Chapters (62)
- Cover
- A PENNY
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- A Sample Chapter of Don’t Take Any Wooden Nickels
- About the Author
- Other Books by Mindy Starns Clark
- About the Publisher
“The doctor gave me some Valium,” she said, no slur evident in her voice, but a strange calm in her eyes. “I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through without it.”
“I’m sure.”
She stood quietly for a moment, her hands oddly still at her sides. She spoke again, after a moment, her voice sounding peaceful and resolute.
“Ian did a beautiful job with the eulogy,” she said. “Don’t you think?”
I nodded, not admitting I hadn’t listened to a word.
“How about you, dear? You seem pale.”
“I’m feeling sad,” I admitted. “Your husband’s funeral reminded me a little too much of my own husband’s funeral, selfish as that sounds.”
“Not selfish,” Marion whispered. “Sorrow notwithstanding, we’re also allowed a little self-pity now and then.”
She came over to the desk and sat across from me. Looking at her more closely, I realized that there was an odd sort of excitement in her eyes.
“Right now,” she said suddenly, “I have some things to show you, Callie. Big things. Do you feel up to hearing about it? Because I found them in here, this morning. I think they’re important.”
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Two
I sat up straight, giving Marion my full attention.
“You know I told you the other day that Wendell was concerned about Feed the Need, about the finances there?” Marion asked me now.
“Yes?”
“Well, it finally struck me to look inside Wendell’s office safe. I thought he might have some papers or something, but I never expected to find all that I did. It’s truly astonishing, Callie. I think once you’ve looked all of these things over, you might find our killer.”
I watched as Marion went to a large portrait of Thomas Jefferson on the wall. She swung the painting out on a set of hinges, revealing a wall safe behind. She deftly worked the lock, opened it, and removed a cardboard box.
By the time she had carried it to the desk and opened it up, my curiosity was definitely piqued. Together we pulled everything out, and then Marion went through the various things, showing me what she thought each one meant.
She held out a handwritten sign containing a word I didn’t recognize, and she told me that she remembered clearly the day Wendell found it.
“It was on a trip to the Philippines,” she said. “We had an unscheduled stop in Manila, with a layover extended by several hours. There was a Feed the Need district office there, so Wendell and I decided to taxi over from the airport, drop in, and see everyone. Instead, all we found when we got there was this sign, written in Tagalog, hanging on the front door.”
“What does it say?” I asked.
“It says ‘closed.’”
“Like, closed for the night?”
“No, closed permanently. Out of business. The place was completely stripped, not a speck of furniture left, not a soul there.”