BooksBarbecue
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

Once I was done, I looked at the clock and realized I still had nearly two hours before it was time for the funeral. After my sleepless night, a nap would’ve been a good idea, but I knew my brain was spinning far too much to let me fall asleep. What I really wanted was to spend that time doing something physical like swimming or jogging. I decided, instead, to use this time to take a look at the things that were stashed behind the radiator. I pulled out the paper bag from Sidra’s cabana and the blank pad of paper and the paintbrush that I had swiped from Judith’s suite.

It was a normal brush, about four inches wide, and I studied the base of the bristles for any trace of red fake blood. Though I couldn’t see any, I went into the bathroom, filled the basin with a little water, then pressed the brush under the water, working it against the side of the sink. After a moment, my suspicions were confirmed: The water turned from clear to vaguely pink.

I wrapped the brush in a towel, then carried it to the closet and stuck it down among my dirty clothes. Carlos, Derek, and I knew that Judith was the one doing these things to Sidra. The question that remained now was why?

I reached for the blank pad from Judith’s room, wishing I had access to an ESDA. Electrostatic Detection Apparatus was just a fancy name for an instrument that let you analyze sheets of paper for writing indents, sometimes as deep as 20 sheets into the pad. Instead, I would have to rely on the old-fashioned method—a pencil rubbed lightly across the paper.

It didn’t take long, and what I found was rather disturbing. Once I was finished, I held the paper in front of me and read it again, to be sure: It was information, jotted in a row down the page, about me. It started with my full name. Under that was my license plate number, and under that was the make, color, and model of my car. I continued reading my age, my job title and place of employment, where I went to college and law school, and my current home address. That was it, all in a row, Callie Webber in a nutshell.

I was still studying the page when I was startled by a knock at the door. I shoved the pad into the paper bag, slid it under the bed, and went to the door.

I opened it to see Angelina holding out a big FedEx box.

“Hi, Callie,” she said. “You have a phone call. And this came for you.”