Authors: Mindy Starns Clark
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version
. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.
Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
Cover by Dugan Design Group, Bloomington, Minnesota
iStockphoto / Ken Wiedemann
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
A DIME A DOZEN
Copyright © 2003 by Mindy Starns Clark
Published 2011 by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
ISBN 978-0-7369-2958-5 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-4174-7 (eBook)
The Library of Congress has cataloged the edition as follows:
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Clark, Mindy Starns.
A dime a dozen / Mindy Starns Clark.
p. cm. — (The million dollar mysteries; Bk. 3)
ISBN 978-0-7369-0995-2 (pbk.)
1. Women philanthropists—Fiction. 2. Nonprofit organizations—Fiction. 3. Migrant agricultural laborers—Fiction. 4. Great Smoky Mountains (N.C. and Tenn.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3603.L366 D56 2003
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Printed in the United States of America
11 12 13 14 15 16 17 / LB-KB / 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For my daughter Lauren…
When God gave me you, He gave me the sunshine
to hold in my arms. You are so kind, so gifted,
and so beautiful inside and out.
I love you!
Many, many special thanks:
To my husband, John Clark, J.D., C.P.A., for being a writer’s dream come true. With your advising, editing, brainstorming, insight, child care, support, and love, you are making every step of this magical journey a true joy. Honey, I couldn’t do any of it without you!
To my editor, Kim Moore, of Harvest House Publishers: Kim, you exemplify God’s grace in all that you do.
To Kay Justus, for coming through for me in ways too numerous to count: You are my PCAW, always.
To my father, Robert M. Starns, M.D., for excellent medical advice and information.
To my brilliant readers Jackie Starns and Shari Weber.
To all of those who filled in the gaps of my knowledge: Daniel Bailey, Cecilia Baldini, Charles and Kay Buchanan, Ariane A. Chavez-Luviano, Alice Clark, Emily Clark, James B. Hedrick, Wells and Frieda Justus, C.J. and Melissa Martin, Dave Snyder, Adam Sullivan, David Sullivan, the owners of Old Pressley SM, and the friendly, helpful staff at the Hendersonville, NC, Visitors Center.
To everyone who went to my website (
) and entered my Name-the-Charity contest, especially the winners Barbara Pistache, David Tinker, and Kim Colley.
To the great minds at CWG, DorothyL, and MMA, for advice and support.
Thanks to all of you!
Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows
I’d never been part of a sting before. Sure, I’d blown the whistle on some defrauders in the past, and I had seen more than one person arrested because of felonious deeds I had brought to light. But this time was different. This time the crime was still in the process of being committed. Worse than that, most of the people at this party were involved.
I stood near French doors that led to the patio, holding a soda in my hand and looking out through the glass at the pool sparkling in the cool March afternoon. Behind the pool was a small lawn dotted here and there with ornamental groupings of shrubbery and plants, all surrounded by a high, thick hedge. I knew that a team of cops was on the other side of that hedge, ready to enter from every direction as soon as I gave the signal.
“Callie, would you like a hamburger? Maybe a hot dog?”
My hostess appeared in front of me bearing a platter of raw meat shaped into patties, and I assumed she was on her way back outside to the grill. My eyes focused on the marbled beef, and then at her expectant face. She was the very picture of charm and hospitality. Oh, and theft.
“No, thank you,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”
Her hands were full, so I opened the door to let her out. Music poured into the house, compliments of large speakers mounted under the eaves.
“You should come too,” she urged loudly as she handed the platter off to her husband, Skipper. “It’s a gorgeous day.”
“In a while, perhaps,” I said as I let the door fall shut between us. She turned her attention to a group of guests near the pool, and as she worked the crowd I thought,
You don’t want me to go outside, Winnie. The last thing you want me to do is go outside