Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1 - BY INVISIBLE ROPE
Chapter 2 - THE WARNING
Chapter 3 - BOO FROM GRANNY HOP?
Chapter 4 - HIDDEN TREASURES
Chapter 5 - SHADOW
Chapter 6 - A MATTER OF LIFE AND BREATH
Chapter 7 - SHARP AS A KNIFE
Chapter 8 - THE LAST NUMBER
Chapter 9 - PHONE CALL
Chapter 10 - MURDER STREET
Chapter 11 - THE HIDDEN HOUSE
Chapter 12 - up THE STAIRS
Chapter 13 - DEATH BY BLACK CAR
Chapter 14 - SWFET OLD DAD
Chapter 15 - FORTUME COOKIES
Chapter 16 - THE THIRD NAME
Chapter 17 - OBITUARY
Chapter 18 - FOLLOWED
Chapter 19 - MEGA-SLEAZE
Chapter 20 - “KCHCHAAH”
Chapter 21 - BEHIND ELM STREET
Chapter 22 - PRISONER !
Chapter 23 - THE GiRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Chapter 24 - BRUTE FORCE
Chapter 25 - BACK AGAINST THE WALL
Chapter 26 - THE THREE OF THEM
Chapter 27 - DOUBLE DUTY
What’s in store for Herculeah?
A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD ...
“Read it,” Meat said.
“Give me a minute,” Herculeah said. She took another deep breath. “I feel like somebody’s holding me by the throat.”
Herculeah began to read.I don’t want to die. I can’t die. He’s going to kill me. I know it. He keeps coming to the door. I’ve been a prisoner for days. There’s no window. I don’t know day from night. I shouldn’t have signed. Now there’s no reason not to kill me. He’s back!
“Byars is in top form, providing cliffhanger after cliffhanger, laughter and chills, in this well-crafted thriller fraught with danger and true villains.”
—School Library Journal
BOOKS BY BETSY BYARS
The Herculeah Jones Mysteries:
The Dark Stairs
Tarot Says Beware
Dead Letter
Death’s Door
Disappearing Acts
King of Murder
The Bingo Brown books:
Bingo Brown, Gypsy Lover
Bingo Brown and the Language of Love
Bingo Brown’s Guide to Romance
The Burning Questions of Bingo Brown
Other titles:
After the Goat Man
The Cartoonist
The Computer Nut
Cracker Jackson
The Cybil War
The 18th Emergency
The Glory Girl
The House of Wings
McMummy
The Midnight Fox
The Summer of the Swans
Trouble River
The TV Kid
PUFFIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario,
Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England
Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia
(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)
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Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Registered Offices: Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England
First published in the United States of America by Viking,
a division of Penguin Books USA Inc., 1996
Published by Puffin Books, 1998
This Sleuth edition published by Puffin Books, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group,
2006
Copyright © Betsy Byars, 1996
All rights reserved
THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED THE VIKING EDITION AS FOLLOWS:
Byars, Betsy Cromer.
Dead letter / by Betsy Byars. p. cm.-(A Herculeah Jones mystery)
Summary: Herculeah Jones and her best friend Meat set out to crack the case of
the mysterious note which she finds in the lining of a second-hand coat.
eISBN : 978-1-101-12722-3
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume
any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
http://us.penguingroup.com
1
BY INVISIBLE ROPE
It began on a day too beautiful for murder. The sky was blue. The wind from the west smelled of spring. The sun overhead was the kind drawn by kindergart ners.
“Meat!” Herculeah called.
She crossed the street. Her long hair blew around her face. She laughed and pulled it back into a ponytail with one hand.
“I hope my hair is acting like this because of the wind, not because I’m in danger.”
Herculeah’s hair always expanded when she was in danger, the way an animal puffs out its fur to make it look threatening.
“I wouldn’t bet on it. Anyway, you’re in danger most of the time,” Meat said.
“Not most of the time,” Herculeah said, still smiling. “How do you like it?”
“What?”
“The coat! My coat!”
She twirled around so Meat could admire it from all angles.
“I probably shouldn’t say this, but I thought you were a Russian when you came around the corner,” he said.
“Thanks,” Herculeah said.
She felt pleased, although she suspected Meat had not intended his remark as a compliment.
Herculeah glanced up at Meat’s house. “Can I come inside for a minute?” she asked. “I have to tell you about how I got this coat. It’s one of the most mysterious things that has ever happened to me.”
“I guess so.”
Herculeah passed him on the steps up to his house—she was always quicker than he was—and stood waiting at the door. “This is a very special coat, Meat.”
“I guess you could call it ...” he paused slightly before adding politely, “special.”
