Dead Letter Read Online Free Page B

between the zones.”
    â€œWhat are the zones? I don’t believe you mentioned my dad’s zones. ”
    â€œThe upper zone shows imagination, spirit, and intellect—that’s here.” He pointed at the top half of some t’s and l ’s. “The middle zone here—little a, e— that’s the sphere of social life. The lower zone—the bottom of y’s and g‘s —is the sphere of the unconscious urges, biological needs.”
    Meat didn’t know handwriting told about those. He was definitely going to print from now on.
    â€œThere’s a good balance between these zones,” Mr. Gamballi said. “This writer can handle her own thoughts and feelings. She was as sane as you or I.”
    â€œI knew it,” Herculeah said.
    Mr. Gamballi leaned forward. “You be careful, young lady. Something terrible may have happened, and you don’t want to be a part of it.”
    There was silence.
    Meat added sincerely, “I don’t want to be part of it either.”

7
    SHARP AS A KNIFE
    Herculeah took out her granny glasses to think. She had first tried these glasses on at Hidden Treasures months ago, and the world had immediately fogged out. She found that she could think in a way she couldn’t when she was looking directly at things.
    She desperately needed to think now.
    It was warm in her bedroom, but Herculeah lay with the coat draped over her lap. Somehow she needed to be close to the person who had worn it.
    In the corner of her bedroom, Tarot fluttered his wings and moved sideways across his perch. Tarot had been Madame Rosa’s parrot, but he had come to live with Herculeah after Madame Rosa’s death.
    â€œI can’t pay attention to you now, Tarot. I’m concentrating.”
    â€œBeware, beware,” Tarot called. This was the only word he knew when Herculeah got him, but now he had learned to say, “Oh, Mom,” in Herculeah’s voice.
    â€œHush up,” Herculeah said.
    Tarot bobbed his head from side to side. “Oh, Mom.”
    â€œI am not your mom and you know it. I’m trying to think.”
    She hooked the slim wire curves behind her ears and peered through the thick glass. While she was waiting for her mind to start working, she idly slipped one hand down into the pocket of the coat. It was the pocket with the hole in it.
    Herculeah paused.
    The woman couldn’t have made that hole with her fingers. This coat was really put together. She would have had to use something sharp, something ...
    Herculeah remembered a thought she had had at Meat’s house. She had said, “The woman took something sharp, like a key.”
    She drew in her breath. A key.
    She took off her glasses, flung them down on the bedspread, and flipped the coat over. She ran her hands around the lining. She turned the coat over and felt the other side.
    She ran her hand around the hem. “Yes!” There was an object there, caught in the fold of the hem.
    She paused. “Don’t let it be a weight,” she said. “Don’t let it be a stupid weight.”
    With her excitement mounting, she worked the object up to the pocket and pushed it through the hole. She scissored her fingers around it and drew it out.
    It was a key.
    Herculeah made a triumphant fist around it. “A key, Tarot, a key!” She opened her hand and looked closely at the key on her palm.
    â€œI think it’s a house key. It has to be!”
    She was exhilarated.
    â€œA house key! And, Tarot, a key means an answer. And maybe, maybe this key will be to the house where she was held prisoner!”
    She heard the front door open. Her mother called from the front hall, “Herculeah, I’m home.”
    â€œOh, Mom,” Tarot said.
    â€œThat was Tarot, not me. I’m up here—in bed,” Herculeah called back. “There’s half a pizza in the fridge.”
    â€œI already ate.”
    Herculeah heard her mother