Something Missing_ A Novel - Matthew Dicks [55]
The bag is in excellent condition—no marks, scratches, or any sign of wear at all. Bags like this just get better and better as they get older. A bag like this will give someone a lifetime of pleasure, unlike me who just has to have every new bag in sight. 14” high x 14” wide x 6” deep, 20” with shoulder strap up—plenty of room to wear over your shoulder.
Of course, Martin researched handbags extensively before posting his listing, and much of the language was lifted directly from other listings for bags of similar design. He had learned to capitalize keywords like designer names and country of origin after studying some of the more successful sellers on eBay. In all, Martin found the process remarkably simple and in less than two weeks had a money order in his hand in the amount of $167.00. Even more interesting, Martin had received an email a couple of days into the auction from a woman asking about the bag, and his ensuing response (carefully crafted over a two-hour period) had launched a string of e-mails between the two in which he learned a great deal about the woman, a shopkeeper in Rhinebeck, New York, by the name of Jane. In fact, within a week he had acquired Jane’s address, the name of her business (The Cozy Chair), the ages and occupations of her three children, and many of the sordid details relating to her recent divorce. In return for this torrent of information, Martin provided similar, though fictional, details about Barbara, and eventually the two had struck up an online friendship. How remarkable, he had thought. With relative ease, he had managed to pass himself off as a middle-aged suburban housewife, and this game of false identities thrilled him beyond belief.
Over the next six months, Martin continued to sell off his mother’s collection of handbags, designer dresses and coats, jewelry, and even her shoes. Through his listings, he wove the tale of a middle-aged woman who was learning to enjoy the freedom that her empty nest had suddenly provided. He wrote of Barbara’s travels to Barcelona, Greece, and the Caribbean, all places that Martin had never been but had studied extensively through travel brochures and online research. He waxed lyrical about the romance that was returning to her marriage after years of busy parenthood. He wrote of her love for fashion, a topic about which Martin knew nothing when he began, but one in which he became quite fluent in a short time. Each listing was more personal than the last, a blend of capitalism and personal blogging before blogging had hit the mainstream, and each revealed another nugget about Barbara Teal and her life, friends, and family. He even bid on several auctions himself and won a few in order to reinforce Barbara’s identity, while at the same time acquiring items that he thought he could resell at a higher price later on.
In June, a woman by the name of Rosemary, who had already bought several items from Martin, contacted him about selling some of her own things; handbags and sweaters to start. He had learned early on in his research that some of the sellers on eBay made a business out of selling items for others, collecting as much as 25 percent of the sale as a commission, and so without much consideration, he agreed. Thanks to Barbara Teal’s unique and personalized listings, the sweaters and bags sold quickly and were followed by Rosemary’s unwanted jewelry shoes, and a collection of Rookwood pottery all of which fetched Martin a handsome profit for serving as the middleman. Before long, he had more than a dozen women for whom he was selling goods, and in some cases Martin was bypassing eBay entirely, simply selling one item to another of his regular clients without the hassle of an online auction. By the time he was ready to make his first large-scale acquisition, a Marc Jacobs bag from Emma Reed’s extensive collection, Martin had