8
Josie
I knock on Professor Zimmer's door.
"If you're a student," she calls through the closed door, "my office is closed for the day."
I twist the doorknob. It's unlocked, and I push the door open a few inches. "It's Dr. Mueller. I talked with you on the phone yesterday about some art pieces."
She waves me in. "Come in, Dr. Mueller. Come in!" Her black curly hair is pulled back into a chaotic bun. She stands up and offers me a hand. "I'm sorry to hear about your grandfather."
"I didn't even know he was alive until his lawyers sent me the paperwork regarding his estate." I sit down across from her. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I know you're a busy woman."
When I called the Delmont Auction House about getting some of Opa's collectibles appraised, I was surprised when they recommended an art specialist named Mary Zimmer. The same Mary Zimmer who teaches at Delmont University with me, just on the other side of campus.
Our specialties never overlap—neurology and art history are miles apart—both literally and figuratively—but she has a reputation among the wealthy for finding hidden treasures and for getting top dollar for them.
"You said you brought some photos of the items in question?" she asks, getting down to business.
I have a lot of pictures. A few hundred of them. Renna and Mel suggested taking pictures of everything of potential value.
"There are more than three dozen paintings of various sizes throughout the place."
"You have the legal right to sell these pieces?"
"There's a judgment against the property, but I have legal rights to everything as long as I pay that on time. That's about nine months from now. My lawyer told me I have rights up until that point, as long as it's my intention to claim my inheritance."
"Other people listed in the will can contest all of that," she points out.
I shake my head. "I'm the only person named in the will."
"How much do you need to come up with in nine months?" she asks curiously.
"A quarter of a million."
She whistles, shaking her head.
"Okay," she says. "Show me what you've got."
I pull up the pictures on my phone and cast them to her screen with the school's networking software.
She looks at the folder labeled Opa and glances at me. "There are four hundred and fifty-three pictures here."
"Some are paintings and artwork. There are some sculptures, coins, gems, and a number of books that might be valuable. I took pictures of everything I thought might be valuable. It's easier than having people ask questions and having to go back to take new photos."
"Fair point." She clicks through the first photos.
"I tried to keep things in order. Paintings together, sculptures, gems, coins. I went from room to room, so you'll find four or five groups of paintings."
She flips through the first fifty or so photos quickly.
"I don't know as much about the sculptures, but I can recommend someone at the auction house for you. Same with the coins." She stops on a bronze coin that looks ancient to my untrained eyes. "I collect coins, but I'm not an expert. Do you mind if I send this photo to my numismatist?"
"Please. You think it's valuable?"
She lifts a shoulder. "I couldn't say, to be honest. It's different from anything I've seen before. I should probably send you to him for all the coinage. I'll write down some contact info when we're done."
She continues flipping through the photos, occasionally pausing to take notes or send one off to a colleague.
She lingers for a long time on a painting in Opa's upstairs personal library—somewhere only a few privileged friends would have been allowed.
"Well, fuck me," she says under her breath.
"What?" I ask, leaning forward.
"What do you know about your grandfather's collection? Are most of the pieces authentic?"
I frown. "I'd assume so. From the little I know of him, he prided himself on investing in the future and having valuable things."
I exhale slowly. "That's my impression of him, anyway. I didn't know him. I didn't even know he was living in Delmont until he died earlier this month. His estate lawyer—the one I've been working with—seems to have a high opinion of him."
"Dr. Mueller—"
"Josie, please," I insist.
"Josie." She fidgets in her seat. "That lawyer gets paid based on how much your grandfather's estate is worth. I would recommend getting a second opinion."
"I have no idea what his estate is worth, and I'm not particularly opposed to her getting a chunk of it through legal fees."
That might be naive, but none of this was mine a month ago, and while the idea of having millions of dollars in the bank has its appeal—it's not real. At least not yet.
"I understand that." She sighs softly. "But if there's half the value I think there is in that penthouse of yours, you need to pick your friends carefully. I'm going to give you the name of one of the best lawyers at the auction house. They deal with situations like this all the time—high-value estates inherited by people with no real concept of what they've just received."
"She said that in addition to the penthouse and its contents, his assets are worth about a quarter billion."
She raises an eyebrow. "I've looked at a quarter of your photos, Josie. I haven't even seen the paintings—that's where my expertise is. I wouldn't be surprised if the valuables inside the property itself are worth at least four times that."
"You're talking about a billion dollars." I shake my head.
I can't even fathom that kind of money.
"If the pieces are authentic, then potentially, yes." She continues flipping through the photos while she talks. "You can't even conceive of money like that." She glances up. "Did your lawyer give you any information on the insurance coverage your grandfather had?"
"I don't think so. I'll need to look through the paperwork more carefully."
"If I were you, I'd let your grandfather's estate lawyer help with the big picture, but I'd use the auction house lawyers for the valuables. You don't have to sell them, but you should know what you have."
"Okay." That makes sense. "I imagine he had paperwork somewhere that inventories most of it. Any suggestions on where to look for that?"
She bites her lip thoughtfully. "People with collections like this usually have appraisals and inventory lists in multiple places. At least one or two at home. Any insurance policies would have copies of official appraisals. I'd bet money there's a list in a safe deposit box as well. You might even find other valuables there."
She pauses. "Virtually everyone keeps records online now. How old was your grandfather?"
"One hundred and one. I don't think he had any presence online. From what I can tell, he didn't even own a computer."
She stops on another photo—a large painting.
"If this is authentic, you could live off the proceeds of its sale for the rest of your life." She keeps flipping, murmuring occasionally. "I can't speak for the other departments of the auction house, but we would definitely be interested in the paint—"
She breaks off mid-sentence, flipping back to the previous painting.
"This…"
She scratches her head.
It's a simple landscape—rolling hills, lines of cypress trees, and olive groves. The winding footpath through the hills disappears into the grove. There's a unique turn in it—almost like the artist changed their mind mid-brushstroke.
I almost didn't bother photographing it when I was going through the penthouse. It looks amateur. But I snapped a picture instead of thinking about it and moved on.
She frowns.
"I think I've seen something like this before. I don't recognize the artist or the style, but something about it feels familiar. I want to show this to the rest of my team. Someone will be able to place it."
"I can upload all of these to a shared folder if that makes it easier for your team. You think a lot of this stuff has value, then."
"Definitely." She nods. "Assuming it's authentic, we should have no problem finding enough for you to pay off that judgment on the penthouse."