Page 82 of Four Aunties and a Wedding

“Eh? Who is your cousin?” Ma says.

“Tch, how slow can you be?” Fourth Aunt snaps. “It’s Ah Guan, innit?”

“I think you can drop the British accent now,” I plead. Though why the hell I care about the British accents now, I can’t say.

“Ah Guan your grandson?!” Second Aunt says. “Waduh. This too much.” She plunges into a Tai Chi position, muttering quietly to herself and shaking her head.

I take a deep breath, but I swear no air comes in. Because, oh god, the family of the man I killed is right in front of me, andSecond Aunt’s right. Itistoo much. Ever since the incident, I’ve largely managed to move on by reminding myself that he was a “bad guy.” I’d mused to Ma once about his family, on a horrible occasion when I suddenly wondered if perhaps he might have kids or something, but Ma had just waved me away and said, “No, such bad boy like that, how can have family?” And I’d wanted to believe her so badly I quickly accepted it, no questions asked.

But how wrong we were. Because, well, here they are. His family. And they’re so much like ours it’s not even funny.

“Ama—” Staphanie says, reaching out to her, but Ama pushes her hand away and continues weeping. “Look what you’ve done,” Staphanie hisses at us. “This is going to kill her. The only thing that’s kept her going ever since Ah Guan’s death was the thought of taking you down.”

My head swims. “Why didn’t you just report us to the police? And how did you know we were involved in the first place?” There are so many questions I can barely get them straight in my mind.

“We always knew Ah Guan had loose mafia ties, and when he ended up dead, we went to the island and asked around. We talked to the sheriff, to the staff at the hotel—”

“You talked to my staff?” Nathan asks. “But we have a policy to not discuss the incident with outsiders—”

“I got myself hired as a dishwasher,” Staphanie says flatly. “I made friends with the other staff members and gossiped alotduring our breaks.”

“You were employed at my hotel?” Nathan says, his mouth dropping open. I can’t blame him; we’re all gaping at Staphanie by then.

“Yes. I thought that was the best way to gain information. And I did. I gathered a lot of intel. Like how there was a groupof really suspicious Asian women who were carting around a huge cooler the day that Ah Guan was found dead.”

I swear my entire face is on fire. Even Big Aunt is wringing her hands guiltily.

“Did they mention how hot one of the suspicious Asian women was?” Fourth Aunt says.

“No.”

Ma snorts. Fourth Aunt purses her lips, shrugs, and continues studying her nails.

“And a couple of them told me how there was a theft that same day. The tea ceremony gifts had been stolen. The moment I found out about that, I knew Ah Guan had something to do with it.”

“Ah Guan was good boy; he never have something to do with that!” Ama snaps.

Staphanie sighs. “Ama, I think we both know he probably had something to do with it, and that was why he was killed.” She turns to look me straight in the eye. “Because he stole from the mafia.”

Time stops. Planets stop revolving, just for a second.

There’s a bark of laughter from Fourth Aunt, and Ma goes, “Eh? Apa?” Even Second Aunt pauses in the middle of her Tai Chi stance.

“Ah Guan has always had a—a rebellious streak,” Staphanie says. “He was always on one get-rich-quick scheme or another. I figured he stole from the mafia and was killed because of it. I mean, even the way you killed him—stuffing him in a cooler, literally fridging him, is—” Her voice wobbles as her eyes fill with tears. “It’s classic mafia execution.”

It takes a moment to find my voice. “We’re not—”

“Yes, classic mafia execution. It’s what we’ll do to you next,if you don’t play by our rules,” Fourth Aunt says, running a sharp fingernail across her neck.

“Stop that, Fourth Aunt.” I glare at Fourth Aunt until she rolls her eyes and shrugs, then I turn back to Staphanie, trying to sort out my confused thoughts. “Wait, but if you’re so sure we had him murdered, why didn’t you just report us to the police?”

“We tried!” Staphanie cries, and now the tears finally come, making her blink rapidly. “Of course we tried. We went to the sheriff—um, McConnaughey?”

“Sheriff McConnell,” I mutter, thinking of the inept man in charge of the whole island.

“Right. We went to him with all of the evidence I’d managed to gather, and he laughed us out of the office. He told me I had to stop digging, otherwise he’d make life a living hell for me. He was going to report me for all sorts of made-up shit like, uh, snooping? I don’t even know. Basically, he shut us down. He’s deep in your pockets, isn’t he?” she says bitterly.

I frown at Nathan. I can tell we’re both wondering the same thing. Why would Sheriff McConnell be on our side? Then it hits me: he’s not. He’s on his own side, and he’s filed the report that solved the case of Ah Guan’s death. If new evidence surfaces that refutes his report, he’ll lose his job and cushy pension.

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