Page 57 of A Talent for Murder

Mo disappeared through the swinging doors again and returned with Henry’s cup of coffee, placing it in front of him. “You’re a lifesaver,” he said, then asked if he could get a shot of Jameson’s on the side as well.

“Do you need a menu?” Mo said, after pouring him his shot.

“Sure, I’ll look at one.”

Henry looked at the menu and ordered the chili. When Mo brought it five minutes later, he was ready with his cell phone out, the picture of Ethan Saltz.

“I’m actually in town looking for someone,” he said to her. “I was hoping you could help.”

“Sure,” she said, and he held the phone out to her. She leaned in close, squinting.

“Yeah, I know him. He comes in here sometimes. But I don’t know anything about him.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Henry said, surprised his voice sounded as calm as it did.

Mo frowned, her chin wrinkling. “Don’t know exactly, but not recently. Like I said, it’s not that I know him, but his face is familiar. He comes in here. Try Norman,” she said, looking over at the man three stools down.

Norman had already been listening to the conversation, and when Henry turned to him, he held his hand out for the phone. Henry handed it over.

“Hmm,” Norman said. “I think he told me his name was Brad Something. Nice guy. Hasn’t been in here too recent, though, like Mo said.” He handed the phone back, reaching his arm out very slowly as though it hurt him to move.

“Can I ask you some questions?” Henry said, moving his chili and coffee down and changing stools to be closer to him.

“Sure,” Norman said. “But can I ask you why you’re asking?”

“It’s complicated, plus a little boring,” Henry said. “I’m a private investigator and it’s possible that the man in the picture, that Brad, has been involved in a financial scheme. By involved, it looks as though he’s a victim and not a perpetrator. My client wants me to find him and it’s turning out to be harder than I thought it would be.”

“Well, you’ve come this far. He must have an address here in Tohickon.”

“All my client knows is that he lives here, but, no, I don’t have an address, and I’m having no luck with real estate records in locating him. You never knew his last name?”

“He introduced himself as Brad. Clearly that’s not the name you have, or you wouldn’t be grilling me about it.”

Henry sipped his coffee, now laced with Irish whiskey. “I have limited information, that’s for sure. You’re the first lead I’ve gotten.”

“I’m not going to be much help to you, I’m afraid. He’s come in here for lunch before, just like you’re doing now. And he’s sat at the bar and the two of us talked, again, just like you and I are doing, and the only reason I remember his name was Brad was because he told it to me and I recalled thinking that he looked a little like Brad Pitt, you know, strong jaw, blue eyes. So the name stuck with me.”

“Did he tell you anything about what he did or where he lived here in town?”

While the man thought, he moved his fingers on the surface of the bar like he was playing a piano. “Said he was an art collector and told me he had property here in town, but the way he said it made it sound like he didn’t really live here.”

“Okay,” Henry said. “You’ve been helpful.”

“What’s your name again?”

“Ted Lockwood. Let me get you a card.” He thumbed out another one of his fake private investigator cards. It was his last one.

“I’m Norman Hart.”

“Let me buy you a drink, Norman,” Henry said, catching Mo’s eye.

Mo uncapped another bottle of beer and poured another short whiskey.

“If you were me, Norman,” Henry said, “where would you go looking for this man’s house here in Tohickon?”

“I suppose you could just knock on every door. There’s only about three hundred houses in this whole town. But if you didn’t want to do that, I suppose you could look for a fancy car out front of a house.”

“Brad drove a fancy car?”

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