Double-Crossing Delancey Read Online Free Page A

outside the realm of possibility.
     
    I went on, “What we can really bring to the deal is a distribution network. Well,” I reflected, “that’s probably a little fancy. What I mean is, I assume the cost of bringing these lychees in would be high, and so the sale price would have to be high for us to make a profit.”
     
    Rajesh Shah nodded, so I went on.
     
    “You couldn’t sell them on the street in Chinatown if they’re expensive. People down here don’t have that kind of money. But in the last few days — since Charlie first proposed this lychee idea, and before I knew about the Indian ones — I’ve done some looking around. There are a number of stores in fancy neighborhoods that are interested. Because I’m Chinese they’ll assume the fruit we bring them is from China. I’m sure you and Joe had already figured out a way to fake the paperwork.”
     
    Shah had the grace to blush. Then he smiled. “Of course.”
     
    “Well, then,” I said. “What do you think?”
     
    “Let me be sure I am understanding you,” Shah said. “What you are proposing is that your associate — “ a nod in Charlie’s direction “ — invest his modest sum and receive a return commensurate with that investment. You yourself would act as, I believe the expression is, ‘front woman?’ “
     
    “I guess it is.”
     
    “And you would be receiving, in effect, a salary for this service.”
     
    “Sounds right.”
     
    “And Mr. Delancey would have no part in any of this.”
     
    “That’s not only right, it’s a condition.”
    Rajesh Shah nodded a few times, his gaze on his desk blotter as though he was working something out. “I think,” he said finally, “that this could be a successful proposition. Mr. Charlie,” he asked, “how much of an investment are you prepared to make?”
     
    Since the talk of money had begun, Charlie had looked increasingly fidgety and anxious. This could have been fatigue from the strain of focussing on all this English; it turned out, though, to be something else.
     
    Something much worse.
    “Money,” he mumbled, in an almost-inaudible, un-Charlie-like way. “Really, don’t have money.”
     
    Shah looked at me. I looked at Charlie. “The money you saved,” I said. “You have money put away for college. We talked about using some of that.”
     
    Charlie’s face was that of a puppy that hadn’t meant to get into the garbage and was very very sorry. I wondered in passing why all the men I knew thought dog-like looks would melt my heart. His beseeching eyes on mine, Charlie said, “You remember jackass brother-in-law?”
     
    I nodded.
     
    “Brother-in-law takes money for next great idea.”
     
    “Charlie. You let you brother-in-law have your money?”
     
    Charlie’s chin jutted forward. “In family account.”
     
    This was a very Chinese method of keeping money: in a joint account that could be accessed by a number of different family members. I wasn’t surprised to hear that Charlie’s brother-in-law was able to help himself. But: “He had the nerve? To take the joint money? After the disaster with the lighters?”
     
    Rajesh Shah looked confused. Joe must not have shared the story of his triumphant swindle of jackass brother-in-law. But that wasn’t my problem at the moment.
     
    Charlie was nodding. “Brother-in-law have big money-making idea. Need cash, give to cousin.”
     
    “And what did your cousin do with it?”
     
    “Cousin not mine. Cousin his,” Charlie rushed to assure me. This was a distinction Charlie had learned in America. In a Chinese family the difference is non-existent: relations are relations, at whatever distance.
     
    “His cousin,” I said, my tone reflecting growing impatience. “What did his cousin do with your money?”
     
    “Comes from China,” he said. “Comes from China, brings…”
     
    Charlie petered out. I finally had to demand, “Brings what?” Brought what, Lydia, I silently corrected myself. Or,