Muller, Marcia, [McCone 01] Edwin of the Iron Shoes(v1, shtml) Read Online Free PDF Page B

he went on, "if you think of them as products of an assembly-line process, that makes it more believable, right?"
    "So most of this stuff," I gestured around the store, "is fraudulent?"
    He winced a little. "That's kind of harsh. Let's face it, we're not any of us big-name dealers down here. Mostly the people who come to Salem Street are looking for something cheap to fill space in their apartments. Or, if they have a little extra to spend, they want a conversation piece. They're none of them collectors, and they don't demand authentication on what they buy. A lot of them are tourists who want to take a souvenir of their trip to San Francisco—maybe something like a lacquered Oriental vase—back home to the Midwest."
    "And?"
    "And it gives them the chance to poke around down here and have some fun buying that vase. It doesn't matter that it's the same thing they could have bought in Chinatown, 'cause hunting around Salem Street isn't as plastic as shopping in Chinatown. Sure, a lot of these so-called antiques are mass-produced, but Joanie and the others would have been the first to admit it, had anyone asked them."
    I hadn't meant to put him on the defensive. Quickly I asked, "So they're all ordered from catalogues?"
    "Right. Oliver van Osten acts as a broker for several European antique manufacturers." Charlie smiled at the contradiction in terms. "He comes around once a month and takes orders."
    "He sells to a lot of people on the street?"
    "To Joanie, Austin Bigby, maybe five or six others. He even helps them coordinate what they buy so they don't all end up with the same stock. It would look pretty funny if that same marble inlaid washstand turned up in every shop on the street!"
    I grimaced sympathetically, trying to imagine the dealers explaining their way out of that. "Can you show me one of the fakes?"
    "Sure." Charlie got up and went over to what looked like a little pedestal table. "This is a smoking stand. Carved pedestal, light ornamentation, copper-lined. Circa nineteen hundred. Now come with me."
    He went toward the little workroom at the back, motioning for me to follow. The room was stacked with furniture, furniture I'd assumed needed refinishing or repairs before it was salable. In the corner, behind the littered workbench, Charlie pointed out three more smoking stands, identical to the first in every detail.
    "Joanie bought five; that's about a standard order for large pieces. She sold one, and as soon as the customer left the shop, its twin was out on the floor."
    I shook my head. "It still sounds underhanded to me."
    "You're probably right, but that's the way it's done."
    We returned to the main room and took up our former positions by the cash register.
    I asked, "This van Osten, what do you know about him?"
    "About Ollie?" Charlie shrugged. "He's a damned good salesman."
    I was aware of that. "He must make a lot of money. I mean, he dresses well and drives an expensive car."
    "Money is the prime motivation for any good salesman, and Ollie's a real success story."
    "Tell me about him. What's his background?"
    "Well, once when I got him talking, he told me he grew up in North Dakota—Fargo, to be exact. His father owned a tavern. Ollie ran away and joined the army as soon as he could, to get out of working in the bar. The army sent him to Europe, he got interested in art, and stayed on to study. Now he's one of the most successful brokers in the country. Covers five states."
    "Strange he'd go from studying art to selling fakes."
    Charlie shook his head. "Not if you know Ollie. He found out there wasn't enough money in art, and so…"
    "I see. You realize he hates for you to call him 'Ollie,' don't you?"
    Charlie's grin was sly. "Of course. That's why I do it. But don't tell me you suspect Ollie?"
    "I suspect anyone who was associated with Joan in any way."
    The grin dropped off his face, and he flinched.
    "Oh, Charlie, I didn't mean
you
." As I said it, I wondered why the big junkman
wasn't
on my list of