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Back A Penny for Your Thoughts Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. A PENNY
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgments
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Thirty-Four
  39. Thirty-Five
  40. Thirty-Six
  41. Thirty-Seven
  42. Thirty-Eight
  43. Thirty-Nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-One
  46. Forty-Two
  47. Forty-Three
  48. Forty-Four
  49. Forty-Five
  50. Forty-Six
  51. Forty-Seven
  52. Forty-Eight
  53. Forty-Nine
  54. Fifty
  55. Fifty-One
  56. Fifty-Two
  57. Fifty-Three
  58. Fifty-Four
  59. A Sample Chapter of Don’t Take Any Wooden Nickels
  60. About the Author
  61. Other Books by Mindy Starns Clark
  62. About the Publisher

I did as I said, releasing him from my grip and sliding back against the wall. He scampered across the wooden platform to the safety of the tree trunk, which he held onto like a shield. But he didn’t climb back down; he merely stared at me around the tree with wide, terrified eyes.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“You’re an investigator?” he finally whispered. “You mean, like a spy?”

“Yes,” I said. “I wasn’t going to hurt you. I just didn’t want you to scream.”

It seemed to take a few minutes for him to digest this information, but when he did, he seemed to relax somewhat. He reached out for his camera and busied himself by examining it, making sure it hadn’t gotten damaged in our scuffle.

“A spy?” he asked finally. “Like James Bond?”

I shrugged.

“Not exactly,” I replied. “More like the Hardy Boys.” He looked at me blankly so I added, “Sherlock Holmes?”

That one seemed to ring a bell. He scooted closer toward me.

“Are you trying to find out who’s been doing all those things to my mom?” he asked.

I nodded, not bothering to add that primarily I was trying to find out who killed his grandfather.

“That’s why I’m here, too!” he whispered. “I got the camera and everything.”

“You’re certainly prepared.”

“I have to be,” he said, taking a seat next to me on the blanket and peering through the camera lens toward the house. “This time, I’ve just got to catch her on tape.”

“Her?”

“My Aunt Judith. She’s the one who’s doing it.”

I sat back and exhaled slowly, remembering my conversation with Carlos at the funeral home. I have some ideas, he had said then. Apparently, I realized now, he really did.

We sat there side by side in the darkness, watching the house and grounds, while Carlos gave me his version of all that had been happening. He told me about the incident with the sable coat that started it all and the other weird things that occurred as the situation escalated. Carlos described how, as the incidents continued to happen, the family slowly began to take sides. Wendell thought Derek might be the one doing these things; Marion thought it was Sidra who was doing them and then trying to make everyone think it was Derek. Though everyone in the family seemed to blame either Derek or Sidra for all of the hateful incidents, Carlos had felt certain that neither one was involved. Finally, Carlos had had an idea: He decided to stay up all night and try to catch the person himself.