“Diane, I thought we were beginning to have a good working relationship.”
“Detective Hanks?” she said. “I thought we were too.” So why are you calling me this late? she thought. “What’s up?”
“Why didn’t you call me when Marcella Payden woke up?” he asked.
“I thought you had left word with the hospital to call you. I assumed you were informed.” It’s not my job to inform you, she thought.
Her muscles must have tensed, for Frank increased the pressure on her back, kneading her muscles with his fingers.
“If I had been thinking, I would have called,” she said. “But I’ve had a long day and was tired.” Making efforts to soothe over Hanks’ hurt feelings was a lot easier when Frank was there to rub her back.
“What did she say? The doctor wouldn’t let me in until tomorrow,” Hanks said. “Her daughter told me that Dr. Payden didn’t remember anything about the attack.”
“She was concerned about the pieces of pottery she’d found on her property. As we figured, she recognized they were bone tempered. Marcella was letting me know she had sent samples off for analysis. She also wanted to tell me about the desk. I told her I’d seen the message. Marcella told me to examine the pottery myself, but she didn’t say what I was to be looking for. Her side of the conversation was mostly just one or two words at a time.”
“Do you think this pottery business has anything to do with her attack?” asked Hanks.
“I don’t know,” said Diane. “I wanted to ask her how old she thought the pottery was, but she was very weak and not up to it. Her nurse ran me out.”
“I suppose she has no idea who attacked her, or why?” said Hanks.
“She didn’t even know why she was in the hospital. Tomorrow when you speak with her she may be more clearheaded. But she probably will never remember the events surrounding her attack.”
Hanks seemed mollified when Diane hung up. She was trying to keep a good working relationship with the police and detectives, but sometimes they didn’t make it easy.
She turned over to face Frank. “No more answering the phone.”
“Absolutely not,” he said.
Next morning, Diane met Jonas in his museum office. Together they pulled out the boxes from Marcella’s that Diane had packed. She gently took the ceramic mask out and set it on the desk facedown, cushioning it with batting. She twisted Marcella’s work lamp over the piece of pottery and began examining the back side with a magnifying glass. She saw immediately what had disturbed Marcella. She turned the mask over and looked at the front.
“What?” said Jonas, who had pulled up a chair beside her.
Diane turned the mask over and looked again. “Marcella told me to look at the sherds with it too. We need to pull out the other boxes. Damn.”
Chapter 21
“What are you seeing?” said Jonas, bending over and peering at the mask.
“The inside of the mask has the imprint of eyelashes, eyebrows, blemishes. This was made on a human face,” said Diane.
“That’s not really all that unusual,” said Jonas. “Why is that a big deal?”
Diane turned the face around. “The nose and mouth area is solid, no breathing holes. I know they could have been sculpted shut afterward, but Marcella would have realized that too. There was some other reason she wanted me to look at this. She also said to look at pieces she hadn’t put together yet.”
“Are you saying this might be a death mask?” said Jonas. He put his hands on his hips and looked at her with a great deal of skepticism. “You know, she may have just been worried about preserving her work. Marcella is very dedicated.”
“I know she is, and I’m not saying this is a death mask. I’m just saying Marcella wanted me to take a look,” said Diane. “If she were concerned only that her work was being cared for, she would not have asked me to take a look. I know nothing about pottery. I do know about other things, and I believe that’s why she wanted me to look at it.”
Diane began pulling out all the boxes that held the pieces she assumed belonged with the mask. Jonas helped her clear space in the office to work, piling some of Marcella’s books and papers on the floor beside her desk.
“I called it a mask,” said Diane, “but according to her notes, Marcella thinks the piece might be a stylized pitcher-the liquid would be poured out of the eyes. Not a functional use, I imagine.”
“But interesting symbolism,” commented Jonas. “Especially if…” He let the sentence hang.
Diane carefully lifted out the potsherds still resting on their backing of paper.
“These single pieces were surrounding the face in the sandbox on her worktable. Marcella placed them on this paper and drew an outline around each piece. Presumably they are all part of the same set,” she said, looking at Jonas.
“Okay, let’s see what we have here,” said Jonas. “She’d have sorted and examined all of them first. You may find more information in her computer. She has a pretty sophisticated three-dimensional program she uses to assist in reconstructing pots.”
“Do you know how to use the program?” asked Diane.
“You want me to take a look?” he said.
“Would you?”
“Sure,” he agreed. “I imagine you guys have one similar to it up there.” He looked up with his eyes, indicating the crime lab on the floor above.
“I have one in the osteology lab for skull reconstruction,” Diane said.
As she conversed with Jonas about the merits of computer programs, Diane examined the sherds. A few had imprints reflecting irregularities similar to what might appear on the back of a shaved human head.
In the second sample she unpacked were three pieces that immediately caught her eye-broken fragments, each with a protrusion. She picked them up and examined them and then fit them together. Diane had made many casts of skulls for her forensic cases and she recognized what she was looking at-the cast of a sharp-force-trauma wound.
“Well, damn.This is what Marcella was concerned about.” Diane showed it to Jonas and explained what it was.
He examined the piece under the light and with the microscope, then stood up. “This is terrible, just terrible. Couldn’t it be something else?” he said.
“I don’t know. Maybe,” said Diane. She looked at all the broken pieces laid out on the table. “It looks like the potter sculpted the clay around a head. How did he get it off?”
“Cut it in half,” said Jonas. “Artists sculpting in clay will often create a work, then cut it in half so they can scoop out the center clay. Thick pieces of clay tend to blow up or crack in the kiln, so they scoop out the inside to make it hollow and then they put the pieces back together and sculpt over the seam. This artist could have sculpted the clay around the head to get the form he wanted, then cut the clay into pieces to remove it from the head, and then put the pieces back together to make the piece whole again.”
“I see why this was on her mind,” said Diane, almost to herself. “It may not be involved in what happened to her, but it still needs to be looked into.”
As Diane was leaving the hospital room, Marcella had said the word artist. Diane assumed she meant “Find the artist.” She wondered now if Marcella meant she had already found the artist? Could these pieces be younger than they thought? She would get Hanks to ask Marcella.
“Do you think you could reconstruct the whole pot-pitcher-whatever it is?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said.
“First, let me take some photographs,” said Diane.
She studied the face again. Even up close and even speckled with the bone inclusions, it was a beautiful face. She traced her finger along the curve of the lips and chin. The clay represented the elastic skin of youth, nothing sagging, nothing lined.