Meat opened the door, and Herculeah swirled past him and into the living room.
“Meat, here’s what happened. I went into Hidden Treasures because my dad gave me some money, and I wanted to spend it. I tried on some earrings. I tried on a hat with a feather. I wanted to try on some gloves, but of course they were too little.”
She paused, glancing down at her hands and then up at Meat. When she spoke again, her tone of voice was more serious.
“And then, Meat, I felt myself being drawn toward the back of the store. It was like an invisible rope. I was being pulled. I had to go. I couldn’t help myself.”
Meat waited, caught up in the drama.
“I found myself at a rack of clothes, and my hand reached out for this coat, and I don’t even need a coat. I don’t even want a coat. But when I touched this coat ...” She paused to wrap her arms across it. “When I touched this coat, Meat, my hair began to frizzle. You know, like it does when I’m in danger.”
“So, of course, you tried the thing on?”
“Yes.”
“If you thought there was danger involved, why would you try it on? That was a warning, Herculeah. You sho
uld have left the store right then.”
Meat believed in the power of Herculeah’s hair. He had seen it work.
“And it fit,” she said, interrupting. “It’s as if the coat were made for me. Look.”
She walked around the room.
“It does make you look like a Russian,” Meat said, repeating the uncompliment. “Except they don’t wear bright colors. I still don’t understand why you would try on a coat that could mean danger.”
“Oh, you worry too much. Anyway, how could a coat be dangerous?”
“I don’t know.”
Meat sighed.
“But I’m sure we’re going to find out.”
2
THE WARNING
“Anyway,” Meat said, “I’ve got other things on my mind. I can’t get excited about a coat.”
Herculeah looked at him. She noticed his expression. She came over at once and sat beside him on the sofa. She turned her face toward his.
“You listened about my coat, and now it’s my turn to listen. You have my complete attention,” she said. “What is on your mind?”
Meat wished now that she was still admiring her coat. Her gray eyes were so clear he almost expected to see his reflection in them. And what he had on his mind was that he had gone into the kitchen to get a snack and discovered a large number of cans of something called Slim-Fast on the counter. He real, ized that his mother was starting him on yet another unpleasant diet. He did not want to tell that to Herculeah.
He stalled for time by saying, “Oh, I don’t want to bore you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Yes, I would.”
“You wouldn‘t!”
“How do you know? You don’t know what’s on my mind.”
Actually he was boring himself. The conversation was going downhill from an already low beginning. There was silence. Meat stared glumly at his knees. “If you must know ...” he began slowly, hoping for inspiration.
“I must.”
Herculeah crossed her legs and drew the coat tight around them. She leaned toward Meat as if to prove her interest was genuine.
Before he could speak, she looked up in surprise. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“That rustling noise.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“It came from the lining of this coat. I was doing this.” She repeated the movement. “Hear that? There’s something in the lining.”
Herculeah reached down and rubbed her hands over the coat until she located the sound. “There. Hear that?”
“You know what this reminds me of?” Meat said, glad to be on a safe topic. “Something my mom told me. When my mom was a girl, she felt something she thought was a fifty-cent piece in the lining of her coat and she ripped the lining open—she needed bus fare—and it was a round weight. Apparently they sew them into linings to make the coats hang straight. The bus driver wouldn’t take it.”
“Well, this is no weight. It’s a crumpled piece of paper—maybe a letter.”
She put her hand in the pocket. “Oh, there’s a hole in the lining of this pocket. That’s strange. I wonder if I can reach it with my fingers if I ...”
She slipped off the coat and laid it across her lap. “I don’t want to make the hole any bigger. I’m going to take good care of this coat.”
She slipped her fingers into the hole. With her other hand she guided the piece of paper toward the pocket. Her fingers scissored around it.
“I’ve got it. I’ve got it!”
She pulled out the paper and ironed it smooth with her hands.
“I don’t know why you’re so excited,” Meat said. “It’s just a piece of paper, probably a receipt.”
“I don’t either. I can’t explain it. It’s just that I feel a kinship for whoever owned this coat. There’s something that calls me.”
Herculeah looked at the paper. She gave a sigh of disappointment.
“What is it?”
“Oh, it’s just a page from an address book. There’s some scribbling on it. The writing’s so little and cramped I can hardly make it out.”
“It’s probably a grocery list. A pound of pork chops, a pound of potatoes, a chocolate cake ...” Meat realized he was making a wishful shopping list for his own supper.
“I need more light.”
Meat was glad to be of help. He clicked on the lamp behind the sofa.
Herculeah read the words to herself and drew in a breath. Her face grew pale.
She didn’t answer. She felt a chill. She leaned her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath to calm herself.
