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windfall came in, but the money had never materialized. Goudsmid badgered Drewe about the inheritance, and around the time that she met Myatt, Drewe began to tell Goudsmid that the money would come in the form of earnings from the sale of artworks that Catch owned.
    Blissfully unaware of the financial intricacies of the Drewe/ Goudsmid household, Berger accepted Drewe’s proposition that he become his agent in selling some of the paintings. In return, he would receive a 10 to 20 percent commission, depending on the sale price of the work.
    The first painting Drewe brought to Danny Berger’s garage was a canvas by the British artist Ben Nicholson. Berger put on his best suit and took the tube down to Cork Street, a stretch of London that was home to some two dozen galleries and private dealers. He walked the picture from one shop to the next but found no takers. Dejected, he tucked the canvas under his arm, went home, and called Drewe to give him the bad news and ask for an explanation. Was there something wrong with the painting? Something lacking in his salesmanship?
    No, Drewe said. The piece was solid. Berger needn’t worry. There would be other works to sell very soon.
    A week later, Drewe called to say that he had sold the piece to the dealer Leslie Waddington for £135,000. Waddington was one of the most prestigious dealers in London, an irrepressible man with a large staff and three blue-chip galleries on Cork Street. He was also a Nicholson expert who had once worked closely with the painter. The news of the sale renewed Berger’s confidence in Drewe. He knew enough of the market by now to know the dealer’s reputation. If it was good enough for Waddington, it was good enough for Danny Berger.
    Within days, Drewe was back at the garage with two abstract works by Roger Bissière. This time Berger was determined to make a sale. He called on every business acquaintance and distant relative, every former partner and friend. A private dealer he knew agreed to show photographs of the paintings to Adrian Mibus, an Australian gallerist on Duke Street, and Mibus agreed to come by and see the works.
    At the garage, Drewe let Berger do most of the talking. Mibus did not seem put off by the grubby surroundings. “It’s not all that common to meet in a place like that, but not unusual if the buyer or seller wants to be private,” Mibus later recalled. 6
    Mibus looked closely at the two Bissières. Though they were hardly extraordinary, the price was right. Berger and Drewe wanted to make a quick sale and were prepared to accept a price well below market value. If Mibus paid cash, they would take £15,000 for the pair.
    Cash deals were common, and were a good way to lighten the tax burden. Mibus agreed to the terms and almost immediately sold one of the paintings to a French dealer for a good profit. He decided to hold on to the second and show it at an upcoming art fair.
    Several weeks later he returned to Berger’s garage to see another Bissière, as well as a work by Nicolas de Staël. The Bissière, titled Composition 1958, was a colorful oil with a red border and several red, yellow, blue, and white squares. The de Staël was equally vibrant, with the artist’s characteristic use of thick layers of paint laid down with a knife. On its reverse was a brief dedication to a Mrs. Richardson: “To the memory of our walk in the park this afternoon.”
    A nice detail, Mibus thought, wondering who the handsome artist’s companion had been.
    He struck another cash deal with Berger: £32,500 for the de Staël and £7,500 for the Bissière. Then he took the de Staël to Christie’s for a “flyby,” an informal estimate of what the work might bring at auction. One of the Christie’s experts quoted a figure much higher than the sum Mibus had paid and encouraged him to put it on the block. He said he would think about it.
    Mibus’s was a labor-intensive business. For all the glamour and spark it provided, and for all that he