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“You’ve been snooping around, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he growls. “You need to stop.”
This is actually a scenario that Vera has fantasized about, strangely enough. In her fantasies, a generic bad guy would storm into her teahouse, maybe to rob her or something or other, and through her wit and charm and motherly kindness, she would help him see the error of his ways. She would then brew some tea for him, and they would talk about where he went wrong in his life and how he can fix it, and over the years, he would come to see her as his mom and attribute every good thing in his life to Vera.
But real life is nothing like fantasy, and Vera finds that there is no wit or charm or motherly advice in her right now. All there is, is sharp animal terror. Her entire body shakes with it. “Okay,” she says. So simply, just like that, she’s rolled over and given in.
“And nothing happened here, you understand? We know where you live. We know where that cute little kid and the single mom live. Don’t fuck with us.” And with that, he storms out.
Vera sags against the wall, her breath coming out in a ragged whoosh. Dear Goddess of Mercy, did that really just happen? It was much less exciting and much more terrifying than she had expected. And now that the immediate shock and adrenaline rush is dying down, she can feel the painful cut on her forehead, and my goodness, it hurts.
“Aiya, Vera, are you okay?” someone cries.
“Winifred,” Vera says, still breathing hard.
“Ah! Your head! Come, sit down. Aiya.” Winifred helps Vera onto a chair. “Let me take a look.”
Vera winces as Winifred moves her hand aside.
“That will need stitches. I’ll call Tilly. Or maybe you need an ambulance?”
“Too expensive,” Vera says.
Winifred nods and calls Tilly, filling him in on what’s happened. All Vera can think isThat man knows where Emma lives.
“Tilly will be here right away,” Winifred says. “What happened?”
“Someone threw a brick into my window. You didn’t hear it?”
Winifred shakes her head, and Vera is glad that Winifred is hard of hearing. Hopefully it means that Winifred didn’t see the man come into Vera’s teahouse. He knows where Emma lives. Vera is going to have to step very, very carefully.
“Does this have to do with the death you’re investigating?” Winifred says.
“Maybe,” Vera mutters.
“Vera, you need to stop snooping. You’re in danger! Oh, you poor thing.”
Winifred heats up some water, pours it into a bowl, and dips a clean napkin into it. “Let me clean you up a little, you look like a scene from a horror movie.”
Vera’s thoughts are a mess as Winifred dabs at her face. And soaring above the messy swirl is the awful thought that keeps pulsing at her:They know where Emma lives.The thought overwhelms her and she grabs her phone. She dials Julia’s number.
“Hey, Vera, what’s up?”
“Julia, you listen to me. You take Emma with you and get out of home. Go stay with Oliver.”
“Uh. What’s going on?”
“Just listen to me.”
In the background, Vera can hear Emma’s voice going, “Is that Grandma?” Vera takes in a shuddery breath. Oh, Emma.
“Are you caught up in something bad?” Julia says in a low voice. “Have you told Selena? Does this have something to do with that dead guy you’re looking into?”
“Julia,” Vera snaps. “Just listen to me and go, okay?”
Julia sighs. “Okay. For how long though?”
“I don’t know. But I will fix somehow.”
Winifred is staring at her with wide eyes as she hangs up the phone. “What did she say to you?” she says in Mandarin.