Rita knew that it was high time she had a serious word with Vicky. He had been returning every other day with interesting antiques.

So while having dinner, she asked Vicky about it. “Vicks, where do you get these antiques from? They seem expensive. It must be costing you a fortune.”

“It doesn’t cost me anything. Six months back, I came across this antique shop. The owner Jack seemed excited to see my interest in antiques. I like him cause he’s my treasure trove,” said Vicky.

“Why doesn’t he charge you,” Rita asked. “I think he’s setting you up for heavy expenses?” she added.

“No. Jack says money isn’t important. He wants people to be genuinely interested in antiques. Jack often tells me he wants to gift his precious antiques to the right people. He has promised me something valuable soon.”

Rita stared at her brother incredulously.

A month later Vicky returned home with a large package. It was an ancient oil painting. A reed thin guy with pencil-thin moustache and gold framed round rimmed spectacles stared at her.

Rita thought, “This painting seems rare. Why would an antique dealer give such an antique painting at no cost?”

“Rita this painting reminds me of someone,” Vicky remarked.

Ria too felt a little odd. Something about the painting seemed abnormal. The eyes felt alive – looking down upon them, watchful of every move of theirs.

“Vicky can you give me the address of the shop? I want to check out the pieces,” Rita asked.

“It’s off Kyd Street. The shop’s tiny. If you don’t look carefully, you might miss it. I had been passing the place for three years before I noticed it myself,” said Vicky.

The next day when Rita went there she found a very dilapidated nameplate on a closed door – Gomes’ Antiques Ltd, Established 1902.

Rita cursed her luck. Why did it have to be closed the day she was visiting?

She crossed the street to a bookstore. “Can I help you?” the elderly shop owner asked.

“When will that antique shop open?” asked Rita.

The man seemed surprised. “That shop? It was burnt down ages back. Jack Gomes, the owner, perished in the fire. He was very passionate about antiques. Few weeks back his son visited from the UK. He has found a very good buyer for the property. Last week another gentleman came asking me the same question. Why is everyone suddenly interested in the shop.”

Rita’s head was reeling with the information.

She left the bookstore feeling dizzy. She looked at the antique shop. It was open. A reed thin man with pencil-thin moustache, wearing round-rimmed spectacles was standing in front of it. His eyes were boring into Rita’s. As if in a trance she crossed the road and went towards the antique shop….

And the old man in the bookshop saw her standing outside the closed shop, pushing at the shutters as it trying to open the door. He found it very weird indeed!