Page 23 of Caper Crush
“I did.” An oil paint smell wafts over as a breeze blows through our open window. The paint is still drying on yesterday’s painting attempt.
“So you know about tracing provenance?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“And faking provenance?”
His stare is unwavering. A chill ices through me. But I hold his gaze. Tessa shifts forward in her seat.
Think.
“Cases that involve fake provenance usually involve newly discovered older paintings that don’t have any provenance. Like an undiscovered Rembrandt or something,” I say. “This Kimimoto has a well-established chain of owners. And there’s only one. That’s well known. So whoever stole it would have a hard time saying it’s some undiscovered Kimimoto. Any reputable art house would presume it’s the stolen one.”
He nods slowly. “Exactly, so it’s a weird painting to steal. Both of them.”
I let out a breath. I seem to be in the clear. “Unless the thief didn’t know that it would be hard to sell?”
He whistles through his teeth. “It makes me think it was personal. Someone dislikes you or someone dislikes Tony and Takashi.” He hands me the list of attendees of the party. “Who doesn’t like you?”
“I don’t think anyone dislikes me,” I say. “Not enough to steal my painting.”
“Who are you close to from the party attendees?”
“My uncles and Rex.” I take a sip of my water.
“Not your sister?” he asks.
“Stepsister. My mom married her dad when we were both ten. I’m not particularly close to my stepsister anymore. We’re very different. You know, I’m the artist, she’s the lawyer.”
“Except that my predecessor spoke very highly of your investigative skills during the Christie’s case. He vouched for you, but obviously, I still had to question you impartially.”
“Officer Samuelstein. How’s he doing? That was a fun case. I mean, not for the auction house, but it was fun to work with Officer Samuelstein.”
“He’s good. Enjoying the retired life. But he likes to check in with me every once in a while and give his input.”
“I bet.” I smile fondly. Officer Samuelstein came across as this no-nonsense, gruff New York cop, but he had a total soft side underneath. “I hope he’s still painting.”
“He is,” Officer Johnson says. “He was sorry to hear about the theft.”
“The irony is not lost on me. Please tell him that I said hi.” I study again the list of suspects.
“Why’d you stop working for Christie’s?”
“I wanted to concentrate on my art, and that was a full-time job,” I say. “Being a part-time waitress and bartender is more flexible. And it’s good for me to get out of my studio and interact with people.”
Officer Johnson nods.
“I should warn you,” I say, “that I’m going to do some investigating on my own.”
He smiles. “Are you?”
“Yes. I talked to Kimberly, the owner of the catering company.”
He frowns. “And what do you think?”
“I don’t think she did it. Even though I hoped it was her, so it was not personal.”
“But now she already knows?”
