Campbell House was only a short drive away. Imogen had set up a meeting with her friend Sarah who was one of the directors and also held a doctorate in art history. They had met at University and now both lived in the United States about ten minutes from each other.
Go figure. The world is a very small place these days.
We had a late morning meeting, so our plan to interviewing potential receptionist candidates was off the table for now. Not that we had anything lined up. Which wasn't a promising sign, as our last interviewee didn't bother showing up at all. Not even a disingenuous email to cancel.
Imogen, Sarah, and I were sitting around a large circular wood table in Sarah's office. As you would imagine, there were paintings hung on the walls as well as a giant bookshelf with, after a quick glance, what were hundreds of art books lining the shelves.
After Imogen and Sarah were done catching up and simultaneously ignoring me, we began our discussion concerning Alese Steiner and Schubert at the Piano.
"Did you meet with her?" Imogen asked.
"I did. I was floored," she said.
"Floored how?" I asked.
"Really, Max, it's a priceless painting," Imogen said.
"No, it wasn't that, Ginny," she said.
It was nice to hear someone else call her Ginny too.
"I mean, yes, it's priceless," she continued, "but it was more like seeing a ghost. I mean, this painting was supposedly destroyed, and here I was standing in this woman's house looking at it. I couldn't believe my eyes."
"I understand," I said. "I felt the same way when we saw it."
"You saw it?" she asked.
"Yes, luv, we saw it at Alese's house."
"Really?" she asked.
"You sound surprised," I said.
"I am, Max. She said that she wanted to keep the painting quiet. Didn't want anyone knowing about it."
"Well, you're talking to us about it," I said.
"This is all off the record, Max. Ginny and I go way back. I can trust her," she said.
"And me?" I asked.
"I'll give Ginny the benefit of the doubt," she answered, chuckling.
"Thanks for that vote of confidence," I said.
The ladies giggled like schoolgirls. It was cute.
"Well, we're helping Miss Steiner out on a case, and she invited us to her house to see the painting," I said.
"So Imogen says. That's why I told her that I'd be happy to chat with you both. Maybe I can help in some way."
"That's exactly what I was thinking," I said.
"It was a beautiful painting," Imogen said. "We saw it at her house. It was hung in the most divine spot. The room was magnificent. Honestly, I couldn't keep my eyes off of it."
It was as if the ladies were dishing. Sarah leaned both elbows on the table and held her jaw.
"I know. I know. I felt the same way," she said.
"So why does she want to sell it?" Imogen asked.
Sarah thought for a moment. Frozen with her elbows still on the table. Then she moved and sat back in her chair.
"I, well, don't really know. All she said was that she felt it was time to sell the painting and asked if I could help and keep this inquiry discreet. She didn't offer any more of an explanation."
"So what did you say?" Imogen asked.
"I told her that of course we could keep this discreet and that we'd have to examine the painting and try to authenticate it before we could bring it to auction. We'd also need legal involved because there was a previous owner that is pretty well documented, although it was in a museum or a home for safekeeping at the time of its supposed destruction. Either way, there are some complex legal hurdles to jump through."
"How did she take that?" I asked.
"I couldn't tell. She didn't really react."
"What did you think when you examined it?" Imogen asked.
"I didn't really examine it. I had a chance to look at it for a bit at the beginning of our meeting. Like you did," she said.
"Bloody hell, Sarah, I'm not an art historian! It looked like a beautiful painting to me."
Sarah laughed.
"Well, it looked, um, right to me too. The brush strokes looked spot on. It has been preserved well, so it didn't show signs of abuse that one would expect from a painting that old that hasn't been cared for as well. It all looked the way it should. But, all that being said, I would want to examine it further. Look closely for some things that can't be seen at a first, second, or third glance. Types of paint and other things, you know."
"Not really," I said. "I don't know."
"I just mean really delving into the painting to make sure that it is what Miss Steiner is claiming it to be. I couldn't in good conscience put this painting up for auction at our house if I wasn't, and my colleagues weren't, 100 percent sure this was Schubert At The Piano painted by Klimt in 1899."
"Of course, of course," I said.
"Yes, Sarah, I completely understand, luv."
"So, what do you think?"
Sarah looked deep in thought.
"I just don't know, Max. It's really one of those things that you just have to examine and see where it leads."
We weren't going to get a straight answer from Sarah concerning her thoughts on the painting's authenticity. I couldn't blame her. I was going to try another line of questions.
"Do you think she'll be back?" I asked.
"Dunno," she said. "Maybe. That is, if she really wants to sell it. People have second thoughts all the time. Selling a painting like that is like losing a friend."
"I can see that," Imogen said.
"Some people just can't do it when push comes to shove."
After gleaning all of the information that Sarah had, Imogen and Sarah talked a bit more about some personal stuff, and then we all thanked each other for taking the time to chat. Sarah and Imogen promised to meet soon for lunch, and Sarah then also promised to keep us in the loop if Miss Steiner returned. I knew we'd already be aware of that fact, if indeed, it did come to fruition. But we thanked her anyway, again, and then exited the building.