Read The Chick and the Dead for Free Online

hated to burst her bubble. But not nearly as much as I hated the thought of sleeping in the street.
    "I'll help on one condition," I told Didi. "Gus may have mentioned it. About paying me for my services? If you want me to solve your murder—"
    "Hold it right there! You've got it all wrong." Didi shook her head, and I could tell that she was trying to figure out the best way to explain things. She finally gave up and waved me closer. "Come on," she said, and she turned and walked away from the street and closer to the stone wall that marked the border of the cemetery. "I've got something to show you."
    I followed along. All the way to a spot in the farthest corner. There was a tree a few feet away from where we finally stopped, and the sun didn't penetrate the sprinkling of leaves just opening on its branches. There where the northern section of the wall met with the eastern edge of the cemetery, the air was chilly and the shadows were deep. Moss blanketed one side of the tree, and it was obvious the grounds crew hadn't made their way over there for spring cleanup yet. The gravestones I stepped around were overgrown with grass and weeds.
    "You're buried here?" I don't know why the thought bothered me, but it did. Maybe it was because Didi's cheery smile and vibrant personality didn't exactly jibe with this sad and forgotten corner of Garden View.
    Maybe because I was way shallower than even I liked to admit.
    My shoulders slumped. "You're telling me you weren't wealthy. You can't afford to pay me to find out who killed you."
    Didi gave me a look, and in the dim light, I couldn't tell if it was one of understanding or disgust. I decided on understanding, simply because it was easier to deal with.
    "It's not that I don't want to help you go to the light or wherever it is you're headed," I told her before she could contradict me and I was forced to deal with her disgust. "It's just that I've got some serious money problems, and my hours have been cut here at the cemetery thanks to that Merilee What's-Her-Name, and even if I wanted to, I won't be able to concentrate on finding out who murdered you if I've got to spend the next six weeks wearing an apron and asking folks if they want ketchup with their fries."
    Didi made a face, and I realized she wasn't feeling disgust or understanding. Just confusion. "You're jumping way ahead of yourself, kid," she said. "Back up and take a deep breath. Who said anything about finding out who murdered me?"
    "You mean—?" Now I was confused, too. "Are you telling me—?" Didi pointed toward the grave at our feet. "Why don't you have a look?" she said. I did just that.
    Like I said, the light was dim and the graves were overgrown. I got down on my knees on the damp turf and made an effort to brush away the grass and weeds that nearly covered the stone. That didn't work, and I grabbed a handful of grass and clover. I pulled, and when that one clump gave way, I tossed it aside and grabbed another.
    Little by little, I cleared the stone.
    Deborah.
    It was one of the names I hadn't considered, and at the same time I could have kicked myself for not thinking of it; I reminded myself that if I had, I would still be combing through the hundreds of Deborahs who were probably buried at Garden View.
    Deborah Bow…
    I grabbed another clump of grass.
    … m … a …
    "Bowman?" Still on my knees, I looked up at Didi, more confused than ever. "Bowman like in Merilee Bowman?"
    Didi nodded. "You got that right. She's my sister."
    I got to my feet and wiped my hands against my khakis. "Merilee Bowman, the famous author, is your sister. And you were murdered by—?"
    As if the motion could clear both our thoughts, Didi shook her head. "I told you, this has nothing to do with murder. It's all about the book."
    " So Far the Dawn ." What other book could we possibly be talking about? It seemed even the dead were caught up in the frenzy that had infected Ella and the rest of the known world. "So your sister wrote