“The full family agreed it was past time and my sister said she’d take on the project. Perhaps she did and the Conti is safe.”

I was beginning to get a bad feeling about the story. “Did something . . . happen to your sister?”

Mr. Valera looked off into the distance. “She had a stroke in late October. She survived, but her recovery has been slow. Communication is still very difficult.” He smiled wryly. “If she’d sent the Conti away, and if she had the record-keeping skills an earthworm might conceivably have, we’d have a paper trail. However, she inherited our father’s capacity for paperwork and there are no records anywhere.”

Ah, siblings. Nothing like them for heaping abuse. “So the sculpture might be sitting safe somewhere, waiting for pickup,” I said. “Or it might have been . . . stolen?”

“We’re waiting until my sister can let us know, one way or another, if she sent it out,” Mr. Valera said. “There’s no sense in having law enforcement officers spend time on a theft that might not have occurred.”

This made sense. But if the Conti had been stolen, letting the trail go frozen cold was the worst thing possible. Of course, Mr. Valera knew that. In this age of criminal investigation television shows, pretty much everyone did, let alone an experienced circuit court judge. And maybe that explained his brief hesitancy. The management of the cottage and its contents were clearly controlled by numerous people with associated numerous opinions, and perhaps he was in the minority. That he could be bowing to the majority rule, even when he likely felt it was completely wrong, made me like him even more.

“I hope she gets better soon,” I said. “Do you get to see her often?”

“Now that I’m north, yes. She’s at Lake View Medical Care Facility.”

I perked up a bit. “They do great work. Their long-term rehabilitation care for stroke patients is fantastic.”

Mr. Valera zipped his coat. “That sounds like the voice of experience.”

It was indeed. “A few years ago a good friend of mine had a stroke when he was only fifty-six. He did his long-term rehabilitation at Lake View and credits them with his full recovery.”

“That is a fine testimonial.” Mr. Valera nodded. “I’ll share it with the family. We are looking forward to her improvement. We get reports of her restlessness and it’s possible it’s linked to the Conti. Either she wants to tell us where it is, or she’s trying to tell us it’s stolen and—”

He suddenly sagged, his right knee going out from under him. But before I could jump to help him, he’d recovered. And looked down. “My word, Mr. Eddie. That was quite a head bump. You caught me completely unprepared.”

“Eddie,” I scolded. “Leave Mr. Valera alone!”