Free Double-Crossing Delancey by S. J. Rozan Page B

those days, I was seeing an Indian girl,” Joe had said, making it sound like sometime last century. “A Punjabi princess, a sultry beauty with a ruby in her forehead. She gave me one that matched it, as a love token. When the embers of our burning affair had faded and cooled — “
     
    “You mean, when you’d scammed her out of all you could get?”
     
    “ — I had Dr. Painless insert my beloved’s gift in my tooth, where it would ever, in my lonely moments, remind me of her.”
     
    I hadn’t fully believed either the ruby or the story, and I thought Joe Delancey’s idea of what to do with a love token was positively perverse. But though I’m a licensed private investigator I’m also a well-brought-up Chinese girl, and I hadn’t known the Punjabi princess. I’d just looked at my watch and had some place to be.
     
    Now, on this June morning, Joe waved a waiter over and ordered tea and Danishes. “Tea in a pot,” he commanded, “for the Empress scorns your pinched and miserly cups.” He turned to me with a thousand-watt smile. “Anything your heart desires, oh beauteous one, within the limited powers of this miserable establishment, I will provide. Your money is no good with Joe. A small price to pay for the pleasure of your company.”
     
    I wasn’t surprised that Joe was buying. That was part of his system, he’d once confided cheerfully. Always pay for the small things. You get a great reputation as a generous guy, cheap.
     
    In Joe’s business that was a good investment.
     
    “Joe,” I began when the tea had come, along with six different Danishes, in case I had trouble deciding which kind I wanted, “Joe, I heard about the lighters.”
     
    “Ah,” Joe said, nodding. “You must mean Mr. Yee. An unfortunate misunderstanding, but now made whole, I believe.”
     
    “You believe no such thing. The guy’s stuck with a garage full of garbage and no way to make up his investment. You’ve got to lay off the new immigrants, Joe.”
     
    “Lydia. My sweet. Where you see new immigrants, I see walking goldmines. And remember, darling, never was honest man unhorsed by me.”
     
    “Aha. So you’re known around here as ‘Double-crossing Delancey’ for no reason.”
     
    “Sticks and stones,” he sighed.
     
    “Oh, Joe. These people are desperate. It’s not fair for you to take advantage of them.”
     
    “Taking advantage of people is inherently unfair,” he reflected, lifting a prune Danish from the pile. “And you can be sure each recently-come representative of the huddled masses with whom I have dealings believes himself, at first, to be taking advantage of me.”
     
    “Still,” I tried again. “You took twelve hundred dollars from this guy Yee. It’s a lot of money.”
     
    “Fifteen hundred, with the fluid and the wicks,” Joe corrected me. “He stands to make quite a lot more than that, with the right marketing plan.”
     
    “Marketing plan? Joe, the guy’s a waiter!”
     
    “And looking to better himself. An ambition to be commended.”
     
    I sighed. “Come on, Joe. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”
     
    Joe bit into his pastry. “My ancestors would spin in their graves.  Surely you, a daughter of a culture famous for venerating the honorable ancestors, can understand that. This street, you know, is named for my family.” I suspected the reverse was closer to the truth, but held my tongue. “It is peopled, now as ever, with newly-minted Americans seeking opportunity. For a Delancey, they are gift-wrapped presents, Christmas trinkets needing only to be opened.”
     
    “You’re a rat, Joe.”
     
    “Not so. In fact, I detect in you a deep appreciation of my subtle art.”
     
    “You’re reading me wrong.”
     
    “If so, why are you smiling? My glossy-haired beauty, I make my living reading people. I’m rarely wrong. It’s you who’re in the wrong profession. You have a great future elsewhere.”
     
    “You mean, doing the kind of work