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“You may ask.”
Kit grimaced. She’d expected attitude, but this guy…“The painting is Woman on a Summer Night. Who is the anonymous donor?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
Kit wanted to tell him where to shove his liberty. Connor pointed to himself and she nodded. It wouldn’t do to irritate a source before they got the information.
“Dr. Stevens, this is Detective Robinson. We need to trace this painting’s provenance and, not to sound threatening, we are prepared to get a subpoena for the information. I really don’t think the anonymous donor would like all the dust a subpoena is likely to kick up.”
A long silence. “No, they probably would not. Let me call you back.”
There was a click and then empty air.
“That was fun,” Kit said.
Connor chuckled. “He’ll call back. He’s just giving the donor a heads-up.”
“And if the painting disappears?”
He shrugged. “Screenshot that museum page. Just because the painting is no longer in their possession means nothing. Goddard will want the painting if it’s part of Roxanne’s theft. We want the donor and that won’t change.”
“You’re right.” Kit stood up and stretched her back. Her sleepless night was catching up to her. “I need coffee. You want some?”
Connor made a face. “From that pot in the bullpen? No, thank you. Hurry up, I expect Dr. Museum to call back soon.”
Kit did hurry to the bullpen coffee machine, the movement helping her to wake up. By the time she returned to where Connor waited, she was almost fully awake.
She sat down at the table, making a face identical to the one Connor had made when she took her first sip. “Who made this? It was better when Baz was here. He’d make a fresh pot after lunch every day.”
“I’m not going to do that,” Connor said dryly. “No matter how sad you are that Baz isn’t still here. I’m here now and I’m not making coffee.”
She grinned. “It was worth a try. Did you feel a little sorry for me?”
“Not even a little. Did that ‘poor me’ routine work with Baz?”
“Usually, yes. He—”
Her phone rang and Connor smiled smugly. “Told you he’d call you back.”
She answered and put the call on speaker. “This is Detective McKittrick.”
“This is Dr. Stevens of the Kensington Museum of Art.”
“Dr. Stevens, thank you so much for calling us back.” Kit hoped she sounded humble, but Connor’s rolling eyes told her that she’d laid it on too thick.
Stevens harrumphed. “The donor is Judge Emil Barrington of the lower circuit court. He lives in Denver. He says you may call him at any time. He has proper documentation of the purchase of the painting from a reputable source. His father, Emil Senior, purchased the painting ten years ago. It remained in his private collection until he died last year. We’ve only received the temporary loan this month.”
“I see,” Kit said, because it made sense that it had only been on loan a short time. Otherwise the robbery department of LAPD would have found it long ago. “Can I get the number for Judge Barrington?”
Dr. Stevens recited the number. “Let me know if I can be of further service.”
“We will. Thank you.” She hung up and googled Judge Emil Barrington. “He’s been a judge for twenty years. We’ll need to tread lightly with him.”
“It’s possible that the painting wasn’t part of Roxanne’s thefts.”
“Entirely possible.” She pulled up the police report. “The family of William Freeman reported it missing after his death, ten years ago. Roxanne worked at William Freeman’s retirement home two years before that, for three months. We don’t know if Roxanne took care of him or not. The director at the time retired five years ago and the new director couldn’t find any records in the files.”
“When was the last time the family had visited William Freeman?”
