“Not seriously.” Decker took out a notebook. “So if it’s not you and it’s not her, give me some direction with the list.” He handed it to Maxwell who studied it for a few minutes.

The dealer finally said, “I’m really sorry, Detective. Nothing is jumping out at me.”

“No ne’er-do-well with an addiction problem?”

“Oh, I see where you’re coming from.” He pointed to a name. “Rubin and Anne Sobel. Rubin is a first or second cousin to Ken. Both of their kids have had some substance abuse problems as teens. Campbell is doing all right from what I last heard.”

“Is that a boy or girl?”

“She’s twenty. I think she’s at Hampshire. Her older brother, Livingston, has been in and out of rehab. I don’t know if he even lives in the New York area anymore. But just because he’s had problems doesn’t make him a thief.”

“Of course not. Did he go to college?”

“Dropped out after a year.”

“Where’d he go?”

“Uh . . . Brown, I believe.”

“So inherently, he’s a smart guy.”

“Yeah, he is smart. I see him more of an Occupy Wall Street guy than a thief. Honestly, Detective, it would surprise me if it were someone in the family.”

“Well, I don’t think I’m working with amateurs,” Decker said. “If it were amateurs, they’d steal all four panels at once. And they certainly wouldn’t bother making replicas. But if it were a truly professional job, it wouldn’t have been done piecemeal like it was. So I’m looking for something in between, which makes it hard for me to get a handle on what is truly going on.”

“Any ideas?” Max asked.

“I was going to ask you the same thing. Put yourself in my shoes. Where should I be concentrating my efforts?”

Max was silent. Then he finally said, “Well . . . the thief was definitely trying to hide the crime with those poor replicas. He or she didn’t want anyone to notice.”

“Okay. That’s a lot of work to go into hiding a theft. Why would someone do that? What outcome would be worth that much effort?”

“For one thing, it would buy time for the thief to sell the panels to the highest bidder,” Max said. “Also if the theft wasn’t reported, an auction house could conceivably buy them, which would give the thief more options.”

Decker started to scribble in his notepad. “That makes sense. So who would you be looking for if you were me?”

“Usually dealers who dabble in stolen art don’t sully their hands directly. I’d say the dealer definitely hired out.”

“So you think it’s a dealer?”

“Possibly.”

“Is there anyone in the family who’s an art dealer?”

“Besides me?” When Decker smiled, Max said, “Do I like where this is going?”