“What’s wrong, Reese?”
I pick the canvas up and take a closer look. “This print. It’s signed as Alvin Hamilton but I know his work. This isn’t his. This is a fake.”
“How can you tell?”
“I just can. I have an eye for this.” I hold the canvas in my hand as I march to the front of the store. A young gentleman is behind the counter, a baseball cap on his head with dark hair peeking through the sides.
“May I help you?”
“Yes, where did you get this?”
“We have people who bring things in all the time.”
“Who brought this to you? This is a fake. Did you know that? Alvin Hamilton did not paint this. Whoever sold this to you did so fraudulently.”
He winces. “That can’t be. My grandpa does a really good job looking over all the items before he accepts them.”
“Is your grandpa here? Maybe I should talk to him.”
“No, he’s not. He’s at an appointment.”
“I need a pen and paper.”
The gentleman gives me both. “Here’s my name and number. Please have him give me a call when he can. In the meantime, I’ll be taking this.”
“Wait! You have to pay for that!” He yells as I start toward the door. I take a twenty dollar bill out of my pocket and toss it on the counter.
“That’s about all this is worth.”
18
Alvin Hamilton’sstudio is located on the east side of the city, tucked away among facades of old buildings. There used to be a paper factory down here, as well as an old furniture store. A lot of the businesses that were once here are now gone and replaced with different ventures, from salons to art studios. It’s easy to miss the businesses that used to occupy the space, but I appreciate the structures haven’t changed.
I open the door to the studio and step in, not knowing what to expect. I’ve never been to Alvin’s studio before. I guess I never thought to come check it out. He doesn’t demand to work in private in his studio and keeps open hours. People sometimes come in to observe him while he works. I always thought it was a little stuck-up of him. Like who is he to be like, “Oh, look at me work! I’m so wonderful!” Maybe there’s more to it than that.
I dropped Kayleigh off back at home before coming over. I did tell her about the job offer, and that’s partly why I’m here. I need to give this piece back to him and make him aware of what is being done at the antique studio and who knows where else.
“Alvin? Are you here?” I say above the music playing. I listen, trying to determine who it is. I don’t think I’ve heard this artist before. It seems like it would qualify as a folksy group. It’s not too bad. I kind of like it.
“Oh, hi! Reese, what are you doing here? What a pleasant surprise!”
He comes out from a room in the back, wearing a black apron that is splashed with color.
“You came to my house, so I thought I should come visit you. Instead of searching for your home, I thought I’d probably be able to find you here.”
“And you did.”
“Yes. Anyway, I need to talk to you about something.”
“Oh? What’s the matter? You look concerned.”
His eyes move toward my hand which holds the fake print. The painting side is facing me so he can’t see it yet.
“This.” I hand him the painting and take a step back like he’ll explode upon seeing it.
“Where did you find this?”
“Billy’s Antiques on Rose Street. I told them it’s not one of yours.”
