Charlie followed the deep red brushstroke and saw a small curve and then another. Sydney Donovan incorporated her signature into her art. Was it hidden for a reason?

“It’s quite brilliant, if you ask me. Most want their names recognized, but not Sydney.”

“Sydney’s parents didn’t know about her painting. According to her school, she’s never taken an art class. Do you know why she would have kept her talent a secret?”

“I didn’t know Sydney very well. Perhaps she was afraid.”

“Of what?” Frost spoke up.

Ms. Benedict frowned. “I don’t know. Most artists are introverts. Displaying their work takes courage. Maybe she couldn’t handle criticism, so she kept her work hidden.”

“And yet you found it.” Charlie didn’t like the feeling growing in his gut. Ms. Benedict was being helpful without helping. “How did you come to acquire her art?”

“I don’t recall how I came to acquire Sydney’s art. I must’ve seen something in it that I liked. Still do.” Ms. Benedict ran her hand along the edge of the painted canvas. “It’s a shame this is all I have left.”

“But you don’t know where you met her?”

“Deputy, I own an art gallery, a reputable one. I get hundreds of inquiries a week from starving artists wanting a chance to display their work. I might have met her once or twice. But clearly those moments don’t stand out.”

“If you don’t deal directly with the artist when bringing in new pieces, who does?”

“It depends. I do try to handle all inquiries, but I’m busy. Often I’ll agree to bring in a piece and allow it to be displayed to see what kind of response I get.”

“How much does a piece like this sell for?” Frost tapped Sydney’s painting.

“Why? Are you interested?” A thin smile spread across Ms. Benedict’s face. “The asking price for this piece is twelve hundred dollars.”

Frost snorted. “You’re serious?”

Charlie cast a look at Frost that silenced his snickering.

Ms. Benedict’s eyes narrowed. “Very.”

“Is that customary for a piece like this?” Charlie asked.

“No. Sydney’s work was the exception.”

The painting was nice but $1,200? Art was definitely in the eye of the beholder and in the hands of someone with a lot of money to spare.

“How many pieces of her art have you—”

“Excuse me.” Ms. Benedict moved past them as the bell above the door jingled.

A well-dressed man entered and Ms. Benedict greeted him with a kiss on both cheeks. She spoke to him a few seconds before pointing toward a small hallway at the back of the gallery. The man held Charlie’s gaze as he walked by, leaving a familiar scent behind.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I have an appointment I must keep.” Ms. Benedict raised her hand toward the door.