Page 54

But that’s a problem for another day. Right now, I’m trying to explain the modern banking system to a man who has a small fortune hidden behind a bookshelf.

“So we take some of the gold to a reputable dealer,” I say. “Get it authenticated and appraised. Then we can sell what we need to cover the repairs.”

“Very well.”

“And we’ll need to look into your old accounts. And the trust.”

“I imagine those have grown considerably.”

“Assuming they still exist.”

He looks offended. “Of course they exist.”

“Gabriel, it’s been a hundred and forty-three years.”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“Banks close. Companies merge. Things happen.”

He frowns.

“I had excellent financial advisers.”

“I’m sure you did. But unless they were vampires, I’m guessing they’ve retired.”

He considers that. “Given what I’ve learned about this town, perhaps I shouldn’t dismiss the possibility.”

I snort.

“Fair point.”

I open another tab.

“Okay. Now let’s talk about your painting.”

He makes a long-suffering sound. “Must we?”

“Yes.” I type in Claude Monet and pull up an image search.

Gabriel leans closer.

I’m constantly surprised that he smells good. He hasn’t had an actual shower or bath since I’ve been here because we haven’t figured out a way for that to happen without me having to participate. I guess he’s just one of those people who naturally smells good.

“Look,” I say, pointing at the screen. “This is the artist whose painting you have in your safe.”

Gabriel studies the images. “Those are all his?”

“Yep.”

“Good heavens. He became quite prolific.”

I blink. Then slowly turn toward him.

“Wait. You knew him?”

“Not personally. I purchased the painting from a dealer in Paris. But he was already in his forties. He must have lived a while longer.”

I stare.