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“But wait — if it’s a prank, doesn’t that contradict your autopsy-illustration theory?”
“I’m not head over heels in love with that theory I offered it as an olive branch to the Shroudies And they clubbed me over the head with it”
“So if Giotto wasn’t copying an earlier Shroud — if he did it as a prank, or a fake, or whatever — then it’s not a likeness of Jesus, or of anybody, for that ht? He wouldn’t have needed a hu for two reasons: I needed to lay non hypothesis to rest once and for all, and I was still intrigued by Miranda’s snuff-film theory — a theory that resembled Emily’s autopsy-photo idea, but with a sinister twist
“Occam’s razor, Dr B Giotto was an artist Artists use models Of course there was a model”
“But the guy in the painting—”
“It’s not a painting,” she interrupted “It’s an illustration”
“Okay, okay, the guy in the illustration: Would his dimensions, his stature, match the stature of the model?”
“Absolutely, if the artist was doing a life-size illustration,” she said “A good artist can draw exactly to scale When I was a medical illustrator, I did it all the time”
Exactly to scale: The words sliced throughthe hypothesis like ancient, fragile linen
An hour later, I was sprinting up the staircase of the Hotel Diplo on Miranda’s door “Miranda, Miranda, wake up!” I dru she hadn’t sallied forth in search of coffee and breakfast
“Jeez, what the hell? Just a second” A moment later the door was opened by a bleary-eyed Miranda, wearing only a long T-shirt “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said She glared, plucking twists of toilet paper froht for sure you’d be up already”
“Man, I’d just gotten to sleep,” she gruot a roo Away fro” She pressed her palainst her eyes “So, what’s up — besides you, early bird?”
“This,” I said, stepping aside to show her the Shroud, which I’d unrolled in the hallway again
“I’e when they run the vacuum cleaner over that,” she said, but I could see her curiosity awakening
“I just talked to E”
“Emily? In Kentucky?” I nodded “Just now?”
“Maybe an hour ago”
“Betcha woke her up, too, didn’t you?”
“Well, yeah I did wake her up But that’s not the point”
“Might’ve been the point to Emily Are you about to tell me what you think the point is?”
“I a how the Shroud could’ve been , or a brass rubbing” Miranda nodded, rubbing sleep from her eyes “She thinks the Shroud was made by a medieval artist named Giotto Giotto was—”
She fluttered a hand in the air “Yeah, yeah, Giotto and I go way back I minored in art history” She pondered “Okay, stylistically, Giotto seems plausible”
“But Giotto’s not the point, either,” I said
She sighed “Anybody ever et to the point?”
“I’ on about how a good artist can draw to scale Exactly to scale Which is just rubbing uy Can’t be”
“Because our Avignon guy’s six inches too short”
“Right The Shroud guy is ten percent taller But then, after I hung up, I thought, hmm”
“Don’t tell uess The hmm—that’s the point”
“Exactly the point, Miss Sht, If he can draw exactly to scale, er than life? So I found a copy shop Hey, you know the Italian word for ‘photocopy’?” She shook her head wearily “Fotocopia Isn’t that great? Anyhow, I found a fotocopia shop Look”