The tiny bell jingled as the door opened and closed. How elegant. How perfect. The customer smiled at the sound. Wood and brass statues cluttered the tabletops throughout the storefront, framed works of art and ornately detailed clocks covering all available wall space. He let his eyes roam the space, taking in the gleam of brass, the sheen of the wood. The musty smell, unfortunately, reminded him too much of old shoes, and he tried not to breathe too deeply.
His steps followed his eyes and he made a complete circuit of the small storefront before pausing in front of a statue. Its pale wood had been carved into a grotesque figure. A woman, he supposed, but like no woman you would meet on the street. Exaggerated breasts and bottom were highlighted further with added brass elements that wrapped around the form like a serpent.
His smile died as he spied the clerk hovering behind a high counter along the far wall. “May I help you, sir? Beautiful piece, that.”
“I suppose.” He looked up and around the room again, moving back from the table.
“Are you looking for anything in particular?” The clerk stepped out from behind the narrow shelf that served as a counter, its surface covered in receipts and forms. Her face was youthful, alert. Some might describe it as attractive, if you looked beyond the mousy hair and thick glasses. He couldn’t.
“I’m looking for Sal. Is he around?”
The girl smiled thinly and nodded, then ducked through the small door in the back without saying another word.
“My friend.” Sal’s voice was silky smooth, his smile practiced.
The customer shook Sal’s hand in greeting, noting that, as always, Sal’s eyes held a smile that hinted at a secret, as if he were laughing at him, not with him. “How are you, Sal? Got anything new for me?”
Sal spread his hands wide. “My friend, it’s only been a week. Nothing has come in recently, I’m sorry. But you know how it is.” Sal put his hand out and stroked the statue that had caught the customer’s eye. “We never know when a new delivery might be available.”
The customer frowned. “Of course.”
“But I have other products, you can see. These are all completely legitimate, I can prove the provenance of each of these.”
The customer once again looked around the store. Every item displayed was on sale, some for prices that shocked even him. But none offered the thrill, the feeling of accomplishment and power the other items gave him. The black rhino horn, prized for its healing qualities and banned by the U.S. government. The ancient artifacts, dug up from old, abandoned tombs by bold grave robbers around the world. Weapons from the Civil War, with the thrill of history so close to hand.
The customer had started with legal items, years ago when he’d first started purchasing from Sal. But Sal must have seen something in his eyes, had recognized the need to own something special. Something unique.
He shook his head, disappointed. “Then for now, I’m looking for a statue. Something dark. Wood. Perhaps with gold.” He raised an eyebrow as he spoke. “I liked the one you sold me last time, but I lost... that is, I had to give it away.” He turned and let his eyes roam over the room as he spoke, hoping to look disinterested. “Quite distinctive. I really enjoyed having it.”
Sal frowned now. “Yes, I remember. Dark wood, carved into the shape of a man, a Norse image, I think.” He shook his head. “That was a piece of crap; I told you that when you bought it. I hope you sold it for a profit.”
“I liked it.” The customer gritted his teeth. “So what else do you have?”
Sal smiled again, lightening the mood. “We have a lot of options.” He stepped around the customer and passed by him to the other side of the room, his smile constant. “We have a surprisingly complete collection of Konare’s work. We picked these up at an estate sale.” He turned back to him, waiting.
“I’m not interested in African art.” He sniffed and looked around. “I want something elegant. Something unusual.”
Sal laughed and the customer bristled. “These aren’t African art; he’s French. Though you should know Soalla is African and his pieces are quite distinctive. Unusual.” He indicated the statue the customer had been admiring.
He felt his face burning at his mistake. Stupid. He clenched his fists, stuffing them into his jacket pockets.
“Of course.” He forced a smile. “Let me see.” He frowned again, looked around, then shook his head. “I don’t see anything here I like. I don’t know what you were thinking.”
Sal grinned again. “The Soalla is a very precious piece. The piece that you were admiring earlier? It would speak volumes about the owner.”
Was that a laugh? Was Sal laughing at him? He bristled, his chest visibly puffing out as he took a sharp breath in. “Do you have others by this artist?”
“No, my friend, that’s the only one we have at the moment. But if you’re interested...” He paused, his head on one side. “If you’re interested in my special collections, I can certainly talk to some people, see what else is available. Check our networks, you know?”
This was better. “Yes. That sounds perfect. I am interested. And I’ll take this one now.”
“Very good.” Sal snapped his fingers and the mousy assistant reappeared from the back room. She bustled about, lifting the heavy statue with both hands and placing it carefully on a pile of white paper. It made a satisfying thump as she placed it down, and he nodded with satisfaction. This would do very well indeed.