Dead Letter Read Online Free

notice?”
    Meat straightened with a sudden idea. “Maybe someone’s following the coat.”
    â€œThe coat?” Herculeah looked down at it.
    â€œWell, it’s distinctive enough.”
    â€œWhy would anybody follow a coat?”
    â€œNobody would. Unless—” Meat gasped.
    â€œWhat, Meat? Unless what?”
    â€œUnless it was the murderer.”
    â€œOh, Meat.”
    â€œHe thought he’d gotten rid of the woman and the coat, see, and suddenly, there’s the coat.”
    â€œOh, Meat.”
    â€œAnd if it was the murderer—I’m not saying it was,” Meat added quickly, “but if it was the murderer, he knows about you.”
    â€œYes.”
    Meat swallowed before adding the worst part.
    â€œAnd me.”

6
    A MATTER OF LIFE AND BREATH
    The sign in front of the house read:
    GREGORY GAMBALLI
HANDWRITING CONSULTANT
    Herculeah had passed this house many times on her way to school, but she had never noticed the sign. It was half-hidden by grass, as if the man didn’t particularly want it to be noticed.
    â€œGamballi,” Herculeah repeated.
    â€œSo I forgot the i on the end,” Meat said. “Big deal.”
    Herculeah went up to the front door. Meat followed. Herculeah rang the bell and glanced at Meat, crossing her fingers in hope of an answer.
    â€œIt’s nice to see an old-fashioned doorbell,” Meat said, “the kind you could stick a pin in on Halloween.” Meat sighed. He didn’t want to be here. The man might remember him and ask if he had heard from his dad, and Meat would have to answer no. Just thinking about it made him feel worse. He said, “Oh, he’s not home. Let’s go.”
    â€œHe’s in there. I hear him.”
    â€œYou hear the radio. A lot of people leave the radio on so that burglars will think somebody’s home. In motels, people turn on the TV when they go out, rather than when they want to watch something. Ask your mom if you don’t believe me.”
    An elderly man in a sweater frowned at them from the side window.
    â€œSee?” Herculeah said to Meat. Then she called, “Hello!” She gave him a wave.
    â€œHe doesn’t look very glad to see us.”
    The man disappeared. There was another long delay and Meat said, “He just turned off the radio. That’s an encouraging sign.”
    The door opened slightly. “Yes?”
    â€œWe’re here about a handwriting consultation,” Herculeah said, pleased at how formal she sounded.
    Meat decided to avoid unpleasant questions. He said quickly, “I was here before, remember? With a letter from my dad? You said he was outgoing and avoided routine and had a sense of humor?”
    â€œI charge ten dollars,” Mr. Gamballi said, still not opening the door wide enough for them to enter.
    Herculeah swirled to face Meat. “He charges! You didn’t say he charged!”
    â€œI thought you’d know that.”
    Herculeah said, “I’ve got ... let’s see”—she felt in her jeans pocket—“six dollars. How about you?”
    Meat checked. “Two.”
    â€œAny change?”
    â€œNo. That’s it.”
    Herculeah turned back to Mr. Gamballi.
    â€œWe only have eight dollars.” She held it out like an offering. “But it’s a small piece of paper and I am really desperate. Or—if you’ll trust me—I’ll bring the other two dollars tomorrow. Meat will tell you I’m trustworthy, won’t you, Meat.”
    â€œShe’s trustworthy.”
    Mr. Gamballi hesitated.
    â€œThis really is important,” Meat said.
    â€œActually, Mr. Gamballi, it’s a matter of life or death,” Herculeah said, “and I’m not using that phrase lightly.”
    â€œOh, come in, come in.”
    He took the money and pointed to the dining room.
    â€œBut don’t you tell anyone I did this for eight dollars or that’s what