“But——”
“I do not wish to discuss it further. You wanted a closer look, which I have given you. And I only wanted your opinion.”
“My opinion is that it could be very valuable, if the artist is who I think it is,” I said, scouring the canvas for a signature. “The style, composition, and this K, lead me to believe——”
“What K?” she snapped, interrupting my dissertation.
“Here, in the lower right corner.” I tried to show her, but she looked away. “It’s how Wassily Kandinsky often signed his work.”
“I don’t know this person,” she said coldly, reaching for the buzzer that unlocks the steel door. Anxious to get rid of me. “And that is not a letter. Only a paint smear.”
“Please, don’t make me leave yet,” I begged. “No one’s waiting. If you don’t know the artist, at least tell me how the pain
