Free The Chick and the Dead by Casey Daniels

They barely spoke to me. And poor little Judy, they treated her like she was dirty."
    It took me a moment to figure out that I'd heard Didi use the expression before. Getting into trouble was obviously mid-twentieth century code for pregnant . "Nobody cares about stuff like that anymore," I told Didi. "When Merilee connects with the only daughter of the only daughter of her only sister, I bet she'll get all warm and fuzzy. And when she finally kicks the bucket. Harmony will inherit a bundle." When Didi turned to me, she rolled her eyes. "Harmony won't inherit one red cent. Merilee's will leaves everything to the Grand Order of the Grand Daughters of the Grand Army of the Republic. No one can make her change it."
    I wasn't buying it. After all, I had been raised in the upper middle class. Growing up, I'd heard plenty of stories about money, and often they were based on someone being pissed at someone else who didn't leave the first someone a big enough piece of the pie. "Harmony could contest the will."
    "She could," Didi admitted. "If she was smart enough. Which she'll never be if she never goes to a good school. And if she can find a lawyer who will believe her when she tells him that she's not only the great-niece of a famous author, but the only surviving relative, too. Which she won't, because let's face it, Harmony doesn't exactly look like the type who has tens of millions of dollars coming to her."
    "Tens of millions?" I gulped down my surprise. "You mean we're talking that kind of money?" Didi pouted in an oh-poor-me sort of way that made me think she'd used this tactic before. "Don't worry," she said, tears suddenly watering down her voice. "You'll get some of that money. It's all you care about, anyway."
    I bet the bowed pink lips and the tearful blue eyes worked plenty good on suckers who were susceptible to that sort of thing. Just like I bet that in Didi's lifetime, she'd found plenty of suckers to use them on.
    Bad news for her, I was not one of them. Besides, she got me all wrong. I had to defend my reputation and my motives.
    I jumped to my feet. "That is so not true," I said. "It's not the money I'm thinking about. At least not in the way you think I'm thinking about it. Sure, I need money. And sure, I'd love to be paid for working on your case. But what I was thinking is that if there's a lot of money involved—"
    "There is." She nodded.
    "And if Merilee was underhanded enough to steal your manuscript—" Didi's top lip quivered. "She did. She waited until I was dead, then published it under her name."
    "Then if she's got that much at stake—"
    "She does."
    "Will you let me get a word in edgewise here?"
    Unfortunately, I didn't have a chance to speak that edgewise word. No sooner had I screeched the question than I realized that my office door was open. Sometime while I was talking to Didi, Ella had walked in. By the time I realized it, I was already emphasizing my point by stabbing one finger into what must have looked to her like an empty corner of my office.
    I scrambled to come up with an explanation that sounded even half plausible. I shouldn't have wasted my brain cells.
    Because Ella didn't even notice.
    How could she when her eyes were glowing, her cheeks were crimson, and her breaths were coming so fast, I thought she'd stroke out right there on my office floor?
    "Ella?" Instinctively I moved forward, one hand out to catch her when she collapsed. Which I was pretty sure she was about to do.
    Only she didn't.
    Instead, Ella grabbed my outstretched hand with both of hers. "The limo just pulled in," she said, and she jumped up and down. Like a kid on Christmas morning. "Come on, Pepper. You want to be part of this historic event, don't you?"
    She didn't give me the opportunity to respond. Out in the hallway, the sounds of excited voices rose to fever pitch. Then they stopped cold. Silence descended. Both Ella and I knew what it meant. The door of the administration building had opened.
    Merilee Bowman