Eddie still woke up at 6:30 in the morning. Yesterday, after leaving Hickson's Papa's Diner, he stopped by the supermarket to buy some rice, and this morning made a pot of fish-and-rice porridge. The creamy aroma of the rice blended with the fresh fragrance of wild fish. The snowy-white grains of rice and the glistening fish meat complemented each other perfectly—in color, aroma, and taste.
Eddie was happily eating his breakfast when suddenly there was a "knock knock" at the bedroom window. He opened it, and Little Ming—the red squirrel—jumped in, holding his little paws to his chest, looking up at him with dark little eyes, his tiny tongue lapping out.
"You grease monkey must be addicted to my fruit salad, aren't you?" Eddie laughed. He put down his bowl and chopsticks, then scooped a handful of blueberries and black grapes, mixed them in syrup and salad dressing in a small bowl, and set it on the table. He picked up a blueberry and tapped the table: "Ming, come up."
The squirrel seemed perplexed, hopping around on the floor, stretching his paws and chirping with longing. Eddie called again. Ming blinked his black eyes, then climbed up the table leg to the spot Eddie had indicated.
Eddie was amazed at how clever the little squirrel was. He handed Ming a blueberry several times, and before long, as soon as he called "Ming," the squirrel happily ran over to him.
"D*mn, smarter than any dog I've ever owned," Eddie sighed. Just as he was praising Ming, the squirrel, satisfied and full, flicked its big tail and dashed off like a flash.
Not long after, Little Ming returned, hopping in—even bringing along a slightly larger red squirrel. Eddie grinned ruefully: this little guy treats his place like a charity hall, even bringing friends over for a meal.
But neither of the two squirrels went straight to the fruit. Ming led his friend over, and they each held out a plump pine nut in their front paws—they had even brought gifts. These pine nuts were likely winter stores intended for survival through spring. Spring in Canada comes late; until April, squirrels can't find food. These pine nuts were precious.
Both nuts were full and round. Eddie took them; Ming jumped excitedly, while the newcomer hung back modestly. Ming climbed onto the table and chirped; the newcomer cautiously followed and climbed too. Eddie set the pine nuts down; Ming hopped over, grabbed one, and dropped it before him, clearly offering it for Eddie to eat.
No choice—Eddie cracked it open and popped the nut into his mouth. It was sweet—sweeter than the syrup he'd used in the fruit salad. Delicious. The roasted pine nuts back home couldn't compare.
Seeing Eddie eat two nuts, Ming was delighted, dancing around the fruit bowl. Eddie offered another blueberry, but this time Ming didn't eat it; instead, he gave it to the other squirrel. Together with the two squirrels, Eddie went upstairs to the bedroom to watch TV. Ming was interested in the screen and bounced when Eddie smiled, while the other squirrel curled up on Eddie's shoulder, dozing with a black grape in its paws.
Eddie's phone rang. Creeper's voice came through: he and friends from Lewis's Auction House would arrive shortly.
Before long, a BMW 750Li pulled into the fishing grounds. Creeper got out; he was followed by three men—one a balding elder with sharp energy, and two middle-aged white men in suits with blond hair.
Creeper introduced the balding man: "This is my good friend, Sashevski, art director for Lewis Auction House in Ontario. These two are his colleagues, both appraisers from Lewis."
The suited men each introduced themselves: one was Calvin, specializing in sketches; the other was Petrus, skilled in oil paintings. Eddie laid out thirty paintings. The three donned gloves, took magnifying glasses, and brought out a small scanning device connected to a laptop.
Creeper had told Eddie about Lewis Auction House. Although not at the level of Sotheby's, Christie's, Phillips, or Sotheby's London, it's well-known in Canada. Founded in 1958 in Kelowna, British Columbia, it's now based in Vancouver, with over 110 offices and more than 1,160 full-time employees—undeniably the leader in Canadian auctions.
Sashevski was serious. After examining the paintings, he furrowed his brow and conferred with his two colleagues. They first studied works attributed to Pinajan, carefully reviewing each one for about an hour. Finally, Sashevski sat next to Eddie and said, "Hello, Eddie. Based on our analysis, all of Mr. Pinajan's paintings are authentic."
Eddie was puzzled—what difference does authenticity make? Was Pinajan some famous painter? He hadn't found any information online. Sashevski clarified: "Arthur Pinajan was an Armenian-American painter and cartoonist, born in 1914. His parents survived the Armenian Genocide of 1915 and emigrated to the United States. He was self-taught from childhood."
"Like many famous artists, he struggled in life, making a living by drawing for cartoon companies. He died in 1999. Only a year after his death did the art world recognize his achievements in fine art. He was skilled in portraiture, landscapes, and especially in abstract expressionism, which is considered highly valuable."
Sashevski's brief background pleased Eddie. He asked, "Are Pinajan's paintings valuable?" Sashevski smiled: "Yes—but only some of his abstract pieces are valuable. You have four abstracts here, but they are early works, not particularly valuable."
Eddie sighed—it hurt to hear. He pressed, "How much are these paintings worth?"
Sashevski thought a moment: "If sold individually, they could fetch 2 to 2.2 million Canadian dollars. But if auctioned together, the total would be about 1.5 million CAD."
Creeper asked, "Why such a big difference?"
Eddie was at least pleased—enough to pay his probate tax so he could claim the fishing grounds. Sashevski explained: "Rarity drives value. If 30 Pinajan paintings flood the market at once, their value diminishes. You could sell them individually—you don't have to auction separately—but that avoids some issues."
Creeper pushed, "Why not auction separately?"
Sashevski answered: "Collectors of Pinajan are other artists, not wealthy patrons attending auctions. Single works at low-profile auctions wouldn't attract collectors. Only a package sale works."
Seeing his friend disappointed, he added: "That Sunflowers copy by Pinajan could be sold singly—estimated around 300,000 CAD. Shouldn't go too low."
Then Sashevski explained why the Pinajan "Sunflowers" copy was fake: famously, Van Gogh was Dutch and used Dutch script, which doesn't include the letters Q, X, or Y. This copy had the phrase "To my wandering life," which contains both X and Y—clear proof it's not genuine.
Eddie was satisfied. He urgently needed money for his probate tax. Selling the paintings would solve his immediate needs. As for more money, he wasn't in a rush. He felt freer, sensing richer finds were only a matter of time.
Next on the agenda: authenticating the Picasso painting, Woman with Gold Drum.
Sashevski said that verifying a Picasso would take at least two hours—they'd need to consult international specialists via their network. Eddie lost interest and upstairs went back to watch TV with his two squirrels.
Before he knew it, at eleven o'clock, Sashevski knocked and entered. His gaze was immediately drawn to a bronze statue displayed on the balcony. He hurried over and inspected it carefully—though Eddie thought it was corroded and probably worthless.
Sashevski circled the statue, frowned, then turned to Eddie: "Eddie, I have good news, bad news, and uncertain news. Which would you like first?"
Eddie inwardly shouted—but managed to stay polite: "Please go ahead, sir."
Sashevski nodded: "Good news first—the Woman with Gold Drum is indeed an authentic Picasso. Carbon dating shows it was created in 1939."
"The bad news is that it's from Picasso's transitional period and was likely sketched casually—it's not worth much. Only a little more than the Pinajan Sunflowers copy."
"And the uncertain news: your 'Perseus and Medusa' statue may also be authentic. I'll invite a colleague to evaluate it immediately. If genuine, it could be worth at least 30 million CAD!"