Free The Feathery by Bill Flynn

Gamby left, wheeling the cart to a room where he and his staff would appraise the collection.

An hour later Gamby returned to the lobby. An expression of dismay was on his face and he shook his head. "Carrabba offered you one hundred thousand for the lot?"

"That’s right. Do you know him?" Scott asked.

"The man is a scoundrel. He owns a golf course upstate, with a clubhouse full of museum-quality golf antiques to show off. I must say, some of the items were obtained by devious means." Gamby’s eyes shifted between Scott and Matt before he continued in agitated words that didn’t guard his native Yorkshire dialect. "Carrabba knows the worth of that feathery, and that bugger tried to steal the bloody ball from you."

"What’s it worth?" Scott asked.

"The feathery alone at auction could be bid up at well over a million." Gamby rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Packaged with the score card signed by the Society of Saint Andrews Golfers, along with McNair’s journal, further authenticating the record…who knows how much higher it could go?" Gamby continued in the same high-pitched voice caused by his excitement over the feathery. "The Royal and Ancient would have dearly wanted the feathery donated to a museum when found, but evidently Sandy McNair decided to keep it in his family before he left it to you. Collectors have been seeking this lost treasure for years."

Scott was stunned. After a few minutes, he recovered enough to ask Gamby. "How about the other things in the collection?"
"The old books, clubs and paintings should get bids totaling between one hundred and one-hundred, fifty thousand. The bronze statuette of the nude woman golfer is unique. That bronze came from the studio of Rodin in Paris around 1865, according to the mark on the base. The circumstances on how and why it got to Scotland and into Hugh McNair’s possession require some research before an estimated value can be established."

"What happens now?" Scott asked.

"Well, if you’d like Covington Gallery to represent you at auction, we may proceed," Gamby said.

Scott glanced over at Matt and saw him shrug his shoulders. His palms-up gesture was like when the club selection for a golf shot was Scott’s final call, not his. Scott reasoned for a time about his decision before answering Gamby. Would Sandy want me to keep the feathery? But I need the money to continue playing, and I’m certain he’d want me to do that .
     
    Scott’s sigh was edged in regret and some sadness. "Okay, let’s do the auction."
    They left the lobby for Gamby’s office where he explained the auction process to Scott. "You must consign the collection to Covington Gallery. We will make up an announcement in brochure format that’ll describe the items and include the time and place for previewing the auction. The announcement will be sent by email and target a select list of collectors whose interest we know to be high."
     
    "Will the auction be here in New York?"

"No, Scott, we’ll hold it in our London gallery. After I appraised the lot I phoned our owner to confirm the London location. She’s very excited about the find. Sarah Covington played on the European Women’s Tour for five years before she inherited the gallery from her mother. Sarah’s an avid collector of golf antiques with early Saint Andrews origination."

The name, Covington as part of the Gallery, got Matt’s attention when he first heard it, but he cast aside any connection with Sarah Covington other than a name coincidence until Gamby spoke about the owner. Matt thought, Damn it, that’s her! I’ll warn Scott about Sarah when the time is right, but while doing the deal, he doesn’t need that confusion.

"Why is the auction in London, Mr. Gamby?" Scott asked.

"Keen interest in the collection centers in Great Britain, Ireland and, of course, Scotland. Collectors from the United States and other countries not in attendance will be connected by satellite link to our auction in London and