The particular painting that everyone was making a fuss over was an unusual choice for Doo Wop. His common medium was oil, yet with the Turner he chose to work in watercolor.

"Ten grand, cash, firm." Kato is lying at my feet. Uncle Moe, standing slightly to my left, has a bemused look upon his face.

Part of Doo Wop's genius is that he never copied a known painting. The work of art in question was one that the brilliant Turner at no time painted. But, it could have been. A common theme with Turner was shipwrecks; and this was a beautiful example.

A huge ship; sail extended on a rough sea with sparkling sun light. Anthony DW DeAngelo perfectly captured the master's style. Simply put, it was breath taking.

"Picker, are you out of your mind. The damn thing is a copy. Who in their right mind is going to pay that kind of money for a copy?"

"Hey, guys, I'm selling the painting, not the signature. You don't want it, don't buy it." Any moron worth his or her salt could easily double their investment. What were they pestering me for?

"I'll take it!" Molly Malloy, a dealer that has an art gallery in the town of Lambertville pushed her way through the crowd. At one time, we spent a couple of evenings together. She reached into her handbag and pulled out her checkbook.

"No checks Molly. Take it with you. TJ will stop by today or tomorrow for the cash."

"Thanks Picker. You're a doll."

Meanwhile, the other dealers are shuffling away bellyaching about their misfortune. One thing that antique dealers love to do is complain. I swear that I could hear, “Grumble! Grumble, grumble.”

I threw the easel into the trunk; Uncle Moe hopped into the front seat; Kato into the back. Started my yellow Morgan Plus 8 and took off like a bat out of hell. I caught the first traffic light en route to Interstate 95. The cell phone vibrated in my pocket.