Five psychiatrists have pronounced Olive Martin in full possession of her sanity. She is not a psychopath, despite dismembering her mother and sister like parting a chicken for Sunday dinner. Although the police ensured Olive's solicitor was present when she gave her confession, both society and justice were quick to accept Olive's guilty plea. It turns out that no one looks too closely or thinks to hard about a morbidly obese, hideously ugly woman who has professed her own guilt - not even when there are inconsistencies between the confession and the forensics of the scene that should have raised a reasonable doubt.
That's where the novel's protagonist, Rosalind Leigh, comes into the story. Roz has suffered the loss of her daughter, the disintegration of her marriage, and is about to lose her contract as an author if she doesn't write a book about Olive Martin. The Sculptress, by Minette Walters, follows Roz's investigation, a bit of amateur detecting that leaves many a closet bereft of its skeletons. There are enough surprising twists and lurid details to keep the plot engaging. The truth remains veiled, even after the end of the novel, but that is not a flaw so much as a bold statement about the nature of reality as it is experienced by the Walters's characters. Violence, betrayal, death, and greed pull the strings of reality, and often the characters trying to do what is right end up just as twisted up in the tangled webs as those who intentionally did wrong.
The Sculptress is a detective story, but the heart of the book is romance. Not beautiful boy meets beautiful girl romance, but the more realistic heart-breaking, face-bruising, life-ending romances entered into by damaged characters. Walters gives Roz and her new beau a break in the end, letting them have a view of the ocean as they make love, but given the darkness pervading all relationships in the novel, it is questionable that this love, like the others, is any more lasting or less corrosive than the salty spray coming in off of the ocean.
The Sculptress is the first novel I've read by Minette Walters, and I will be reading more. My only regret is that she didn't amplify the hints of supernatural voodoo being played at by Olive. Or maybe not; now that I think about it, the creepy wax dolls stuck with their pins, and Olive's "look of gloating triumph" does more to unsettle me than any more straightforward explanation could have done.