Seven
VERA
Vera is having so much fun she half wonders if she shouldn’t write a book about it. A self-help book titled The Ancient Chinese Secret to Long Life: Solving Murders . Is that too long for a title? She knows, as everyone does, that titles should be snappy and memorable. But she does like the word “ancient” in there because it’s rather impressive and mysterious. Maybe The Ancient Chinese Secret to Solving Murders . Ooooh, yes, that is a good one. As she sits on the bus on the way back home, Vera composes the book in her head.
Chapter One: Call Your Mother.
Every mother holds the answer to all of your life’s problems. If you do not have a mother, you may call me. My number is—
Hmm. Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest of ideas to share her personal number with the millions of strangers who would no doubt be buying her book.
If you do not have a mother, you may slip and slide into my DMs.
Yes. Yes! Not only does that show how approachable Vera is, it reminds everyone that she is very much up to date with young people these days. She is basically an honorary Gen Z. This whole writing-a-book thing is so easy, no wonder Sana’s mother writes four of the things every year. Vera is sure she can bang out at least six books a year if she wanted to.
By the time she alights from the bus back in Chinatown, she has composed two chapters in her mind (Chapter Two: Finding a Murder to Solve). She hums to herself as she unlocks the door to the teahouse and walks in. She checks the floor to make sure there are no dead bodies on it. One can never be sure. She spends some time updating her notebook, adding Millie, TJ, and Aimes as possible persons of interest. Vera likes the term “person of interest.” It’s more vague than “suspects,” so if it turns out she was wrong to suspect them, she can just say, “I never suspected them, I was just interested in them.”
The problem is, she likes these three youngsters. Just like the brood of lost chicks she gathered last year, she doesn’t want any of them to be guilty of Xander’s death. And they are so clearly guilty of something. Vera sniffs. Why don’t young people learn to lie better? She rearranges her facial expression into one of innocent surprise. “Huh? Xander dead? I have nothing to do with it.” See? That’s how you lie.
“Talking to yourself is a sign of senility, Vera,” someone calls out from the doorway.
Vera turns around, her face hot. Of course she recognizes that voice without even looking. “Winifred.” The name comes out practically in a hiss. “What brings you here?” Vera says, switching to Chinese.
“Oh, it’s a rare day I’m not so busy with customers, so I thought I’d drop by and keep you company. It can be so lonely for a lone, elderly woman with a forgotten tea shop,” Winifred says, slinking inside the tea shop. She plops a bag on the table. “I brought some of my bestselling breads. Brew some tea, Vera.”
The audacity of her! Winifred marching in like she owns the place and ordering Vera to brew tea? “I do not need company. I’m hardly alone. And, yes, even though I am your elder, which means you should speak to me with more respect, I am hardly elderly.”
“Oh, save it, Vera. I’ve heard you refer to yourself as a helpless old woman countless times.”
“That’s to remind young people to respect me.”
“Funny that,” Winifred sniffs. “I never have to remind them to respect me. I guess I just command it naturally.”
“The only thing you command naturally is body odor,” Vera mutters, but for some reason, she does as Winifred says and gets the kettle going.
Winifred settles on a chair and begins taking out the pastries. “I am considering changing the bakery name,” she says.
“Oh? People finally caught wind of your ruse, then? Realized it’s not a French bakery?”
“No. It’s just…Korean bakeries are the latest rage, haven’t you heard? I see it all over the TikTok. It’s K-pop this, K-drama that, everything K.”
“You’re not Korean, Winifred.”
“I am on my grandmother’s side.” Winifred says something in Korean.
It takes an awful lot of willpower for Vera to refrain from asking Winifred what she just said, but that’s exactly what Winifred wants, isn’t it? So Vera looks on blandly, until Winifred finally says, “It means ‘good afternoon’ in Korean.”
“Impressive,” Vera says in a monotone voice, measuring out ingredients for the tea. It had taken her a moment to decide what to brew. Part of her was very tempted to brew something disgusting for Winifred, but she decided against it since she would likely have to drink it herself, and anyway, there isn’t anything disgusting in Vera’s tea shop, of course not. So ginseng it is. As Vera brews the tea, Winifred points to each pastry.
“Here we have kkwabaegi.”
“Looks like a mahua to me.”
Winifred narrows her eyes. “Well, yes, to the untrained eye, it is very similar to a Chinese twisted doughnut, but the Korean version is coated in sugar.”
“So is mahua. Sometimes.”
With a sniff, Winifred points to the next pastry. “This one is gyeran-ppang. Egg bread.”
