Squirrel Bait and Other Stories
Page 14
* * *
It was raining heavily as Bengal ducked into the Chestershire gallery. He stood at the door and shook off his hat and then his coat. He had carefully dressed in the most inconspicuous clothes he owned and had combed his hair over his forehead in a style quite unlike his normal one. He was relieved to find that he didn’t recognize the owner of the small gallery from any of his shows. The young man, one Henry Williams, seemed pleasant and knowledgeable enough but he obviously didn’t pursue the art dealer’s life in the usual manner. That, Bengal thought, might account for the relative obscurity of his shop. It certainly didn’t reflect badly on his selections, however. He was impressed with the quality of the work. There weren’t a great many pieces, but there were enough to attractively fill the walls.
Henry Williams left him to browse and disappeared into the backroom. Bengal wondered if he, like some dealers, had some sort of a surveillance system so that he could study the reactions of the shoppers without them knowing it. The possibility didn’t bother him though.
He had worked his way around to the back wall when a canvas caught his eye. It was beautifully done in all the right colors - and in his distinctive style. The painting’s theme was one that had never occurred to him but he realized as he stood there that this was exactly the way he would have done it if it had occurred to him. With even the little touches. A little bird in the lower right hand corner and a bee hovering by one of the flowers. Delighted, he looked further, and there was another canvas. And another. Three in all. Each one in his distinctive style. And, he noted on close examination, each signed by him.
He didn’t have time to think about this before the gallery owner was back at his side.
“Have you found something that you like?” he asked. “Bengals. Very attractive. Bright colors and a moving, almost sensuous style. Did you see that there are three?”
“Real Bengals?”
“To the best of my knowledge,” the young man replied frankly. “I purchased them through an intermediary. I don’t know the artist himself. But I have no reason to believe they aren’t the genuine article. They certainly have the style. And the signature. That checks with the published copies that I’ve seen. That’s what I go on.”
“He has a new show in town. Have you seen it?”
“No. I missed out on the opening but I hope to get at least a quick look before it closes.”
“Does this intermediary, whoever he or she is, have access to more of these? Or are there only the three?”
“Offhand I’m not certain. I believe there was something said about the possibility of getting others if that was desired. Because of the small operating budget of my gallery I couldn’t consider more than these at the time. But I can check for you if you’re interested.”
“I just might be,” Bengal said. “I would appreciate your checking it out for me. And you wrapping up these three for me right now. I know what I like.”
After Bengal left with the three painting Williams placed a call to his supplier. “Hi, I’ve just had a great afternoon. Paid the rent and have some left over. I just sold all three of the Bengals that you got me. The purchaser is interested in more if I can get them. So what’s the story on them? Are there more available? He’s going to check back with me early next week.”
Chuck Stone played with a pencil as he spoke. “What was this fellow’s name? Anybody you know or have dealt with before?”
“A new face to me, as a matter of fact. He wasn’t very free with information about himself. He said his name was Zinger. No first name. He paid in cash so there’s no paper trail there. Cash is fine with me of course,” Williams laughed.
“I just wondered because I always try to keep tabs on these things so we don’t overload any one source and attract attention. What was his reaction to the canvases?” Stone asked.
“He seemed genuinely delighted with them.”
“What did he look like? Maybe he’s somebody I would know. Some collector I’ve run into somewhere.”
“He was big. About six three, I would guess. Big head of hair that was all messed up.”
“Glasses?”
“Yeah, but he only put them on while he was looking at the pictures. He took them off and sort of self-consciously hid them every time I went near him,” Williams noted. “Why all the questions? Is something the matter?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Stone replied. “I suspect maybe we have a very interesting situation developing but nothing you have to be concerned about.”
“What about other Bengals?” Williams persisted. “Can you get me more of them?”
“Yes. I don’t think that’ll be any problem, but it’ll be three weeks or more. I think I can get two or three more by then.” Almost as an afterthought Stone asked, “This buyer. Did you notice his hands? Was he missing two digits from his left pinkie finger?”
“Why yes. I noticed that. Do you know him then?” Williams asked.
“Yes, I think I do. It probably was the person I was thinking of. Look, hang loose. I’ll be in touch. Don’t make any hard promises but you can say you expect to have some items of interest in about that time frame.”
* * *
Exactly one month after the opening of the show, Ben Bengal provided Louise Overbach with six new canvases for the private showing. They were all well received and were quickly sold at top prices. All the new owners agreed to allow them to be added to the on-going show for its last two weeks. Items in the newspaper and in various blogs about the additions sparked a new interest in the show and in the artist.