A sound from Face made him look up. Not a word, a kind of groan. Hannibal put her arm down again, drew the sheet back over the body and walked back to Face.

"What happened?"

Face wrapped his arms around himself and stared back at Hannibal.

"I swear to God I didn't kill her."

"Okay." Hannibal touched his shoulder, felt him trembling. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I knew something was wrong as soon as I woke up. She was so cold."

"You woke up and she was dead?" Hannibal resisted the urge to shake him, to try to make him talk faster. Patience. He'd coax the story out of Face a word at a time if he had to.

Face nodded. "Yeah. I tried... tried to wake her, tried... Shook her, but she... Oh God! I don't know what happened!" His voice rose and strayed very close to that hysterical edge again.

Hannibal squeezed Face's shoulder to try to keep him under control, fearing someone outside the room would hear him.

"Face, try and stay calm and tell me everything you can. Start with who she is. Where did you meet her? When?"

Face gulped a couple of times and ran his hands through his hair, starting to calm, though he still trembled under Hannibal's hand.

"I... I met her a couple of days ago, at a trade show. New cars. I was running a scam... doesn't matter." He shook his head. "Her name's Celia. She was one of the promotions girls. I asked her on a date."

"Last night?" Hannibal prompted.

"Yeah. We had dinner. We came back here. And this morning --"

"Last night," Hannibal said, couldn't let him gloss over anything. "Were you drunk?" An upended champagne bottle stood in an ice bucket on a table. "Or did you take anything?"

"Take?" Face sounded baffled for a moment until he understood the question. "Drugs? Hannibal, I don't, you know that!"

"Okay. How much did you have to drink?" Enough to make him do this and forget it? Hannibal wondered, though doubted it. Face had always been a lightweight when it came to alcohol. A couple of strong ones had him under the table and certainly not up to overpowering a healthy young woman. Unless she was drunk too.

"I wasn't drunk." Face insisted. "And I didn't take any drugs! Hannibal, please!" He grabbed at Hannibal's arm, gripped the fabric of the sleeve tight. "Believe me, I didn't do it!"

Hannibal had to ignore the pleading look in Face's eyes, still needed to get the full story, check every angle. Part of him insisted that she could have died from natural causes, during the night. Her heart, or a brain haemorrhage or a stroke, something sudden like that.

Yeah, and pigs might fly. Hannibal had seen plenty of bodies and not all of them on battlefields. The girl had been strangled.

"Did you do anything out of the ordinary in bed? Did she have you put anything around her neck?" Some people had odd tastes, Hannibal knew. Accidents happened.

"What? No! Of course not!" Face pulled away from Hannibal, though stayed close to the wall, as far away from the bed as he could. "I don't know what happened. I'm going crazy trying to understand. How can this happen?"

Hannibal wished he knew. Well he couldn't figure it out now, not here. Right now he had to get Face the hell out of here, get hold of BA. Regroup and figure this out.

"Get dressed, Face. We need to leave."

"Leave, but..." Face looked over at the bed. "Celia... We can't just..."

Hannibal grimaced. He didn't like it. Walking away and leaving the dead woman there. But if Face stuck around, he'd be in a cell in very short order. And even if by some miracle they cleared him of this, then Decker would be waiting to take him off the LAPD's hands.

"I'm sorry, Face, but we have to go. Get dressed. Make sure you have all of your stuff. Try to get yourself looking - um - normal." Taking Face out of the hotel looking as crazed as he looked right now would attract stares.

Face nodded and, as Hannibal watched, he gathered up the rest of his clothes, from a chair and took them into the bathroom, closed the door.

Hannibal didn't twiddle his thumbs while he waited. He put on his gloves and picked up the champagne glasses, slipped them into his pockets. Then he took a handkerchief from another pocket, picked up the champagne bottle, and wiped it thoroughly. After that, he started to work his way around the room, rubbing the handkerchief over all the polished surfaces.

Face emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, putting on his jacket, his face washed, and his hair neat.

"Did you call me from this?" Hannibal asked, wiping the telephone.

"Yes, I... Oh god, I shouldn't have done that! They'll trace it. They'll find your apartment. Hannibal I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking straight."

"That's okay, Face." Maybe he'd have time to go back and collect his stuff before he had to abandon the apartment. Usually he didn't have that luxury. "Don't touch anything else now. Just give me a minute and we'll get out." He went on polishing. After a moment Face spoke.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting rid of your prints." Hannibal turned to him. "Did you use a condom?"

"What?" Face blushed and looked away. "Hannibal, please --"

"This is no time to get coy, Lieutenant." Hannibal's patience started to wear thin now. He just wanted to get the hell out of this room. "Where is it?"

Face glared back at him. "Bathroom, trash can."

Hannibal walked in there to find the small trash can sitting under the sink. It had a plastic liner, so Hannibal just lifted that out, and tied it closed. He picked up a small hand towel and started wiping all the bathroom surfaces. As he worked, he saw Face in the bathroom mirror, standing in the doorway.

"Hannibal, stop that."

Hannibal turned around. Face looked calmer now, rational, his expression determined.

"Face, your prints are all over this room. I'm just trying to buy us some time..." He knew he'd never manage to eliminate every fingerprint. The police would identify Face sooner or later. But later suited Hannibal just fine. "I assume you paid cash for the room?"

"Do you think I killed her?"

Hannibal straightened up, frowning at Face. Did he think that? Of course, he knew Face could kill. But the enemy. Men trying to kill him back. Not a defenceless woman. He wouldn't do that, would he? Not deliberately. Right now, Hannibal didn't know what had happened, and it was no use speculating about it until he had more facts. Nevertheless, it would take a lot to convince him of Face's guilt.

When he saw Face's gaze turn to the floor, Hannibal realised he had taken too long to reply and grimaced at the idea that he'd made Face believe Hannibal doubted his word.

"No," Hannibal said, his voice insistent. "Of course I don't think you killed her."

"Then someone else must have been in here," Face said. "Someone else killed her..." His voice caught for a moment, and Hannibal knew the words he didn't say were, 'killed her while I lay sleeping beside her.' However, Face went on, voice stronger. "And if someone else was in here, then you're destroying evidence."

Hannibal looked down at the towel in his hands. Looked at his own hands.

"They probably wore gloves."

"We don't know that for sure."

"Face, once the cops figure out you were here, they'll assume you did it. They won't even look for anyone else. We have to do that ourselves."

"Got access to a forensics lab have we?"

Hannibal scowled but knew Face was right. And Hannibal just didn't have the time to eliminate all the evidence anyway. They had to get out of here. And he had something else he needed to do, before too much time passed. Face still trembled, Hannibal could see, and he had a suspicion that something besides shock was causing those tremors.

"Okay, Face. If that's what you want." Hannibal dropped the towel and walked out of the bathroom. "You're certain you've got everything?"

Face rummaged in his jacket pockets, checking, and then nodded.

"Let's go." Hannibal strode to the door, but Face didn't follow at once. Instead, he moved slowly to the bed. As Hannibal watched, Face rested his hand on the sheet covering the body, just for a moment, then took it away again. In a soft voice, little more than a whisper, he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Celia. I'm so sorry."