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Sam’s smile faded. That was why Kit had been so nervous. “Even more reason for you to be careful. She might have run, but if she didn’t, I’m not letting anything happen to you. See you soon.”
San Diego PD, San Diego, California
Thursday, November 10, 3:30 p.m.
“Oh my God,” Kit breathed, staring at the painting on her computer screen. “I think I found one. Finally.”
She and Connor had spent the early afternoon calling retirement homes, asking about items that had gone missing from patients whom Roxanne had cared for—under all her names. They’d compiled a list of twenty items, including five paintings, four coin collections, two stamp collections, three sculptures, and six rare first-edition books. The items had a total insurance value of over twelve million dollars. And that didn’t include Benny Dreyfus’s coin collection.
They’d begun searching for the items online, to see if anything came up regarding their current location or a past sale. They hadn’t really expected to find anything, thinking that most of the stolen items would be sold in private dark-web auctions, like the one Goddard had discovered was selling Benny’s collection. But the internet was a place to start.
Kit had been about to give up when one of her searches hit pay dirt.
Connor slid his chair from his desk to Kit’s to study the painting on her screen. “Woman on a Summer Night. It’s in a museum? Really?”
“Yep. A small art museum in Denver. The caption on the picture of the painting said it’s on temporary loan from an anonymous donor.”
Woman on a Summer Night was a seventeenth-century painting by an artist of the Dutch Golden Age. Or so the museum’s description said.
Kit split her screen, one side showing a photo of the painting reported missing by the retirement home in LA and the other showing the photo from the museum’s temporary exhibit.
“Denver’s only an hour ahead of us,” Connor said, “so the museum should still be open. Let’s find out who the anonymous donor is.”
Trying not to get her hopes up, Kit dialed the museum’s office, relieved when she got a live human on the line. “Can you connect me with the director’s office, please?” she asked. “My name is Detective McKittrick. I’m calling from the San Diego Police Department.”
“All right,” the woman on the line said warily. “I’ll see if Dr. Stevens is in.”
Kit clicked on About Us and found a photo of Thomas Stevens, PhD. He looked a bit forbidding, in a my-family-came-over-on-the-Mayflower kind of way. “I hope he doesn’t think we’re accusing him of anything. The museum has a stellar reputation and has been around for over fifty years.”
“Then they’ll want to cooperate,” Connor said confidently. “You found the painting, so you should take point, but signal if you want me to jump in.”
Because Connor was better at communicating with the rich, elite types. Like those who managed museums featuring four-hundred-year-old paintings.
She nodded, saying nothing more to him because a male voice came on the line.
“Hello, this is Dr. Stevens. With whom am I speaking?”
“I’m Detective McKittrick, San Diego PD. I’m here with my partner, Detective Robinson. A painting on temporary loan to your museum has come up in one of our investigations and we were hoping to get some information on it.”
“An investigation?” he asked sharply. “What kind of investigation?”
“We’re Homicide, sir,” she said quietly. “This is a murder investigation.”
“I…I see. What do you want to know?”
“We’re tracing collections or items of art that were reported stolen—”
“Our paintings are not stolen,” he interrupted stiffly. “We have documentation. We double and triple check for authenticity and legal ownership. We do our due diligence, Detective.”
“I’m not suggesting that you don’t, sir,” Kit said respectfully. “But a painting matching the one in your exhibit was reported stolen. We’re not investigating the theft. We’re trying to trace the ownership.”
“The owners are respected members of our community.” Stevens’s tone had become downright frosty. “I will not have you maligning their name or legacy.”
“I’m not suggesting they did anything wrong,” Kit said calmly. “If they had, they’d be foolish to loan it to a museum who’d put it on display, wouldn’t they?”
“They would indeed. So what exactly are you suggesting, Detective?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. We’re not even sure that this particular painting connects to our murder investigation. Right now, we’re exploring leads. I’d appreciate it if you could answer just a few questions, sir.”
