“She and a group of friends had tickets for Les Miserables over at the Boston Theater. I actually came to work a little earlier yesterday, so she’d have time to go home and change before the curtain went up. If you’d like, I can go back and get her. She’s just in the office. I’m sure she can confirm—”

“How about I just go back and talk to her?” Tully said, flipping to a new page in his notes. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Absolutely none,” Bennett said, indicating the office's direction. “Please feel free. The office is just down there on the right. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” Tully said, shuffling past.

Bennett turned back to Stan Krankowski. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”

Stan pulled in a deep breath and looked around the gallery. White and black laminate pedestals in varying sizes held sculptures in bronze, stone, and marble, and canvases, large and small, were everywhere. He put his notepad away, stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets as he meandered over to a painting on the wall. “I gotta tell ya. I’ve never been into art.”

“To each his own.”

Stan studied the abstract splashes of color in front of him. “And people like this stuff?”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as they say,” Bennett said, going over to stand next to the man. “I’m not a huge fan of this artist’s work, but there are others who scramble to possess what she paints, and as long as it sells, who am I to judge?”

Stan’s eyes were drawn to the calligraphic title card below the painting. “Wow. That’s pricey.”

“Yes, it is,” Bennett said without looking at the card. She knew the price of everything in the gallery, and the pieces in the front room started at five figures.

“So…um…I guess you make a good living at this?” Stan said, turning to Bennett. “A lot of money in here.”

“At the moment, probably around three million.”

Stan’s eyebrows almost flew off his face. “Three million dollars? You’ve got three million dollars of art in this place?”

“That’s right, give or take a few thousand.”

“And you own it or…or is it on loan like a…like a consignment?”

“No, I own everything outright. If someone wants to sell part of their collection, I purchase it. I don’t act as their broker. I prefer not to answer to other people whenever possible. It makes life so much easier.”

“Guess you’re not married then—huh?”

Bennett’s face split into a smile. “No, I’m not.”