“I think we should offer to help her clean everything up.” It takes a moment for Riki to realize what he’s just said. Help clean everything up? All he wants to do is run away and never come back. But, selfishly, he also knows that cleaning everything well would hopefully make the place less suspicious to the police. Vera did say she wouldn’t contact the police, but it’s best to be extra safe. Sweep away any evidence that might remain here.
Sana’s face lights up and she says, “Ah! What a great idea!” And before Riki knows what’s happening, Sana grabs his sleeve and pulls him back inside. Every part of him is wailing, Nooo! But there is no timeline in this reality where Riki would pull his arm away from a pretty girl, even if said pretty girl is leading him back inside a claustrophobic shop filled with ghastly debris.
“Vera,” Sana calls out, “don’t worry.” Inside, she lets go of Riki’s arm and goes directly to Vera, putting her hands on the old woman’s shoulders. “I know this is terrible,” Sana says gently, “but don’t worry, Vera, we’re going to fix up your shop for you, okay? All of us here are going to help you with it.” She glances up at the others, and for a second, Sana looks almost as fierce as Vera. Riki finds himself nodding almost automatically. Julia and Oliver nod as well, and Emma says, “Emma helps too.”
“Oh,” Vera chokes out. “You don’t have to. I hate to be bother.” To Riki’s surprise, Vera’s cheeks are red. In fact, even the tips of her ears are red. The sight of it makes him feel suddenly protective of her. She might be formidable in some—well, okay, most—situations, but at the end of the day, Vera is a frail old lady who doesn’t deserve to have her shop smashed up.
“We want to do it,” he says with a firmness that takes even himself aback.
Vera moans. “I don’t know, I think maybe is better if I stay with my son. I don’t feel safe here, you know? What if whoever break in come back to finish off the job? Oh, but I also don’t want to be a bother to Tilly. He is so busy . . .” She trails off meaningfully, and for a second, they’re all quiet as frantic eye contact is made among all of them, silent messages flying back and forth.
Finally, with a sigh, Julia says, “You can stay with us.”
“What?” they all say.
“Oh, I can’t bother you like that—” Vera sputters.
But Julia points at the broken lock on Vera’s rickety front door. “At least until we get your lock fixed. It won’t take any time at all. And, Vera, I really think you need to pause on this investigation. I don’t want you to endanger yourself. Come stay with me and Emma for a couple days. Keep us company.” She smiles, looking a bit uncertain herself.
Emma, sensing her cue, nods and says solemnly, “You come sleep with Emma.”
Vera hesitates, looking very torn. Then she releases a long breath and says, “If you insisting, then okay.”
Riki stares in amazement as Julia nods and smiles. He never would’ve seen this offer coming from Julia. When he first met her, she came across as weak-willed and very lost, but now here she is, opening up her home to an almost complete stranger. And Sana, insisting that they clean up Vera’s shop. He feels his affection and respect for them growing, and surely that is a mistake, a bad omen, when the thing that has brought them all together is an unsolved murder.
TWENTY-TWO
VERA
Well, isn’t that a turnup for the books? Somehow, Vera has gone from a murder to a break-in and now to the house of the aforementioned murder victim. And his lovely wife and daughter, of course.
Vera is never one to be presumptuous or to trouble others, and so she is determined to be the very picture of courtesy, the ideal houseguest. This is why, when she gets to Julia’s house, she marches right in, stopping at the hallway to take off her shoes. Emma walks in behind her, and Vera says, “Take off your shoes, Emma, we are not animals.”
Emma does so, and after a moment’s pause, so does Julia, who is wearing a little smile as she follows Emma and Vera inside, lugging Vera’s giant suitcase. Once in the living room, Vera sighs loudly before plopping down on the sofa with more drama than she intended. Though of course, she always intends maximum drama, all the time, so is more drama actually possible?
“Shall I put your things in the bedroom?” Julia says, heaving as she tugs the suitcase behind her. “Gosh, Vera, what do you have in here?”
“When you get to my age, you will need so many things just to keep everything where they belong,” Vera says cryptically, with a vague gesture at her own body.
Emma’s eyes widen. “Why? What might fall out?” She turns to Julia, wide-eyed. “What might fall out, Mommy?”
“Oh, this and that,” Vera says. “After you breastfeed, no bra will be able to control all the flopping.”
“Honey, why don’t you go play in your new tent?” Julia says quickly.
“Come,” Emma says, pulling Vera’s hand. “I show you my new tent.”
Vera can’t help smiling as she follows the little girl down the hall. Is there anything sweeter than having your hand held firmly by tiny fingers? Behind her, Julia pants as she yanks the suitcase down the hallway. Vera considers telling her that it’s a fancy new design with hidden wheels that pop out with the push of a button, but Julia seems so happy to be helpful. Anyway, it’s probably empowering to be able to lug such a huge and heavy burden without any help.
Emma’s room is small and humble, but very neat. In one corner is an impressively decked-out tent, complete with soft toys and cushions. Emma crawls in and beckons Vera to come in after her, but Vera says, “At my age, even with all the extreme stretching I do, if I kneel down, there is chance I don’t get back up.”
She lowers herself carefully and sits down on the edge of Emma’s bed. Emma’s head pops out from the tent flaps.
“You see dead body?” Emma says.
Vera, who has watched Sixth Sense, knows enough to keep an open mind. “Do you mean did I see dead body last week, or do you mean am I seeing dead body right now?”
“Both.”
“I see a dead body last week, yes. But there are no dead bodies right now.”
“What dead body look like?”
Vera mulls this over carefully. She believes that honesty is the best policy, but when the truth involves telling a two-year-old about her father’s dead body, maybe a little fudging is in order. “Hmm, it looks like normal body, but dead.”
Emma seems satisfied by this answer, and her head retreats back inside the tent and she starts singing to herself. It’s a tuneless song sung in her raspy voice. Shame, but it seems that Emma does not have a future as a singer. Which is fine, as being a singer is definitely not one of Vera’s preapproved careers. In Vera’s opinion, Emma is better suited to be an architect. Vera sits there for a while, half listening to the very not-gifted voice, and looking around the room to get a better idea of Emma’s life.