Page 60 of The Dollmaker

“Do you have Nathan Richardson’s contact information?” Sharp asked.

“I have a phone number,” Mr.Emery said. “You might have trouble reaching him. He’s in the navy, and his ship is out to sea for a couple more months.”

Emery found the number and gave it to Sharp. It would be easy enough to verify the ex-husband’s alibi if he was stationed on a ship.

“Diane’s husband divorces her, she rebounds with a painter, who she leaves. Do you know why?” Vargas asked.

“Stanford’s a lovely man but does not have a strong work ethic,” Mrs.Emery said. “He’s the kind of man a woman dates until someone better comes along.”

“His name is Stanford Madison?” Sharp asked.

“Yes. He teaches classes in the city and is prepping for an exhibit on Hanover Avenue,” Mr.Emery added. “I have a few of his paintings in the study if you’d like to see them.”

Whoever had done the work on Diane’s face had been a skilled artist. “I’d love to see them.”

“Do you think he did it?” Mr.Emery demanded.

“I don’t know who’s responsible yet,” Sharp offered. “We’re still piecing together the evidence. Did Diane meet Stanford in college?”

“They did know each other then. How did you know?”

“Came up in another interview.”

Mrs.Emery led them into a study where three small oil paintings hung. There were paintings of Diane done in such vivid detail, Sharp found himself leaning in to capture all the nuances.

“He gave those to us last Christmas,” Mrs.Emery said. “We were thrilled, of course. They’re so beautiful.” A phone rang, and Mrs.Emery turned to check the display. “That’s my sister. I need to take this—please excuse me.”

“Of course,” Vargas said.

When his wife left the room, Richardson kept his gaze on the pictures. “I asked to see my daughter, but so far the medical examiner isn’t granting us access.”

“There are certain details the police are trying to keep under wraps right now,” Sharp said.

“I’m not asking for sensitive case information. I just want to see Diane. To know that this is all real and not some kind of mistake.”

Sharp pulled in a breath, knowing difficult details were best told directly. “Did Diane ever talk to you about tattooing?”

“I know she has two. She told her mother, who then told me. I wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but she’s a grown woman.”

“Did she express interest in having work done on her face?” Vargas asked.

The question sparked surprise, which gave way to anguish. “No! Why would she cover her face? She’s beautiful.”

“What happened to her face?” Mrs.Emery asked from the doorway.

Sharp waited until she reached her husband’s side. “It was tattooed. The ink was designed to look like a doll’s face.”

Mrs.Emery raised a trembling manicured hand to her lips. “I can’t believe this.”

“We’re trying to find out if the tattooing might have been a choice she made,” Vargas said. “We found antidepressant prescriptions in her apartment.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to suggest,” Mrs.Emery said.

“We’re just trying to fill in the gaps of the last three weeks so we can bring you closure,” Vargas offered.

“She didn’t disfigure herself,” Mrs.Emery said. “She was a smart, bright young woman who was mentally balanced.”

“How do you know she would not have tattooed her face?” Sharp asked gently.

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