Page 18 of Vera Wong's Guide to Snooping (on a Dead Man)

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.”

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