"You left out how." I bite my tongue. This is a man that I do not wish to insult.
Uncle Carmine smiles and let's it pass. "My young friend, I truly apologize. If I had known it was you, hand to God, I would not have allowed it. How may I make it up to you?"
I polish off the espresso and pause for a moment; trying to give the appearance of thoughtfulness. "Nothing Mr. Santucci. This was, as you say, a minor inconvenience." Huh? "There must not be any hard feeling among friends." Don't blame me. I have an adult male affliction. Suffer from watching 'The Godfather' too many times.
Uncle Carmine, "Thank you. You are a respectful young man. I trust that you were not hurt?"
"Not a scratch. Although, it did cause a run in with the police. But, that's already been taken care of."
"And the two guys that attacked you?"
"That's a different matter altogether. The taller one, unfortunately, has a broken wrist. My guess is that he'll require corrective surgery. I apologize for the inconvenience." Pretty funny, huh?
For the most fleeting of moments Carmine gives me the bent eye. It passes so quickly one may imagine that it didn't occur at all. I know better. But even in his world, Carmine concedes that I hold the moral high ground. Did I say moral?
"I'll take care of any medical expenses. Mr. Picker, I want to thank you for dropping by. To be honest, I always enjoy our little chats. And, I like you. You are my friend. If you ever need my assistance, for anything, please feel free to call upon me."
I was being dismissed. Uncle Carmine handed me a business sized card. It contained a hand written phone number only. "My personal number Mr. Picker."
"Thank you Mr. Santucci."
"Please, call me Uncle Carmine."
Time out
It was almost three months to the day that Kato adopted me.
The following is what happened.
Another beautiful morning at the flea market. Looking for something to buy and perhaps turn around for a small profit. Walking up one row; back down another; scanning the tables and occasionally stopping to examine something up close.
Googie Great Horse, some sort of American Indian descendent, is set up at a corner table. Now, if you have never been to an outdoor market, then allow me to briefly fill you in on the set up.
Most fleas, but not all, have the dealer park his or her car, pick-up, van or even truck behind their table or tables. The tables are positioned in a long straight row, back to back. So, if you can picture this, when you set up you'll will have a dealer on your right, one on the left and several to your back.
If you think that this is a little chaotic, you would be correct. Pulling-in in the morning is a major headache. Leaving when you’re finished can be an absolute nightmare.
Back to my story. Googie is set-up on the corner meaning that no dealer is on his right. His tables, he rented two, are catty-corner to one of the co-op buildings. On the back of his pick-up truck is a crate with half a dozen German Shepherd puppies.
"Good morning, Googie. How's business?"
"Hey, Pick. Good, man. Really good. See anything that you can't live without?"
"Not yet. What's with the dogs?"
Picture this: Very early morning, the sun's not quite all the way up. Hundreds of dealers, both men and women, are walking about hunting for the next great treasure. What's garnering the most attention? Dogs! Six German Shepherd puppies.
"My Angel had some pups. Gotta sell them. My old lady won't let me keep 'em. Hey, maybe you'd like one P. What do ya say?"
I step over to the back of the truck and poke my fingers into the cage. One of them, a monster black and tan, begins to lick my fingers. "I'm not in the market. Out of curiosity, how much?"
"A grand."
"Like I said, not in the market." I’m looking at this one pup, I can't believe how big he is. Maybe forty pounds. "Googie, how old are these puppies?"
"Six weeks. That one, the monster licking you, he's forty, forty-five pounds." Just as I thought.
"Do me a favor. Let him out, I want to take a closer look."
My Uncle Moe pops up out of nowhere. "Don't be doing it laddie. That beast gets out of there and it'll be all over."
The old man doesn't know anything. I ignore him. Googie opens the door, wrestles with these hyper active creatures but manages to pull out the monster. The six week old bundle of energy leaps from the tailgate; dashes over to me and jumps up. He presses his front paws into my chest.
This is where it gets interesting. Very quietly I say, "No." Down he jumps; sits and looks up at me expectantly. "Googie, we're going for a walk. Right back."
"No problem, P."
"Come." That's all I say. Go strolling through the market. Dog stays at my left side, quietly, never running off, no barking, nothing. Is that even possible?
Together we circle the entire market. When we return Googie asks, "Well?"
"I'll think on it. Let you know tomorrow. Don't sell him to anyone. Okay?"
"No problem, Pick. For you buddy, anything."
At the restaurant I grab a slice of cherry pie and a mug of coffee. Uncle Moe joins me. "Well, laddie, it looks as though you have a new friend."
"No Uncle. I didn't buy him. Got to think about it."
"Silly, boy. Trust me, it's a done deal."
I walk up the hill to where the Morgan is parked. Sitting in the front seat, with his mouth slightly open and tongue showing is the monster. How did he know which car?
"Come." And he does. We walk back to Googie's table. "What's going on G? I found this beast in my car."
"Not my fault dude. Couple of minutes after you left he takes off like a bat out of hell."
I close my eyes, shake my head and take a moment to think. "TJ will drop off the money in the morning. Come monster."
And that, as they say, was that.
Ball three
"It's yours for ten thousand, P."
Kato and I had arrived at the converted synagogue a few minutes before two o'clock. Antiquarian's Delight is located on S. 6th Street between South and Bainbridge. No sign of Chucky.
"That's a fair price Crystal, but too rich for my blood."
Crystal Ball, yes, that's her real name, was selling a woven wool rug with a linear border design. It included squares, ovals and rectangles. The colors were dark blues and tans; this collection of shapes framing a large circle in the middle on a gray ground. 8' x 11'5", made about 1905, possibly by Otto Prutcher. My best guess, fifteen or sixteen thousand, high retail.
Hint: The secret to success in the antiques game is (a) buying at the right price and (b) having a list of buyers lined up. The second one takes time, however, once accomplished assures that you can always turn a quick profit.
She looked me up and down, glanced at my dog and asked, "What do you have in mind?"
I have to confess. This carpet was very cool. Part of the Wiener Werkstatte or in English, the Vienna Workshops. This was a byproduct of the Vienna Secession movement; which in turn was a cousin to both the Art Nouveau and Arts and Crafts movements. The studio was founded in 1903 by Josef Hoffmann and Koloman Moser. Their mission was to design one-of-a-kind high-quality pieces involving all aspects of the fine arts.
Wiener Werkstatte pieces are very desirable and bring big bucks. "I'm more comfortable at seven."
It was going on a quarter past and still no sign. "Kato, find Chuck." Do not ask me how he does it because I have no idea. Any time I give that command; doesn't matter whether he has met that person or not, Kato always brings them back.
"Seven-five and you've got yourself a deal."
She stood on her toes and pecked my cheek. Back in the day; BK, we used to see each other occasionally.
"TJ will pick it up in the morning. Thanks, Crystal."