Charles Salzberg thought he’d left bodacious burglar Francis Hoyt behind with the publication of 2017’s Shamus-nominated and Beverly Hills Book Award-winning Second Story Man. The author—whose credits include journalism, ghostwriting, non-fiction books, and teaching at the New York Writers Workshop (which he co-founded)—next wrote a fifth entry in his popular Henry Swann series, Swann’s Down (2019), and introduced endearingly caustic PI Pete Fortunato in the standalone crime novel, Canary in the Coal Mine (2022); he also contributed to the anthologies Triple Shot, Third Degree, and Three Strikes with Ross Klavan and Tim O’Mara. But questions about Hoyt lingered throughout the years, resulting in the unexpected continuation novel, Man on the Run.
Master burglar Francis Hoyt is on the run. After walking away from his arraignment in a Connecticut courtroom, he’s now a fugitive who has to figure out what he’s going to do with the rest of his life.
And so, he heads west, to Los Angeles, where he meets Dakota, a young true crime podcaster who happens to be doing a series on Hoyt. At the same time, he’s approached by a mysterious attorney who makes Hoyt an offer he can’t refuse: break into a “mob bank,” and liberate the contents.
John B. Valeri: Man on the Run is the second novel to feature master burglar Francis Hoyt (after Second Story Man). What compelled you to revisit this character – and have you found that there are keys to inhabiting his mind, given his abrasive and unapologetic nature?
Charles Salzberg: I had no intention of writing another book with Francis Hoyt as a character but after finishing Canary in the Coal Mine, I started casting about for what to write next. For some reason, Hoyt kept popping up in my head. I kept wondering, what happens to him after Second Story Man ends. A fugitive now, where does he go? What does he do with his life? The questions started multiplying and the only way I could answer them was to write another novel featuring Hoyt.
JBV: While the book is a sequel of sorts, it’s also a singular story. How did you endeavor to balance incorporating backstory without compromising narrative momentum – and in what ways might being familiar with Second Story Man enhance the reading experience?
CZ: I didn’t want Man on the Run to be a sequel. Instead, I thought of it as a continuation and so I tried to write it so readers wouldn’t have to have read Second Story Man first. And you hit on the very dilemma this posed, John. I knew a certain amount of backstory was necessary—you have to know who the players are and a little of their history—and yet I didn’t want to be repetitive. I wanted it to read like a stand-alone. This wasn’t the first time I chose this route: in my Henry Swann series of five books, I wrote each of them as stand-alone novels, so readers wouldn’t have to read the series in order. Every so often I’d allude very generally to what happened in an earlier book. And yet I think anyone who’s read Second Story Man first, would have a slight advantage in knowing what Hoyt is capable of.
JBV: You introduce a potential foil for Francis in podcaster Dakota Richards, who plans to expose his exploits on her show – with or without his participation. What does each character bring out in the other – and how does their personal connection threaten their professional objectivity?
CZ: At first, it appears Dakota and Francis couldn’t be more different. He’s the hunter and she’s the prey. But as their relationship progresses, their roles sometimes change: Dakota becomes the hunter and Hoyt is her prey. But as time passes, you see there are some strong similarities. Both are very ambitious. Both are very good at what they do. Both are driven to be the best. Both are persistent. Both are really smart. And both, though on different levels, are not averse to manipulating people to get what they want. It’s a matter of degree. Hoyt will stop at nothing in order to attain his goals, while Dakota has a conscience as well as a code of ethics, meaning there are lines she just won’t cross.
JBV: You are a fan of podcasts. What appeals to you about this form of storytelling — and how did you go about capturing the nuances of such a production (through your friendship with Lauren Bright Pacheco) for the purposes of this book?
CZ: Before the pandemic, the only podcast I’d ever listened to was the first year of Serial. But in lock-down that first year, I discovered true crime podcasts and fell in love with the form. The best of them are well-told, long-form stories, reminiscent of writers like Charles Dickens who would serialize their novels in newspapers. Having been a former magazine journalist, I know how difficult it is to gather information, synthesize it, then tell a story so your audience can’t help but be hooked. The best of them are the result of a combination of excellent story-telling and heavy research. Without word count limitations, podcasters have the time to delve deeply into the characters.
