Page 22

A bald-faced lie, but Qiang Wen doesn’t trust his own voice to say anything, so he merely nods and watches as they all bite into his dumplings. There are murmurs of appreciation, and again that feeling of needing a good cry comes over him. These young people remind him of Xander. Qiang Wen sees in his mind’s eye the look of delight on Xander’s face when he first bit into a pork-and- chive dumpling. He had spoken so enthusiastically, with such sincerity. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He was such a charismatickid. And Qiang Wen is a foolish and lonely old man. His daughter and grandkids are on the East Coast and unlikely to ever move back, and all that’s left for Qiang Wen to do is tick along until, one day, he stops ticking.
“These are really good. Thank you, Uncle,” Millie says to him.
“Yeah, these are delicious,” Aimes says, popping a whole dumpling into her mouth.
Qiang Wen nods, still unable to speak for the lump in his throat.
“Not to be rude,” Robin says in that monotone way that teens have perfected over centuries, “but why are we here again? I mean, food’s great, thanks, but seriously, who are you? Who are all of you? My dad won’t tell me shi—”
“Language,” TJ jumps in. He gives everyone an apologetic grimace. “Uh, sorry about her.”
“She speak her mind; I think that is good thing,” Vera says. She nods at Robin. “I tell you who I am. I am Vera Wong, famous tea connoisseur and intermediate murder investigator.”
They all stare at Vera. Qiang Wen’s mind moves like sludge as he tries to work out what she’s just said. Even after decades of living in America, Qiang Wen’s grasp on the English language, though on the whole pretty solid, isn’t good enough to capture the finer details. Did she really just say “intermediate murder investigator,” or was that some subtle English joke that Qiang Wen can never seem to understand? Qiang Wen raises his hand slowly, like a hesitant schoolboy.
“Yes, Qiang Wen?”
“What do you mean, ‘intermediate murder investigator’?”
“Good question!” Vera beams at him. “Well, I am not quite aprofessional because no one has pay me to investigate murder yet. I’m sure they will start paying me soon, but now I will do the investigation to expose myself.”
They all stare at her some more, the awkwardness growing in the room until it’s almost a solid presence. Then TJ clears his throat and says, “Uh, Vera, did you mean you’re doing it for exposure?”
“Yes, that is what I say. You young people need to listen better. Anyway, I am not amateur investigator, because I already solve a big murder case last year. Even the police cannot figure it out. They say, ‘Vera, only you can solve this because you are a Chinese mother, you are very good at sniffing out wrongdoing.’ ”
“The police said that to you?” Robin says in a tone of voice that clearly sounds unconvinced.
“More or less,” Vera says, completely unbothered by Robin. “Anyway, so now we are investigating new murder.”
“We?” Aimes says.
“Well, mostly me. Because you all still beginner. Also, you all might be suspect, I don’t know. Last year I make mistake and think this person is suspect, that person is suspect; now I learn from experience. I don’t anyhow accuse you all of being suspect. Even though you might be.” She gives them all a stern look.
The back of Qiang Wen’s neck crawls as his skin breaks out in a cold sweat. He’s somewhat dazed by what Vera has said, and he’s only about seventy percent sure that Vera isn’t actually able to read people’s minds as easily as one would a glowing neon sign. His sign would read,I AM GUILTY. He shrinks lower onto his seat and wonders if Vera is in good enough shape to pounce on him if he were to make a break for it.
“Wha—” TJ sputters. “When you said to bring my daughterand come by for a home-cooked meal, this wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“Well, is dinner and a show,” Vera says. “You know, is good to underpromise and overdeliver. This is business advice for you, TJ.”
“Cool,” Robin says. “So, whose murder are we investigating?”
Vera’s smile widens into a shark’s grin. “I like you. You can be my apprentice. And now, let us begin.”
Nine
MILLIE
What has she done? What has she gotten herself into? This is completely the opposite of what she’d been expecting when she told Vera about Thomas. Although, well, come to think of it, what had Millie expected when she told Vera?
Well, that was the thing. She’d been expecting much of the same that she’d gotten used to over the past few years, and that is a big load of nothing. Of course that was what Millie had expected when she spilled her guts out to a random old woman over tea. Any reasonable person would think the same. What could this nice old lady do, right? Right?
And yet, here she is in a house full of strangers and delicious food, and she wants to keep eating, but also her stomach is clenched so hard with anxiety that eating is out of the question, which is a shame because the food is so, so good, and—and—
Oh god, Millie is spiraling. She takes a deep breath and returns to her mantra: I am Millie. I am okay. I have done nothing wrong.
“You okay?” the pretty blond girl next to her says quietly.
Millie nods. She’s about to ask the blond girl how she knew Thomas when Vera claps for attention. Which she gets, obviously. Millie has the feeling that Vera is used to getting attention whenever she wants to.