The Art of Deception

A Matter of Trust

In all his visits to Mama Lu, Boldt could remember seeing her out of that rattan throne only twice, surprised once again by how short she was. Not small, he thought, but short.

“I appreciate this, Great Lady,” he said. He and Babcock, Mama Lu and her two trained polar bears in the black garb stood behind the butcher’s meat counter where a crippled stairway led down into the glare of overhead bare bulbs. The Korean grocery smelled of fresh ginger and exotic spices. Korean talk radio played from a nasal-sounding AM radio behind the cash register at the other end of the room.

“This been family secret many generations, Mr. Both.”

“We understand.”

“You, I know, I trust. Yes. But woman? Mama Lu no know.”

“You’ve nothing to worry about,” Babcock said.

“I give you my word,” Boldt said, knowing the commitment that statement represented.

“Police no know this. Nobody know.”

Boldt said, “Understood.”

“Only because this friend of yours.”

“Matthews,” Boldt said.

“I do this only for you. For her. You good man, Mr. Both.

You clear Billy Chen’s good name.”

He didn’t want to have a twenty-minute discussion about it, but he knew her ways. “We’ll eat a meal together,” he said.

“We’ll celebrate.”

She grinned across lipstick-smeared teeth. “But later.”

She knew him better than he thought.

“Yes, later.”

“Show them,” she said to the larger of her bodyguards. To Boldt she said, “Saved my life three times, this secret. Maybe save your friend, too.”

Boldt nodded, a frog caught in his throat. “Thank you,” he said. He ducked his head, and the three descended the cramped stairs to the storage room below.

“This is old,” Babcock informed him excitedly, well before the bodyguard pulled on the gray boards of built-in pantry shelves, opening and revealing a narrow passageway into darkness. “This is it.”

Boldt nodded to the big man and led the way through to the damp smells and pitch-dark. “Let’s hope so,” he heard himself say.