FoxTo Forster the jade statuette was exquisite: a centuries old nude carved by a craftsman. And he had to have it.Career down the tubes, funds depleted, he thought briefly of Margaret, his fat bitch of a wife. Probably shoving more food into her oversized mouth, while she pets that hairbrush on legs. Damn dog pissing all over the place...“What’s with you?” he spat at the woman eyeballing him. She hurried on, as Forster grimaced at his sallow complexion in the grimy Georgian panes of the shop. A sad sign read ANTIQUES & CURIOS, nothing more.He slicked back greying hair and straightened his tie, his shadow overlapping the jade. “I want you, little lady.”Closer to the window now, he detected a dim light burning and grinned. “A quick barter and I’m away.”Age, the dull cracked bell, his sneeze at the disturbed dust were all partners of hope. The light issued from a shadeless pendant dangling from a cracked ceiling.“Hello.” A mountain of house clearance stuff wearing yellowed price tags, absorbed it.
