Aces and Knaves

including the suit he wore, and distinguished looking. He rose and hugged Pat and then shook my hand when Pat introduced us.

"I am very pleased to meet you, Mr. Patterson," he said, formally, in a low, rumbling voice. "I am glad you came. I wanted to personally thank you for helping Pat to get his feet back on the ground."
    "I didn't do much," I protested. "Many other people helped as well. And if Pat didn't have the drive to improve his life, nothing any of us could have done would have helped."
    "Nevertheless, you and the others in your organization succeeded where I and Pat's parents couldn't."
    I saw pain in his eyes and I suspected it was difficult for him to admit this. I said, "Mr. Wong, Pat is a fine young man and you will be proud of him." I hoped it was true.
    Mr. Wong led us back into the first room where we sat in overstuffed chairs and his assistant brought us tea, which we sipped in small cups. Then he brought us a plate of fortune cookies.
    Mr. Wong smiled and said, "We ordered takeout from a Chinese restaurant and these cookies came with it. Let us see what the fates have in store for us."
    He took one of the cookies, broke it open and extracted the fortune. He read, "'You will never lack for money.' That is reassuring. Although I would rather have serenity. Pat, what is your fortune?"
    Pat read, "Your journey begins with a single step."
    "That is appropriate," Mr. Wong said. "Mr. Patterson?"
    I was hoping for a good stock tip, but what I read was, "A crisis is an opportunity blowing on a dangerous wind."
    Nobody spoke for a few seconds. Then Mr. Wong said, "Perhaps this is a good time to tell you why I really asked you to come here. I wish to speak about Ned Mackay." He paused, took a sip of tea and said, "I believe Pat told you my belief that Mr. Mackay was not a drug dealer, but was killed by some person or persons who also placed cocaine in his rental car."
    I nodded.
    "I wanted to help you because you helped Pat, so I conducted a small investigation," he continued. "The results have confirmed that my suspicions are true."
    I waited for Mr. Wong to say more, but he sipped his tea and looked off into space. "Do you know who killed Ned?" I asked.
    "It is probably not relevant who did the actual killing because they were undoubtedly hired by somebody else. But I think they are members of a local gang."
    I must have looked surprised, because he said, "Oh, yes, there is a gang in Chinatown, just as there are almost everywhere else. They would do something like that, for money."
    "And plant the drugs?"
    "Many gang members are drug dealers. The person who hired them must have paid for the drugs."
    I looked at Pat. He said, "Uncle knows more about this than I do. I wasn't a gang member."
    "He was a good boy," Mr. Wong said.
    "Can you give me the names of the people you talked to?" I asked Mr. Wong.
    He shook his head. "They will not talk to the police. They will not talk to you, either. And it could be bad for both of us if I gave you their names."
    That sounded final. I was preparing my exit words when Mr. Wong spoke again. "I have another piece of information for you. In my inquiries I found an old friend of Mr. Mackay's. Mr. Mackay gave this person a gun some time ago to keep for her own protection. On the night he was murdered, Mr. Mackay came to her house and borrowed the gun. He said he would return it later in the evening."
    "Can you tell me who this person is?" I asked.
    "She wishes to remain anonymous. She cannot contribute anything beyond what I have just told you."
    "Is...this person Chinese?"
    Mr. Wong nodded.
    "But if Ned wasn't involved in drugs, why did he need a gun?"
    "I can't tell you that.”
    Perhaps seeing the look of disappointment on my face, he continued, "I want to reassure you that Mr. Mackay was not a drug dealer. This should be comforting to Mr. Mackay's family and friends. I know it is not a completely satisfactory conclusion to his murder, but I suggest that you do not pursue this further."
    "And not try to find the murderer?"
    "Yes."
    Mr. Wong was right about one thing. It wasn't satisfactory. I tried once more. "Do you have any idea who is behind Ned's murder?"
    Mr. Wong looked at me for a while and then said, slowly, "A fortune cookie can make danger sound romantic, but it isn't."

    Chapter 18 T206 WAGNER
    Palos Verdes is Spanish for green trees. The name is ironic because if you look at pictures taken 80 or 100 years ago the hill is completely barren. There are no trees