It turned out that he did. I learned about the four basic sculpture techniques: carving, casting, modeling, and assembling. That carving was a subtractive process (because of the whole carving-out thing), and that casting, modeling, and assembling were all additive. Then I learned about the classic materials. Bronze, ceramic, marble. Then he started talking about the different periods of sculpture, starting with the Paleolithic era and rolling on to Mesopotamia and Egypt. When he’d rocked back on his heels and started in on the Renaissance, I waited until he took a breath and jumped in.

“That’s just fascinating,” I said, nodding eagerly. “And you know what? I just remembered the name of a sculptor. Have you heard of Vittorio Conti?”

Skyler’s mouth sagged open. “Sure. Everyone in the art world knows how important Conti’s work is.”

Not quite everyone. “Oh? How important is it?”

My instructor sailed into a deeply technical discussion, complete with hand and arm gestures, none of which meant anything to me. When he started to wind down, I jumped into a space and asked, “So does that mean his works are expensive?”

Skyler’s face instantly lost its animation. “Art isn’t about money,” he said shortly. “Popularity is fleeting. Ephemeral. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s the importance of the work that matters. Standing the test of time.” He took a deep breath and sighed it out. “But to answer your question, some of his pieces have sold in the six figures. Not all, but some.”

“Do you have any here?” I asked, looking around. “I’d love to see one.”

Skyler laughed. “You and me both. We had one last summer, but not for long.”

“It sold fast?”

He snapped his fingers. “Like that.”

“If you get another one . . .” I gave him my card. “You never know, a Conti might be just the ticket for a wedding present.” Might, but almost certainly wouldn’t be.

I thanked Skyler for his time and headed out. Yes, I’d learned a lot about sculpture, but was any of that useful in finding Pug’s killer? I had no idea. Not yet, anyway.

*   *   *

Rafe and I had a Saturday lunch at home: grilled cheese sandwiches (made by Rafe) with salad (assembled by Minnie) eaten at the kitchen island while discussing our mornings.

He told me about the progress he’d made on planning our spring and summer landscaping projects, and I told him what I’d learned about the world of sculpture and how it might or might not relate to Pug’s murder.

“Oh, and if anyone asks,” I said, “I briefly considered buying you a Conti sculpture for a wedding present.”

“Did you consider how much you were willing to pay?”

“Still exploring possibilities,” I assured him. “No dollar amounts were mentioned.”

“Good to know. So this Conti was a somebody in the sculpture world?”