Page 80 of Burning Caine
“Hmm…” Rhonda kept her eyes on the monitor. “June 13 through December 18 of last year. It was quite the coup. Most of our work is local; we rarely get something so high profile.” She tilted her head down to look at us over the top rim of her glasses. “We had a tremendous uptick in foot traffic and purchases when it was here. Even had a few offers to buy it.”
“Really?”
“All from the same gentleman. He was insistent he had to have it.” She looked at me briefly before turning back to the computer, tilting her head again to read the screen. “Five offers, actually. Sotheby’s valued it at one million. He offered them a hundred thousand more, but the owner refused to sell.”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “Big offer! Why would they turn that down?”
Papa had said Bobby Scott was greedy and wanted more.
“Said it wasn’t about the money, it was about their pride in proving the attribution. I suggested they sell it. Substantial return on their investment.”
“Could you tell us a bit about your security system here?” Samantha asked.
Rhonda turned back to her, narrowing her eyes. “Why?”
“We carry the insurance on that painting and several others in your gallery. We need to be sure you’re protecting our investments.”
Rhonda pursed her lips, unconvinced, but turned her monitor to face us when she pulled up the display from her security cameras. “We have multiple cameras, including each gallery room, in the storage room in the back, in my office, and at each door.” I leaned in to get a clearer look as she clicked through the images, showing us no part of the gallery went unrecorded.
“Ever had a break-in?”
“Two, yes.” She turned the monitor away from us again.
“When were they?”
“If I understand you, you only want to know if either break-in was whenLes amoureuxwas in the gallery?” Rhonda looked at Samantha over her glasses again and received a nod in return.
She returned to her computer. “Hmm…No, one was before, and one was after.”
“Can you tell us who put in the offers on the painting?” asked Lucy.
I gripped the back of Samantha’s chair, staring at Rhonda. She couldn’t answer that question. If she did, it would be the last time my family spent any money here.
Rhonda directed a cool glare at Lucy. “You’re new to this, young lady, aren’t you?”
Lucy nodded, shaken.
I chimed in, speaking slowly to keep my voice level. I directed it all to the gallery owner. “Private sales are treated with the utmost discretion. It’s a well-understood rule within the art world, particularly as the prices grow. Buyers will use brokers or intermediaries to make offers, often specifically to remain anonymous.”
“Why?”
Before I could continue, Samantha took over, with her own slant. “Because more than half of all stolen artwork is taken from private homes or organizations. If no one knows you have a multi-million-dollar collection, no one will try to steal it. Someone offering that much for a painting is in that group.”
Before Saturday, her words would have surprised me. But, given our little investigation, it merely heightened my need to discover her true self.
Rhonda grinned at Samantha. “You’re not new to this business.”
“Not really.” Her tone was light, but it masked so much more.
Past my greatest worry for the meeting, my grip on her chair weakened, and I placed a proud hand on her shoulder. “Samantha spotted the stolen artwork at the charity auction.”
“Stolen what?” asked Lucy.
“It was a favor.” Rhonda pressed her lips together. “My curator said it had come through another restoration company—”
Samantha leaned forward, out of my grip. “Parker’s?”
“Yes, exactly.”