Vera looks at the oblong-shaped dough with a whole egg in the center of it and tries very, very hard to think of a Chinese equivalent, but her traitorous brain refuses to come up with anything. Gah! She pours out the tea slowly, still thinking hard.
“Oh dear, is it the dementia?” Winifred says. “That often gets worse when one has no friends or family.”
“I have plenty of friends and family,” Vera snaps. “And my mind is perfectly fine, thank you very much. I drink gingko tea every day.” She serves Winifred her tea and sits down across from her.
“Have the gyeran-ppang,” Winifred says, sliding it across the table to Vera.
With a small huff, Vera unwraps it and takes a bite. The sweet, fragrant dough coupled with savory egg makes for a comforting combination. It really is very good. Vera chews slowly, annoyed at how delicious it is. She follows the bite with a sip of her tea.
Winifred watches her with hawk eyes. “Well?”
Vera shrugs. “It’s not bad.”
Winifred grins. “I knew you’d be a fan. Now try this one. Honey butter toast. I think it will bring the Gen Z into both our shops. It’s the kind of thing you have over a nice cup of tea.”
“I don’t need your help to bring the Gen Z into my tea shop,” Vera says.
Winifred says nothing, merely gives a pointed look around Vera’s empty shop.
“Today is a bit slower because it’s a weekday.”
“Are you going to wait around until the fad from that dead guy fades before you actively do something to promote your tea shop?” Winifred says.
The nerve of her, coming into Vera’s shop and spouting such rubbish. Vera’s temper stirs. “I’ll have you know I am very busy investigating another case,” she snaps.
“Yes, I thought so. That’s why I’m really here,” Winifred says as she takes another sip of ginseng tea.
Vera can practically feel her blood pressure bubbling up. “I thought you’re here because you wanted to increase the flow of customers to our shops.”
Winifred waves a hand flippantly. “Oh, Vera. You should know better than anyone what a snooper looks like when they are snooping.”
For a moment, Vera considers the wisdom of slapping the table and going, “How dare you insinuate that I am a snooper!” but, oh, who’s she kidding? Winifred, being another Chinese mother, isn’t going to fall for Vera’s usual tactics. Instead, she tries a different tack. “Winifred, I know you are very bored and very lonely, but you should look for your own cases.”
“Unfortunately, Vera, I do not have the good fortune of having young men dropping dead in my shop.”
“Well, my dear Winifred, maybe that means the universe does not think you are capable of handling such a thing.”
“Or maybe, dear Vera, it means that you are attracting bad luck. Nothing but death around you.”
“Choi, choi!” Vera raps her knuckles on the wooden table to dispel Winifred’s petty ill-wishing.
“I don’t mean to wish you bad luck, Vera. I am merely here to help dispel some of the bad luck you’ve been having. Share your burden with me. What are friends for?”
“I have plenty of friends to share my burdens with.”
Winifred raises her eyebrows. “Those little youngsters barely out of their diapers are not your friends; they are your adopted children. Do you even have friends your own age?”
“Yes,” Vera snaps.
“Who?”
“There’s Sister Zhao, who owns the vegetable shop down the street, and Brother Hua, who—”
“Owns the dried fruit shop, yes. These are neighbors, Vera. I know them too. But do you actually spend time with them?” Winifred adds, “Aside from when you’re buying fruits and vegetables from them, I mean.”
Vera grows quiet. “Well, there was Alex.”
“Ah yes, Alex counts as a friend, I’ll give you that. But he can’t really spend time at your tea shop anymore, can he? Not since he was arrested for murdering his own son.”
“I visit him once a month,” Vera mutters. She didn’t think it possible, since her life has so much love and laughter in it nowadays, but now that Winifred mentioned it, Vera realizes that she indeed does not have any friends her own age. She has plenty of family, of people she considers her children or nephews or nieces or grandchildren, but peers? Goodness, what a sobering thought.
“It’s quite all right, Vera. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Winifred says smugly. “You may be my friend.”
Vera glowers at her, then sniffs. “I don’t need your help. But since you are obviously so bored, I’ll tell you a little bit about the young man I’m looking into.” As she takes her phone out of her pocket, it strikes Vera that, dare she say it, she’s having a little bit of fun. To her surprise, a large part of her wants to share bits and pieces about Xander’s case with Winifred and discuss possibilities and gasp in horror at the twists and turns that will no doubt crop up. It’s what Julia and Sana would call “girl talk.” So she opens up the Instagram and shows Winifred Xander’s profile. “This poor boy drowned at the Mile Rock Beach. They found him a few days ago.”
