Page 52 of A Talent for Murder

Henry had expected that and said, “No, that’s okay. At least not right now. To be honest with you, the fact that you’ve identified his picture is very helpful. The case I’m looking into is some low-level financial fraud and there was some confusion over whether Robert Charnock was actually the owner of Charnock Gallery. Does the name Ethan Saltz mean anything to you?”

Salah shook his head, but then said, “The name’s familiar. He might be one of our buyers. I can check for you.”

“That would be great,” Henry said.

Salah slid behind his own desk and booted up his laptop that was placed on top of a stack of art books.

“Let me see, let me see,” Salah was saying as he punched at his keyboard. “What’s the spelling of the name?”

“First name is Ethan, and second name is Saltz. S-A-L-T-Z.”

“Huh, nothing,” Salah said. “I could have sworn...”

“That’s okay,” Henry said. “It was probably nothing.”

“Wait, let me try something else.” He clicked some more, then said, “There’s an Evan Saltzman in here. That’s why that name sounded so familiar.”

“Do you know Evan Saltzman?” Henry said.

“I don’t. I mean, I recognized the name, but I’ve never met him. We recently sent him a refund for a painting he returned, which is why the name was familiar. It was a lot of money.” Salah laughed.

“Would it be possible for me to get his address?” Henry said.

Salah seemed to hesitate. “Uh,” he said. “I’m not sure I should give out that information. I probably shouldn’t have given you his name at all.”

“Why not?” Henry said. “You sell art, right? I mean, it’s not exactly top-secret information.”

Henry watched as Salah clenched his teeth slightly, and knew that unless he changed course this conversation was over.

“Listen,” Henry said. “You seem like a smart guy, so I’m going to do you a big favor.” Salah nodded. “Your boss is potentially in big trouble,” Henry continued. “In real big trouble. It’s a financial scam that he seems to be involved with, and I think he’s going to go down with this ship. The question is: Do you want to go down as well?”

Salah pressed a hand to his chest. “I don’t know anything about what you’re talking about. Seriously, believe me. As far as I know, we just sell art here.”

“I believe you, Chris,” Henry said, “but that doesn’t mean that you won’t be implicated. You obviously have access to financial records because you just told me about a cash transaction that went to Evan Saltzman. I just don’t think you’re going to have plausible deniability.”

“Why would I need to have plausible deniability?” he said, his voice rising a little in pitch. “Should I be worried?”

“Well, your boss should be very worried,” Henry said, “and you should be a little worried. I’m going to be honest with you. There’s a third party who is about to give up your boss for financial impropriety. The reason I’m trying to find Robert Charnock—the reason I need to find him—is to give him the opportunity to tell his story before this third party does. It’s that simple. It’s very, very important that I find him, and soon.”

“I can call him,” Salah said, pulling his phone out from his pants pocket.

“It would be much better,” Henry said, “if I could just go find him and speak with him. If you call him, I think he’s going to shut down immediately, and that is not going to go well for him. Do you really think he is actually somewhere on the coast of Maine looking for art? Is it possible he’s somewhere else?”

“It’s possible,” Salah said, “but I have no idea. I think you think I have more involvement with this place than I do. I really don’t. I just work here.”

“Okay, okay,” Henry said. “I believe you. But what would be helpful is if you could give me the address for Evan Saltzman that you have on your computer. I’m only asking because it’s possible that your boss was once someone named Ethan Saltz and having that address might help us locate him.

“If it helps,” Henry added, “I will never reveal that you divulged this information. Right now I just want to find your boss and give him a chance to cooperate before he gets in very big trouble. You’d be doing him a favor.”

Henry was watching Salah’s eyes and could tell he didn’t know what to do. “Maybe if you just excuse yourself for five minutes to use the bathroom,” Henry said. “That would work as well.”

“Okay,” Salah said after a moment. “I actually do need to go and use the bathroom. What’s your name again? Did you give me your card?”

“Oh, sorry,” Henry said, handing him the fake card that identified him as Ted Lockwood. Salah left the room.

Henry moved fast, sitting down behind Salah’s computer. He was staring at some kind of customer database with a number of fields—the customer’s name, email address, physical address, place of business, methods of payment, a list of transactions. Salah had left the page for Evan Saltzman up and Henry photographed it with his phone. There was an address, but it was only a post office box in a place called Tohickon, Pennsylvania. He quickly looked at the amount of the most recent transaction—the refund—and saw that it was for $120,000.

Henry stood up just as Salah came back into the room. Salah’s face was pale and damp along the hairline, like he’d splashed it with cold water.

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