It was a long way from the wealth of the west side, but Lock guessed it was tagged as respectable, whatever the hell that meant, these days. He rolled into a neat cul-de-sac of five single-story ranch homes, and parked. He got out and quickly located the house he was looking for. There was a red Chevy pick-up truck parked in the driveway but no sign of a BMW. It looked more like a Toyota kind of place than a BMW but maybe Charles Kim was out cruising. Lock walked to the front door, rang the bell and waited. He saw someone peel back a curtain in the living room, then retreat. Lock stepped to the side of the door. A few seconds later it opened to reveal a young Asian mother in her twenties with a toddler on one hip and a slightly older child clinging to her leg. ‘Sorry to disturb you, ma’am,’ said Lock. ‘I’m looking for Mr Charles Kim.’ She was clearly taken aback. He had a feeling that, if he lived there, he was not the Charles Kim he was looking for. ‘That’s my husband,’ she said.
