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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 didn’t know where I was going as I turned, only that I was getting off of the road, away from the maniac in the truck. With my luck, I’m driving off a cliff, I thought as I pounded blindly down an incline, away from the road. When my car finally came to a stop, I was enveloped in a cloud of dust. I held my breath, eyes closed, praying that he was gone for good and that I was safe.

“You alright, lady?”

I opened my eyes to see six or seven men surrounding my car, looking in at me with concern. They were construction workers, all in jeans and hard hats. I nodded, opening my door with trembling hands.

“Somebody ran me off the road,” I said, my voice hoarse.

“We heard the noise,” one of the men said. “He was gunning right for you.”

“Where am I?”

“Road construction,” another one said. “We’re widening the lanes.”

I stood up on unsteady legs and looked around at the packed-dirt lot that surrounded me. There were cars parked in rows in the dirt, and I could see the cranes and other equipment of heavy construction in the distance. Fortunately, I seemed to have landed in the one part of the area that didn’t have any vehicles in it. I realized that had I gone another 20 feet, I would’ve crashed into a group of workmen laying some cement.

I turned to look at my car, fear welling up in my throat when I saw what he had done. The car looked as though it had been through a major crash with paint scraped from the sides and the back crushed in like a cereal box. Only with God’s grace, I knew, had I survived.

“You want we should call the police for you?” one of the men asked. I shook my head, knowing that the police were already looking for me.

“Just tell me if there’s another way to get out of here besides the main road,” I said, my voice sounding much stronger now than I felt. I knew my only choice was to pick up Harriet and get this mystery solved before I was as dead as Wendell Smythe.

The police would hear my story soon enough.

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Eight

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Harriet was waiting when I arrived at the train station, a big tote bag clutched in each hand. As I pulled closer, I could see her face go from excited to appalled. She looked my vehicle up and down, her eyes wide.

“What in the world happened to you?” she exclaimed. “I guess Philly traffic is even worse than DC, huh?”

I got out and hugged her and then told her to lower her voice and get in the car as quickly as possible. She did as I asked, tossing her tote bags into the backseat before sitting down and slamming the door.