“What is it? Don’t do this to me. You know I can’t stand not knowing what’s wrong.”
Herculeah did not answer for a moment. She couldn’t. She felt as if a hand had gripped her throat. The sensation was so real that she lifted her own hand to her neck.
“There is something wrong, isn’t there?” Meat persisted. “At least tell me that much. You can still nod your head, can’t you?”
Without opening her eyes, her hand still circling her throat, Herculeah gave a faint nod.
“Very wrong, medium wrong, or—” He paused and added hopefully, “just some little thing?”
Herculeah opened her eyes then and looked at him.
“It’s very wrong, isn’t it?” he said, seeing the dread in her gray eyes.
“Dead wrong,” she said.
3
BOO FROM GRANNY HOP?
“Read it,” Meat said.
“Give me a minute,” Herculeah said. She took another deep breath. “I feel like somebody’s holding me by the throat and I can’t get air down to where I need it.”
“Well, it’s catching. I feel bad, too. Read it. Or at least tell me what it says.”
When she didn’t answer, Meat held out his hand. “Then give me the paper and let me read the note.”
“It’s not a note. It’s like a letter, the most important letter anyone could ever write.”
“May I see it?” Watching her, he added through his teeth, “Please.”
She handed over the sheet of paper.
Meat squinted at it. “I don’t see how you could make it out. I can’t.”
He held it under the lamp.
“I cannot make out one single word.”
“I can read them all,” she said.
She held out her hand. It was trembling. He put the sheet of paper in it. She began to read.
I don’t want to die. I can’t die. He’s going to kill me. I know it. He keeps coming to the door. I’ve been a prisoner for days. There’s no window. I don’t know day from night. I shouldn’t have signed. Now there’s no reason not to kill me. He’s back! Look inside
Herculeah said, “I can hardly stand to read it. It’s as if I wrote it. Look, Meat, I’m actually trembling.”
“I am, too,” he admitted. He was not sure whether he was trembling because of the words or the scary way that Herculeah read them. “Let me see that again.”
She handed him the paper, and he peered at the small, cramped writing as if trying to make out the words. “Even though I know what it says, I can’t read it. Maybe I need glasses. I always wondered how I would look in glasses.”
Herculeah did not answer.
Meat glanced at the note again. “It’s not signed,” he said.
“No.”
“I wonder who she was.”
“So do I.”
“We’ll probably never know.”
“Yes, we will.”
“How?”
“Meat, I have the feeling that this letter was written to me.”
“Herculeah, that’s stupid. How could that be? The thing was probably written months ago, years ago. It could have been written before you were even born.”
“Yes, but when she died—if she did die—she left this note hoping that someone would find it. The fact that I am the person who found it,
” Herculeah went on, choosing her words carefully, “means that the note was written to whoever would find it—to me.”
“I’m not sure I follow that.”
“It makes perfect sense to me.”
“Anyway, listen to this. Maybe it’s some sort of joke—like a Chinese fortune cookie that says, ‘I’m being held prisoner in a fortune cookie factory.’”
“This is no joke, or I wouldn’t be so scared.”
“I agree it’s scary.” Meat decided to go on being reasonable. “Look, the woman who wrote it is probably walking around now doing perfectly normal things—trying on dresses at Belks, shopping at Bi-Lo, getting her hair done at Head Hunters.” Meat stopped, unable to think of anything else women did on a regular basis.
“If she is alive,” Herculeah said, “then why didn’t she get this note out of the lining of her coat? And look at this pocket. She deliberately tore the lining and pushed the note through. The coat is absolutely perfect except for that one hole.”
She showed it to him. “The woman took something sharp, like a key, and she pushed the letter into the lining....” Herculeah trailed off thoughtfully.
“So maybe she is dead, Herculeah. What’s the point of worrying about it now? You can’t bring her back to life. Anyway, your father’s a police detective. Why don’t you just give the note to him and forget about it?”
“It’s too late to get uninvolved now. I feel a kinship with this woman. ”
“Just because you’re the same size?”
“It’s much, much more than that. When I first tried on this coat, it felt right. Have you ever felt that some piece of clothing was meant for you?”
Meat, who as a boy had worn Huskies and Chub bies, and now wore clothes from the large-sized men’s department, dumbly shook his head. He shook off the unpleasant picture so he could continue.
“Anyway, maybe she’s crazy, Herculeah, did you ever think of that? Crazy people are always thinking people are going to kill them. It’s one of the main symptoms of craziness. You don’t know anything about this woman.”
“Right,” Herculeah continued, “I know nothing about this woman except that she was my size and that she valued life. I value life too, Meat. You can just hear how much she wants to live.”