Page 73 of Death at Inishmore Castle

“But he would have to show provenance,” Kieran said.

“True, but I think things are more fluid on the black market.”

“So the scheme is to dupe the O’Sullivans into thinking their collection is worth nothing. Meanwhile, he would be selling things on the black market.”

“Yes. And the priest and nun, who weren’t either of those things, found out about it. Maybe they wanted a piece of the action and he bumped them off. Or we have a fourth suspect somewhere.”

“You may be on to something there. But wouldn’t they know from the records that their items were real?”

It was a good question. “Not if some expert hired by Maximillian came in and told them otherwise.”

“If you’re right, they may be sitting on a gold mine.”

“Exactly.”

“I can’t even comprehend that kind of wealth. That’s more your league,” he said.

I laughed hard. “Kieran, I may move in certain circles, but I’m not friends with people like that. I know some, yes. But my friends are down to earth, and most of them are writers. They are usually the only people who understand how my mind works.”

“And how is that?”

“You’ve met me. I am extremely nosy, and I talk to myself.”

“Two things we have in common,” he said.

“The nosy thing is your job,” I said. “But I had no idea you talked to yourself.” I didn’t think I’d ever seen him do that.

“Usually, I’m at home or in my office. Sheila’s caught me a few times. It’s how I work things out.”

“Same, but with me there are a bunch of characters that I’m having conversations with too.”

He laughed. “Well, I’m grateful I don’t have that. I don’t know how you do it.”

“There are lots of memes about how some people get a straitjacket, others are called writers.”

We both chuckled.

“This is going to take forever,” I said as I peeked under another covered painting to see if it was the Caravaggio. At the same time, I kept a running tab of the artists I’d seen so far, including a Turner. While I was no art expert, I’d studied the subject extensively. The brush strokes on the Turner were distinctive. These paintings absolutely looked real. At the very least, they needed a second and third opinion.

“Let me see that sheet, please,” I said.

He handed it to me. The light wasn’t great down here, so I used the app on my phone.

“I wonder who put this list together and the last time they had appraisals done. These are not correct.”

“What do you mean?”

“These are undervalued by millions.”

He’d been looking under one of the sheets hanging over another painting.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, like I said, I’m no expert, but I had to do research when I had an art thief in one of my books. If these paintings are real, and I have no reason to think they aren’t, we’re talking about the appraisals being off by millions.

“You said that Nora put this report together.”

“She printed it off.” He flipped through it. “But it was provided by the accountant.”