By the way, if you think for a moment that valuable finds such as this cannot be found at a flea market, think again. It happens every day of the week at some flea market somewhere in the country.

My Uncle Moe appeared suddenly at my side and whispered in my ear. "It be the real deal, sonny."

"Thanks Uncle." Helpful, isn't he?

I looked up and saw Danny's bright white teeth smiling at me. I smiled back. "What do you have to get?"

He hemmed and hawed. Danny's got great instincts, but his weakness is in pricing. "I'm thinking five grand."

I laughed. "Tell you what Danny Boy. I'll give you ten grand, not a penny more." My thinking was that I could flip the vase to a retail art glass dealer and make a quick eight or ten thousand dollars. Everyone would be happy.

Danny stuck out his hand and said, "Deal." Mai came over, stood on her tip-toes and kissed my cheek, again. "Thanks Pick."

"TJ will stop by tomorrow with the cash." I wrapped the vase back up and was on my way.

Thomas Jefferson Smith is my oldest friend. He has dark skin, an athletic build and stands at 5'10". His full time job is that of my runner, despite his extensive education. A runner is someone that sniffs out deals and runs errands. While the description doesn't do it justice, the job requires a great amount of knowledge and skill. To be perfectly honest, I believe that the only reason he does it is to keep a protective eye on me.

Back at my spot dealers of all shapes and sizes, both sexes, are ogling my painting.

A chorus of "Where have you been?" rings from the crowd.

"Okay, okay. Everyone, take a deep breath and calm down. I told you, it is not for sale."

O'Neil, an eclectic dealer, steps forward and places his huge paw on my shoulder. "Com' on Pick. Give us a price so we can do some business and get on with our day."