The Sculptor

The spirit for the love it bears the other.

“Here again, as in the original, Dr. Hildebrant told me her admirer addressed her as ‘lord.’ There is also the obvious statement of their spirits loving each other. However, given that context-that is, the context of a love, a desire that is not physical, not sexual-the last three lines seem out of place. They read

What I wish to learn from your beautiful face

Cannot be understood in the minds of men:

He who wishes to learn can only die.”

A heavy silence fell over the tech van.

“May I see that?” asked Burrell finally. Markham handed him the book of poetry. “‘He who wishes to learn can only die,’” the SAC read out loud.

“Yes,” said Markham. “At the very least a strange coincidence-given the recent turn of events, that is.”

“But it doesn’t make any sense,” said Burrell. “ What I wish to learn from your beautiful face cannot be understood in the minds of men. He who wishes to learn can only die?’ Do you really think, Sam, that Dr. Hildebrant’s admirer told her that he was planning to kill someone? That he actually waited five and a half years to carry it out?”

“I don’t know, Bill.”

“And what does Michelangelo mean in his poem when he says what he wants to learn cannot be understood in the minds of men?”

“Michelangelo is saying that people not only misunderstand him,” said Cathy, “but also the kind of love he feels for Cavalieri. He is telling Cavalieri that, although their contemporaries could not comprehend of Michelangelo’s desire for him as anything other than lustful and sinful, in reality it goes far beyond that into the realm of the divine-a love that can only be fully understood when one dies, when one comes to know God.”

“I guess that’s what I don’t understand,” said Markham. “Why those last three lines are so troubling to me-that is, if this poem was meant only as a spiritual overture. Although the foundation of Michelangelo’s love for Cavalieri went much deeper than just the physical, from what you’ve told me, Dr. Hildebrant, there was a sexual, homoerotic component to it as well. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“So the line about the beautiful face,” interrupted Burrell. “Are you saying, Sam, that that line doesn’t make sense in conjunction with the rest of the poem unless Dr. Hildebrant’s admirer is a homosexual? Unless she’s a woman?”

“Perhaps. That is, if Dr. Hildebrant’s admirer did in fact understand the original context of the sonnet, the history behind it. And banking on my experience in such things, I think it’s safe to assume that he or she did.”

“But then that means Dr. Hildebrant’s admirer and Campbell’s killer could not have been the same person. Judging from the size of those footprints in the sand, Campbell ’s killer was well over six feet tall. Any six-foot-five lesbians in your department, Dr. Hildebrant?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“And that sculpture weighed a ton-was almost impossible for one person to handle-and there’s every indication that it was brought to the location intact. You saw for yourself, Sam. It took three of my guys ten minutes to load that thing into the van. That means that the person who carried it all the way from the house next door and up the hill out back is one strong SOB-and we know it was one SOB from the single set of footprints in the sand, a set of footprints that went back and forth only once.”

“Yes.”

“So what’s your opinion now, Sam? You still think the person who sent Dr. Hildebrant those notes is the same person who killed Tommy Campbell? And that this person has to be a homosexual?”

“Perhaps a homosexual,” Cathy interrupted. “But not necessarily a woman.”

“What do you mean?” asked Markham.

“Agent Markham, you said that you thought Michelangelo’s line about coming near to me might not have been meant to be taken literally, right? That maybe my admirer was referring to my work, specifically to my book?”

“Yes.”

“Well, maybe then my admirer was referring not to my face, but to someone else’s.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Burrell, but Cathy saw that Special Agent Markham understood. His eyes at once dropped to the book in his lap, to the copy of Slumbering in the Stone which had been checked out for him at the Westerly Library.

On its cover was the face of Michelangelo’s most famous sculpture.

On its cover was his David.

Chapter 9