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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

And then there was Nick. I thought about our conversation in the kitchen, his proclaimed affection for the Smythe family. Was he really to be believed? I remembered how offended he was when I mistook him for a chauffeur, and I thought that perhaps his tremendous pride might’ve played into some sort of motive for him. Beyond that, the only thing I could think of was what Alan Bennet had said, about Wendell being on a nephrotic syndrome diet. What torture it must’ve been for Wendell to sit back and watch his family eat Nick’s heavenly cooking, only to have to deny himself of it completely! What if Nick had been slated to be let go—perhaps even sent back to Italy—now that Wendell could no longer enjoy his delicious cooking? To stay in America, to keep his job here—would that have been worth killing for?

I was stretching, I knew. A good chef could always find work in a gastro-oriented society like ours. I put down my notes, rubbed my eyes, then saved the file, closed the laptop, and stashed it in my briefcase. Brainstorming had its place, but now it was time to examine the physical evidence and see if it held any important secrets.

I went to the radiator and lifted the cover. I reached down to pull out my little collection, only to find myself grasping at air. Kneeling down to look, I was shocked to find the paper bag and its contents gone!

I stood, scrutinizing the room, a chill going through me. Everything seemed the same, though now that I knew someone had been here, I could see some subtle differences. A drawer that wasn’t quite closed. The few items hanging in the closet pushed farther to one side.

My adversary, whoever it was, was smarter and more determined than I had originally thought. At the office, my briefcase had been rifled through. Was I really surprised that someone had now gone through my room? I berated myself for not finding an even better hiding place for my evidence.

I had made several mistakes now in this case, and I knew I was sorely out of practice for this type of investigation. I thought back to my conversation with Tom when he asked me to find Wendell’s murderer. I had warned him then that my usual financial investigations were a far cry from a murder investigation. He had scoffed, insisting that my talents and instincts would prevail. How wrong he was, I realized.