Page 25 of Vera Wong's Unsolicited Advice for Murderers

Vera shoots him such a withering look that he feels his soul shrivel up and hide. “Oliver, I already tell you, the police are useless. Now,” she says, turning back to Julia, “you don’t have to worry, okay? I will do everything.” She squeezes Julia’s hand before letting go. Then she stands, chin raised high and chest expanding. Her aura fills the room. “One of you,” she intones, her glare sweeping across the group, “is Marshall killer.”

White-hot fear surges through Oliver’s entire body.

“What makes you say that?” Sana says. Oliver can’t help butnotice that Sana’s hands are clasped together so tightly that her knuckles are white.

Vera starts walking around the living room. “I have deduce that the killer will come back to my teahouse to look for something.”

It feels as though ants are crawling down Oliver’s back. “What?”

“Doesn’t matter what,” Vera says. “All four of you have never been to my teahouse, but after Marshall die, you all pop up, one by one.” Her sharp gaze stabs into each one of them, and they all shrink back. “Now, we all know that Marshall is not good person. No offense, Julia.”

Julia, who’s been staring slack-jawed, manages a small shrug. Oliver isn’t quite sure what the shrug is meant to convey.

“That means you all probably have reason to kill him. So now, I am going to ask you, where are you on the night that Marshall is murder?”

They’re all gaping at Vera now, torn between shock and anger. “We don’t have to tell her anything,” Riki says. He looks at the others desperately. “We don’t.”

Sana nods slowly. Oliver wills his heart to stop thumping. Wills his brain not to go there. To the night that Marshall died. But, of course, it hurtles there with lightning speed. He sees what he did. The drugs in his hand. The way they rattled. All their lives, Marshall got away with everything. He just wanted to make sure Marshall wouldn’t get away this time. Payback for all the times throughout their lives that Marshall slithered away, snakelike, out of trouble. He almost throws up then and there.

“It was a weird day,” someone says.

Oliver’s head snaps up. It takes a moment for his mind to catch up and register that Julia is speaking. Everyone is staring, wide-eyed, at Julia, sweet, fierce Julia who was always so full of wild ideas about traveling everywhere and taking in as much of the world as she could. And Oliver wants to tell her to stop talking, to protect herself, but as usual, he stays quiet.

“Marshall and I had split up the day before,” Julia continues in a shaky voice. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears. When she finally looks up from her lap, her eyes land immediately on Oliver’s, and it’s as though she’s talking to him alone, just like the old times. “That’s why all of his things were packed up. He’d found an apartment, he said, and it was—it was amicable.” Julia blinks hard, like she’s trying to keep herself from crying.

“Hmm,” Vera says, massaging her chin. “He just walk out?”

Julia nods.

They’re all probably thinking the same thing:What about Emma? How could anyone walk out just like that, leaving behind his wife and kid?

Something must be missing from the picture here. Oliver wants nothing more than to believe Julia, because it’s Julia, for god’s sake, his best friend and biggest heartbreak. But because she was his best friend, because at one point, he was sure that their hearts had beaten as one and their thoughts had flown seamlessly back and forth from one to the other, as though their minds had been connected, because of all this, Oliver knows that Julia is lying about the night that her husband—his twin brother—died. He looks at her, and for the first time he wonders if perhaps he doesn’t know Julia that well after all.

FOURTEEN

VERA

Vera can’t remember the last time she had so much fun. People always say that your wedding day is the happiest day of your life, but honestly, people should try solving murders more often. Okay, well, “solving” is a bit of a stretch since she hasn’t quite yet figured out who the killer is, but she’s close. She can feel it. Generations of Chinese mothers have perfected the art of sniffing out guilt, and Vera can practically see waves of guilt churning out of the young people gathered before her. Each and every single person in this room reeks of it, which is understandable; when Vera was young, she had plenty to be guilty about as well. But, ah, which one is specifically guilty about killing Marshall? Though even as she thinks that, Vera also finds herself wondering what everyone is feeling so much guilt over. Despite their possible involvement, she has to admit that so far, she really likes everybody here. She has brought them together against their will but they’ve all been so agreeable. Well, that’s mostly thanks to hergood social skills; Jinlong used to say that Vera could convince anyone to do anything. But there is something about this group of youngsters that makes Vera feel particularly protective. Still, needs must. She is here to solve a murder, after all, not make friends.

She whips out a slim notebook, one of those cheap lined ones that schoolkids use, and takes her time smoothing it out on the coffee table. “Okay, number one: Julia—split up with Marshall.” Vera nods to herself, and when she looks up, she finds all of them staring at her.

“Did you have that notebook on you this whole time?” Oliver says. There is a bit of awe in his voice.

“Tch,” Vera tuts, “every detective knows that taking notes is very important. Now, what about you? Where are you on the night that Marshall is kill?”

Oliver looks away from her so quickly it’s as though her gaze has just burned him. “Um, I was at my dad’s place. I was dropping off some things.”

Vera narrows her eyes for a second. She knows a lot of things, like, for example, how people often add details as they go along when they lie. Oliver squirms under her gaze, like a trapped insect writhing under a needle. Then she decides she’s had her fun with him and, with a sniff, jots down his answer in her notebook before turning to Riki. “You?”

Riki shakes his head. To the casual observer it might come off as a flippant shake, but Vera is no casual observer. She’s seen this headshake plenty of times before, usually from Tilly when she asks him why he still doesn’t have a girlfriend. It’s a shake to distract and make Vera think she’s asking a silly, irrelevant question. That’s how she knows she’s on the right track. She keeps staring at Riki until his defenses fold underneath the weight of herunwavering gaze and he mumbles, “I was hanging out at my place, playing computer games.”

“What game?”

Riki’s mouth parts like he wasn’t expecting her to ask that, because of course he wasn’t expecting it. “Ah,Warfront Heroes?”

Vera makes a note of that. “Is that online game? LikeClash of Clans?”

“You knowClash of Clans?”

---