“Oh dear, such a young man.” Winifred takes out a pair of glasses and squints at the phone screen. “Very handsome. You know, he resembles my Robert when we were young. Oh, quite the lady-killer, he was.”
Vera rolls her eyes. She knew Robert, and he looked nothing like Xander Lin, but that’s Winifred for you. She just can’t help herself.
“He looks like he had a roaring life,” Winifred says. “All these fancy parties. Oh, look, a private jet! Did you know, back in Taiwan, this boy was so crazy about me, but I turned him down. Later he became a millionaire, and he has his own private jet.”
Vera sighs. “Yes, I’m sure that happened.”
“Oh my, is that his yacht?” Winifred brings the phone closer to her face, until it is mere inches away from her eyes. “What did he do, this Xander? Was he in tech? I bet he was in tech.”
“That’s the thing. No one seems to know what he did for a living. In fact, no one seems to know much about him. Not even his girlfriend.”
“How is that possible? You should see my daughter when she started dating. All day she was glued to her phone, texting every minute of every day. If she dated anyone new, she’d look them up online until she knew everything about them.”
Vera frowns. “Yes, that was exactly what I thought.” Actually, what she had really thought was Huh. And then she just didn’t think much of it. Aiya. How could she have been so careless? She makes a mental note to add that to Aimes’s list of suspicious behavior.
“What about his family?”
Vera shakes her head. “Haven’t managed to find them yet.”
“A boy as wealthy as him,” Winifred muses, “doesn’t die in silence. There must be many friends and family wondering where he’s gone. They would’ve called the police by now to report him missing.”
“Well, that’s the other thing. The police can’t seem to identify him.”
Winifred stares at her. “What do you mean? It says right here, he is Xander Lin.”
“Yes…except he’s not. His friend calls him Thomas. The police call him John Doe.”
“Why John Doe?” Winifred says. “What a strange name.”
Vera gives a knowing smile. “It’s a name they give to people whose identities they don’t know.”
“So, Xander Lin is a fake name. I knew it. It sounds very fake. My, my,” Winifred says as she taps on more of Xander’s posts. “An unknown person with a fake name. What was he hiding? Probably evading taxes, would be my guess.” Then she gasps.
“What?” Vera says.
Winifred doesn’t answer, merely brings the phone even closer to her face, her nose practically touching the screen.
“What is it?” Vera says again, louder this time.
“Look at this post! That is Qiang Wen from the dim sum place two blocks away,” Winifred says excitedly, shoving the phone in Vera’s face.
Vera grabs the phone and squints at it. Winifred has clicked on a post of Xander sitting at a table eating a zongji. In the background is an old Asian man carrying a bamboo steamer. The caption reads, “After a week of nonstop partying, there is nothing like the taste of home. Love you, Gramps. #family #grandfather #dimsum.” She zooms in on the old man’s face. The picture turns grainier as she zooms, but against all odds, Winifred is right, damn it. The old man does look familiar. But can it really be Qiang Wen?
“It’s him, I’m telling you,” Winifred insists. “So, this is his grandson? Oh my. Do you think he’s heard? I’m guessing not, since the police haven’t identified this young man. If they knew he’s Qiang Wen’s grandson, they wouldn’t name him John Doe. Right? Vera? Hey, Ver-aah, what are you thinking?”
Vera is shaking her head slowly. “Qiang Wen’s daughter couldn’t have been married long. I know because he used to do tai chi with Jinlong. They often talked to each other about their families, and Qiang Wen always told him how worried he was about his daughter. So, how can he have a grandson in his twenties?”
Winifred’s brow furrows, then suddenly clears as her eyes grow wide. “Oh my,” she says with a delighted, horrified gasp. “An illicit affair? A child out of wedlock?”
“Tch,” Vera says. “Nobody likes a gossip, Winifred.”
“I’m not gossiping, I’m investigating.”
Well, she’s got Vera there.
“Are you going to confront Qiang Wen now?” Winifred says, her eyes bright with excitement.
“Of course not. This requires a gentle touch. If he doesn’t know about Xander’s death, I’m not about to break his heart without at least cooking him a good meal.”
“Oh yes, very considerate of you.”
Vera smiles. Already her mind is racing ahead. Because though she’s just chastised Winifred about gossiping, she is in fact very curious about Qiang Wen’s secret grandson. And she has a feeling that getting the truth out of him is going to require some finesse, some subtlety. Luckily for this case, Vera is nothing if not subtle.