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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 sat on the bed, trying to remember what had been in the bag that had been taken. I thought of the knife and photo from Sidra, along with the pack of letters, the comb, and the dinosaur from her apartment. There was also the pad of paper I had taken from Judith’s room, scribbled on with a pencil to reveal the information about me. I walked to the closet and looked inside, digging through my dirty clothes. The paintbrush was gone, too. Whoever had been here had found it.

There was no way to figure out who might have done this. Because I had been the first one to leave this morning, it could’ve been almost anyone who lived here. Beyond that, someone could’ve broken in while we were all at the funeral—perhaps this Mitchell Ralston after he shoved me into the empty grave. Trying to figure it out was futile.

I felt the worst about the pack of Sidra’s letters. If I hadn’t taken them from her drawer, they wouldn’t be missing now. I wondered how I could tell her what I had done, what had happened. Worse than that, I no longer even possessed the knife or the paintbrush, both of which assuredly showed Judith’s fingerprints as final proof of her evil acts of vandalism.

I went to the window and looked out at the rich green lawn, exhaling slowly, letting my heart rate return to normal. I knew that if I was smart, I wouldn’t let the invasion of my room here undermine my confidence as an investigator; instead, I would use my anger as a way to steel my resolve.

My room may have been rifled, but I still had the two notes from the cemetery. Perhaps one of them had a good print. I wanted an ID on the man who lured me there, to see if the fingerprints belonged to “Mitchell Ralston,” the name that Harriet had given me from the car registration.

“You wanna play dirty?” I whispered. “Then let’s get down to business.”

Crossing to the door, I made certain that it was locked. Then I cleared an area at the desk and spread out my tools. The fingerprinting kit Duane Perskie had given me included the three most common types of fingerprinting powder: black for light objects, white for dark objects, and silver for glass and mirrors.