The Big Dirt Nap

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To all the booksellers who welcomed me and made a newcomer feel like an old pro, especially Barbara Peters, Mary Alice Gorman, Maggie Topkis, Roberta Rubin, Mitch Kaplan, Dianne Defonce, and Sharon Roth. To the dedicated librarians—one of whom was kind enough to say that I must have been a librarian in a previous life—especially to my friends in Stamford, Fairfield, New Canaan, Darien, Westport, Newington, Forestville, Easton, and Milford, Connecticut, and to my friends in Princeton and Hunterdon, New Jersey, and in Cary, North Carolina.

Special thanks to Suzanne Wickham, Kim Hicks, Hector De-Jean, Monica Katz, and Talia Ross for looking after me.

For Bruce and Paula,

who continue to inspire me

Dirt Nap – n. a state of permanent rest,

death, as in taking the big dirt nap.

One

Maybe I'd have had a drink with the guy if I had known the next time I saw him he'd be sprawled out in a Dumpster enclosure, with a greasy newspaper tented over his face. Then again, maybe not.

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