Double-Crossing Delancey (5 page)

“What did you do?” I asked, though I was pretty sure of the answer.

“I tell him, have to speak to gaje. Say Charlie not investing on own anymore.”

“Very good, Charlie. Very, very good.”

I had bought us pretzels from a cart and was explaining to Charlie the difference between Kosher salt and the regular kind when a trio of men rose from a bench and stepped into our path.

“Lydia,” said Joe, with his thousand-watt smile. Rajesh Shah, in turban and short-sleeved shirt, was on his left, and Jeff Yang, bulging shoulders straining his black muscle tee, was on his right. The grim and dark expressions on their faces wouldn’t have powered a nightlight.

“Lydia,” Joe said again, holding on his palm a paper-wrapped rectangle the size of a mah-jongg tile. “Oh shining star of the east, what is this?”

I peered at the label around its middle. “You don’t read Chinese, Joe? It says, ‘Golden Venture Brand Bear Gall, Finest In All China.’ “

“Yes, exquisite one,” Joe agreed. “But what is it?”

“Prune paste, Joe. The stuff they put in Danishes.” I gave him a big smile, too, and this time I was sure I hit a thousand watts.

Charlie, beside me, was also grinning. Shah and Yang frowned yet more deeply. Joe just looked sad.

“Did you try to sell it?” I asked sympathetically.

“Indeed I did. And for my trouble was chased from the back alleys of Chinatown by dangerous men with meat cleavers. The damage to my reputation for veracity in those precincts is incalculable.”

“No kidding? Nice side benefit,” I said.

“Lydia.” Joe shook his head, as though the depth of his disappointment was bottomless. “You have cheated your Joe?”

“Well, I was hoping you were behind Jeff’s offer,” I admitted, “but I was prepared to cheat Mr. Shah if he was all I could get.”

“All the packages are prune paste? There is no bear gall?”

“There isn’t, and there never was.”

“You set us up?”

“I did.”

“Lydia,” Joe repeated, in a voice of deep grief. “You set up your Joe?”

“My Joe, my foot. Show some respect. You were setting me up and I out-set you.”

“I?” Bewildered innocence. “But — “

“Oh, Joe. Indian lychees. You know, you keep saying I have all the instincts. I don’t, but I figured if I thought like you everything would work out.”

“How so, my duplicitous darling?”

“When I turned down your offer, right on that bench over there — which you knew I would — I asked myself, what would Joe do if he were turning down an offer from a middleman he didn’t trust?” Joe wrinkled his nose at “middleman” but didn’t protest. “Joe would try to cut the middleman out,” I said. “So let’s see how easy Joe makes it for me to cut him out. You led me around for awhile the next morning, and finally you let me see you with Mr. Shah.”

“I did notice you following me,” Joe conceded.

“I should hope so. I couldn’t have been more obvious except by waving to you. You really think that’s the best I can do? Joe, you show very little appreciation for my ecological niche.”

“Touche, fair one. And then?”

“Well, you clearly wanted me to go to Mr. Shah and do a deal, leaving you behind. Then you and he would split whatever cash Mr. Shah was able to con us out of, right? Of course there were never any Indian lychees anymore than there was bear gall. But when Charlie and I figured that out, who were we going to complain to? I was the one who’d said importing them was illegal in the first place.”

Joe sighed. “So, knowing the sting was on, you stung first?”

“Wouldn’t you have?”

“I would indeed. And Mr. Yang, so reviled by you when suggested by Charlie as a purchaser for the non-existent bear gall, had in fact been suggested by you to Charlie as a name to bring up at the appropriate moment, in order to draw in Mr. Shah?”

Jeff Yang was glowering at Joe’s side. I said, “Well, Jeff was perfect for the spot. In a million years Jeff would never risk a nickel of his own on a deal like this. If he did a deal, someone would have to be financing it. I hope,” I said to Jeff, “you charged a commission. Something for your trouble.”

Jeff Yang’s frown became fiercer and his hands curled into fists. I could feel Charlie next to me watching him, tensing.

Joe sighed. “We’re all so very, very disappointed.”

“No, you’re not, Joe. You’re impressed.”

“Well,” Joe conceded, “perhaps I am. But now, my unequalled Asian mistress of mystery, the game is over. Yes, you have won, and I will proclaim that truth to all who ask. Now is the time to return your cleverly-gotten gains so that we can go our separate ways, with no hard feelings.”

Charlie’s face fell at this prospect.

“You have to be kidding, Joe,” I said. “When was the last time you gave back money you’d conned somebody out of fair and square?”

“Ah,” Joe said, “but I would not — especially in my amateur days, which status I fear you have not yet left behind — have worked a con on such a one as Mr. Yang.” He indicated Jeff Yang, whose fists were clenched, angry frown fixed in place. To emphasize the danger, Joe stepped away a little, Rajesh Shah with him, leaving Charlie and me marooned with Jeff Yang in the center of the pathway. “I fear I will not be able to restrain the good Mr. Yang from putting into play his threatened destruction of your professional reputation, unless we are all satisfied. Not to mention what look like fairly dire designs on your person.”

This was, finally, too much for Jeff Yang. The frown exploded into a great bellowing laugh.

Whatever else you want to say about Jeff Yang, his laugh has always been infectious. I cracked up too.

So did Charlie.

Jeff, wheezing from laughter, turned to Joe. “I do have designs on Lydia’s person, but not that kind. I’ve spent my whole life trying to make up for the teddy bear kidnapping incident. I’ll do anything she asks. I’m putty in her hands. I’ll even pretend to be a big-time Chinatown gangster if Lydia wants me to.” He pulled a fan of bills from his pocket and waved them in the air. “I charged ten per cent,” he said to me. “If I buy you dinner, will you finally forgive me?”

“I’ll never forgive you,” I said. “But you might as well buy me dinner.” I slipped my arm into his. Just before Jeff, Charlie, and I walked off in the golden evening I spoke once more to Joe, who stood open-mouthed on the path.

“Oh, and thanks for the lychees, Joe. They were China’s finest. From that place on Delancey, right? And do keep in touch with your friend Mr. Shah. When they start growing lychees in India, if they ever do, I’m sure he’ll let you know.”

Mr. Shah blushed and frowned. But Joe, with a wide smile breaking over his face like sun through clouds, swept forward into a low, graceful bow. He came up with a flourish and a grin. I bowed my head to acknowledge the compliment. The ruby in Joe’s tooth flashed in a final ray of light as, with Jeff and Charlie, I turned and walked away.

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