CHAPTER NINETEEN
After talking to Amelin, I sat in my car and reviewed my jottings. I combined what I had learned from him with what I’d learned before our meeting. None of it gave me any comfort.
The scenario Blaine had presented—one in which Kandinsky might have skimmed a portion of the partnership’s profits—was metastasizing into something much worse—a phony artifacts smuggling ring. But I couldn’t know for sure without poking my nose where it might get cut off.
If Kandinsky had been part of a smuggling ring and the artifacts were fakes, that could explain why he was murdered. Or he might have been killed by a jealous competitor. Maybe Kandinsky’s death had nothing to do with either of those things.
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