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Cont'd. from last week. Sorry, no recaps.
The sting was partly primed, but the story had a lot more to unfold. How would this collection all of a sudden be available? Why, if the elderly couple hadn't chosen to sell before, would they want to sell now? Guy had a handle, however, with my dog collar and the fact that the elderly couple could be erased on his whim at any time. Or, they could also need a little cash or possibly just get bored--I was eager to see which way he would turn the narrative. His next move was to give the couple a son, Shaw by name, who was going to be referred to me by Mindy Papp through her dealer friend in Putney, Kate. Shaw would have met Kate in her Putney Gallery. This was a separate track of the narrative. Kate would deal with me because Mindy told Kate that I had a dog collar collector in hand. The brass dealer cousin was left out of the loop, which was fine as she got cold feet about stringing Daisy along. Hence Kate introduced Mindy to Shaw, who just happened to know Guy as they had both attended Oxford therefore bringing Guy into the narrative. Mindy, in turn, referred me to Kate who in turn referred Shaw to me. I was then in the position to tell Daisy that I had heard directly from the son, Shaw, who was interested in discussing the value and potentially, to sell the collection. Shaw offered to send me a collar (the one I had laying around) which I could show to Daisy. It sounds complicated, but Guy wanted to back up every step in case Daisy decided to ask some probing questions. That still didn't explain why the parents would sell even one collar. The reason, of course, is that they were hit by a bus and died instantly, and the son was now dealing with the estate and doing his due diligence. The son, whose real name was Shaw Kinsley (a very close friend of Guy and Mindy's) agreed to participate, his role being to wind up his parent's estate and then take a job on the West Coast of the United States, San Francisco apparently, as a chauffeur for none other than Ann and Gordon Getty.
Shaw was a marvelous man and a good friend of mine as well. A bibliophile who, when he was home in Arizona, drove an old Rolls Royce Silver Cloud that he'd inherited from his father. He had a wonderful sense of humor and was wildly generous--I once called him when I was in Arizona with my wife and daughter and he gamely offered to put us up for several days. Shaw had what many call a midlantic accent, meaning that many people thought he was English. He also dressed the part, very buttoned down and tweedy with mannerisms that could only be thought of as, if not English, then non-American. He was the perfect role player in Guy's drama and someone who enjoyed the retributory aspect of practical jokes, meaning that if you do them, you must be prepared to endure them. Finally, I have to say that with the players all set, this having taken close to six months to come to fruition, we were ready for the denouement.
The last act was scripted by Guy to take place in my shop. A shipper friend was brought in to arrive with a crate with papers that I was to sign in front of Daisy. Guy and Shaw would arrive shortly thereafter in order to give me permission to open the crate. Daisy arrived and I could feel the excitement pulsing off of her. And then the crate arrived and finally, Shaw and Guy. Daisy greeted Shaw and said nice things about his parents and what a way to go--to be hit by a bus! Shaw was very respectful and replied that they were old and feeble, but that of course it was a terrible blow. He mentioned the opportunity availed to him by their loss and not having to look out for them anymore allowing him to accept the job with the Gettys. Daisy was not paying attention to this and missed the hint about Shaw's potential job and focused on me as I was opening the crate. On the top of the crate that was filled with packing straw lay a red velvet draw string bag which Daisy almost ripped out of my hands when I picked it up. She pulled out the dog collar on the inside. It was a brand new dog collar and had an etched name plate, just as many Victorian collars had. The dog's name etched on to the metal plate--Gotcha!
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