Once I decided to write about Hoyt again, an idea popped into my head: what if a true crime podcaster was doing a series on Hoyt and he found out about it? Would he be flattered? Would he feel threatened? What would he do about it? That scenario interested me enough to pursue. But before I did, I needed to know what goes into producing a podcast. One of my favorites at the time was Murder in Oregon, so I tracked down Lauren, who produced, researched it and narrated the podcast. I asked if I could send her a bunch of questions about the ins and outs of podcasting, and she agreed to help by answering a bunch of questions. What I didn’t want, what I never want, is have a reader question the authenticity of the story—in other words, I wanted to make sure I got it right because if I didn’t, I know some reader out there would have called me on it.
JBV: The third POV character, Charlie, is a retired detective whose mission in life is to bring Francis Hoyt down. In some ways, the two seem to represent opposite sides of the same coin. Tell us about the dynamic you wanted to establish between these characters. Also, how does Charlie’s presence heighten the stakes of Francis and Dakota’s (already) tenuous relationship?
CZ: The dynamic between them, which you nailed, was first established in Second Story Man. And you’re absolutely right. They do share many of the same qualities. And yet they couldn’t be more different. At first, it’s just Hoyt and Dakota, but once Floyd appears near the end of the novel, we have a triangle. Each character is inextricably connected to the others because of what they want: Dakota wants to get Hoyt to cooperate by letting her interview him. Floyd wants to put Hoyt where he belongs, behind bars, and Hoyt wants to prove he’s better and smarter than everyone else. Floyd wants to nail Hoyt and put him away for a long time, while Dakota, who has a bit of a grudging attraction to the master burglar, wants him to remain free, at least until she can get him to cooperate with her for her podcast. Each one has something or someone standing in the way of what they want, which is pretty much the definition of conflict and suspense.
JBV: While we don’t often think of burglary as being on par with violent crimes, Francis allows you to illuminate its insidious nature. What intrigues you about these kinds of infractions vs. more sensational ones (such as murder) – and how did occupying Francis’s head space allow you to explore the emotional and physical consequences of such violations?
CZ: I don’t write conventional murder mysteries. I like to concentrate on other, “smaller” crimes. But smaller doesn’t mean less serious. Years ago, I was home one afternoon when someone broke into my apartment, tied me up and robbed me (he was probably quite disappointed because, as a struggling freelance magazine writer, I didn’t have much to steal.) But what I learned from the experience was the psychological damage done from something like that. It’s not about the possessions you lose, it’s more about someone uninvited has invaded your private space. When that happens, it’s rather devastating. And it’s something that stays with you forever. Hoyt is very much aware of this “power” and he uses it against his victims. This is apparent when he breaks into a home and steals absolutely nothing. Instead, he leaves small, subtle signs that he’s been there. He rearranges stuff in the refrigerator. He moves small items around. He drops things on the floor. He wants it known he was there, and he thrives on this power he has to upset lives. You’ll forget about things you lose, but you’ll never forget that feeling of someone uninvited in your space. Hoyt wants others to experience the violent, chaotic world he grew up in.
JBV: The story plays out on both coasts, from California to Connecticut and New York. In your opinion, how does place enhance plot – and in what ways did you set out to distinguish the two regions from one another?
CZ: I needed to get Hoyt off the East Coast, and the West Coast seems like a place where he can go to reinvent himself. But he’s out of his element there, so he has to adjust to a whole new way of life, a way of life, and a whole new set of problems. You need an automobile. But once you have an automobile, you’ve given the authorities a way of tracking you. That presents another problem for Hoyt, who can only successfully exist when he’s off the grid. So, he has to find a way to get around this. I won’t give it away, but the method in which he procures a car (without out and out stealing it) is, I think, clever (It’s actually fun for me to try to put myself in the mind of someone so different from me). There are other adjustments he’s got to make, that anyone changing coasts would face. Because L.A. is so spread out, relationships between people are affected. Here in New York, for instance, I can make plans to visit someone who lives five miles away and just use public transportation. Out there, distance is measured in time not miles. Everyone’s life is dictated by traffic. And I think there’s more of a sense of isolation out there, which is both good and bad for someone like Hoyt.
JBV: Leave us with a teaser: What comes next?
CZ: I’m working on a novel that’s a little different for me. One of the main characters has a touch of ESP (a long-time fascination of mine, fanned by working on a book proposal with a woman who has the “gift,” and used it to help the cops solve crimes), but only one person in the world, his best friend, knows he has it. He’s frightened by it, and so he never “uses” it. He hides it from everyone because it sets him apart, making him feel a little bit like a freak. But when the college age daughter of his best friend disappears, he comes to him for help finding her. Reluctantly, he agrees. And therein you have the beginnings of a plot.
