Vera Wong's Guide to Snooping (On a Dead Man) (Vera Wong, #2)

by Jesse Q. Sutanto

she wakes up at four thirty in the morning and jettisons out of bed like an army general with a new troop of terrified soldiers to scream at. And today, like every day, she puts on her gear, protecting every inch of her skin from the sun, and bustles out of the house to go on her extremely aggressive morning walk.

After a freezing, character-building shower and a simple breakfast, Vera marches to the kitchen, where she gets to work. She’s planned the menu with the meticulous care of Ralph Fiennes’s character from that strange movie The Menu, and she’s rather excited to get going, because tonight’s meal will include mud-baked chicken.

Winifred raises her eyebrows. “Oh? I have twin grandbabies. I barely have time to run my extremely successful patisserie—” “Chinese bakery,” Vera mutters. The mention of twin grandbabies stings. To make matters worse, against all rules of nature, Winifred’s grandkids are actually cute. Considering their genes, Vera thinks sulkily, those two babies should have been born with fangs and a forked tongue, but no, they are so adorable they belong in the pages of parenting magazines. How unfair life can be sometimes. “My extremely successful French bakery,” Winifred continues.

She stirs the bucket of clay mix so aggressively that it squelches, and droplets of sticky clay splat onto Winifred’s trousers. “Aiya!” Winifred cries. “Look what you did! These are pure cotton, you know. My daughter-in-law bought them for me from that fancy organic shop down at Union Square. They cost three hundred dollars.” “For those pajama pants? What is this European nonsense?”

“They look like pajama pants to me. In fact, I have a pair just like them from Costco. Are you sure your daughter-in-law didn’t get them from Costco?” Winifred huffs. “My Kelly is a good girl, very filial. She likes to spoil me.

Tilly and Selena will settle nicely into their new place, and before she knows it, there will be a proposal, then a wedding, and then…twin grandbabies. Nay, triplets! When Vera closes her eyes, she can just see it—Vera sitting on an overstuffed sofa with one arm around Emma and the other arm around three fat babies. She is manifesting like the TikTok told her to. She can practically smell their milky baby smell. Tonight is going to go perfectly. She can tell, it will be the beginning of an amazing chapter in her life.

Vera should be content. And she is, really. But she’s also kind of—dare she say it—bored. Sometimes, all an old lady wants is a murder to solve. Is that too much to ask for?

What it did do was give her a knockoff, kind of like ordering something from Wish.

Vera scrambles to follow all of this. Ugh, if there is one thing she hates more than anything, it’s feeling small and helpless. She only likes acting like a helpless little old lady; she doesn’t actually like being one, for goodness’ sake.

Vera, take note, because of what happened, scammers will know you are vulnerable. Expect more scam calls to your number. They’ll come in various forms.

She is about to wail about how awful all of this sounds when it hits her that, actually, it isn’t. Because, what could be better than picking up the phone and telling off a few scammers? Oho, she’ll give them a piece of her mind. First, she will tell them that their ancestors are very disappointed in them. Then she will launch into a tirade about young people nowadays. Finally, she will ask if they have eaten, and if not, she will impart some recipe and tell them to go cook themselves a nice meal and ponder their life choices. This is her chance to make a real difference in the world.

Millie feels an inexplicable surge of envy toward this Sana, a complete stranger she’s never met, and yet already, she knows Sana must be everything she’s not. Sana is ultra-confident and has never known what it is like to hate herself with so much passion that she wants to peel her skin off. She also feels jealous because Sana has an aunt like Vera. Millie has the feeling that if she had an aunt like Vera, she wouldn’t be in the mess she’s currently in.

“Millie,” Vera says, nodding with approval. “Where are you from, Millie?” “Yunnan,” Millie says. “Oh, Yunnan!” Vera switches to Mandarin. “My dear, I’m from China too. I had some relatives in Yunnan, we used to visit in the springtime. The fruits there are beautiful. The soil is so rich there. I can still smell the fragrance of the mushrooms we went picking this one morning…” Millie is swept away by Vera’s words. She knows exactly what Vera is talking about.

“What brings you here, child?” “Work,” Millie says, and she’s so glad to be speaking Mandarin once again. It’s been so long since she’s been able to speak her mother tongue.

She can’t possibly tell Vera the truth, so she’s just going to have to make it up as she goes along.

But what is life without a little exaggeration now and again? Or, as Vera likes to call it, a little razzle-dazzle.

Oh, I also wanted to ask if you’re still up for feeding Chichi this weekend? I could just ask Oliver—” “Aiya, of course I am still up for that. Mothers do everything for their children, especially Chinese mothers.” If Vera were completely and ruthlessly honest with herself, she might have admitted to feeling a frisson of excitement at this point, because being alone in Tilly and Selena’s house means snooping will be achieved.

At her age, one does not have the time to look for trouble; rather, one goes on the hunt for it.

Her entire life feels like this, a murky mess of memories she can only remember through the eye of her phone camera. Is that sad, or is that just the new normal for everybody?

I am Chinese mother, all I do is create conflict. You think CIA know anything about destabilizing? They know nothing compare to me!”

She leans back, satisfied. Is there anything quite as invigorating as threatening people? When Vera was young, she used to read women’s magazines, all of which swore up and down that there is nothing more invigorating than exercise and/or sexual activity. But they really missed out on storming into someone else’s space and brandishing a good, solid threat in their faces. Vera makes a mental note to write a letter to the editors of women’s magazines, telling them to suggest making threats as a good pastime for young women.

Remember, Vera reminds herself, your ass is bad. Very bad. And that is a good thing.

This sequel was inspired by actual events. My parents and I were in Singapore when my mom fell for a scam caller. I rushed her to the police station, where we told a kindly officer what had happened and filed a report. While filing the report, the officer shared with us stories about scammers and how they were often victims of human trafficking themselves, duped out of their home countries and forced to work as scammers by these traffickers.

I could not stop thinking about it. I started to research the subject, and the more I did, the more horrific these stories became.