Free A Dime a Dozen by Mindy Starns Clark

moment. I was very good at compartmentalizing my feelings when I needed to. I’d had lots of practice at tucking away the hurt and getting on with the business at hand.
    “There’s a plate for you in the microwave,” Natalie said. “Just press the ‘Start’ button if you want to heat it up.”
    I did as she directed, and a minute later I pulled out a steaming plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and grits. It looked wonderful, though it was a slight departure from my usual breakfast of poached eggs and dry toast.
    When I sat at the table, Dean handed me the local newspaper. A report of the murder was featured front and center under the headline “Murder in Greenbriar,” with the subheading, “Identity Sought for Victim of Stabbing.” I skimmed the article and learned nothing new, though I was glad to see that in my tiny part of the drama I was referred to merely as a “local witness,” rather than by name. There was a sidebar with a description of the man who was killed, where he was listed as a white male with black hair and brown eyes, 5'11" tall, 182 pounds. They also included my limited description of the person seen in the woods: a young male wearing dark clothes and a baseball cap.
    The three of us talked about the whole event, each from our own perspective. As a deacon at the church, Dean’s main concern was with practical issues like church liability and safety. Natalie seemed more worried about Luisa, wondering if the murder was somehow tied in with the stink bombs found in the car.
    I hadn’t considered that, but now as I thought about it, I realized that the stink bombs and the murder might be connected, probably with the former serving as a diversion for the latter, though I didn’t know enough about the woman’s situation to have an opinion on whether her car had been targeted specifically or if it had just been a coincidence.
    “I’m telling you, this poor woman seems to draw trouble,” Dean said, pushing away from the table and standing. He carried his dishes to the sink, rinsed them, and set them in the dishwasher. “She’s really a good soul, but her life is a mess. She’s already taken up far too much of our time.”
    He excused himself to get ready for work.
    “Up until last night,” Natalie added as he left the room, “the few odd things that happened to her really have been minor. Spray paint in her driveway, the occasional slashed tire, stolen laundry from her car. But if that man’s murder had anything to do with Luisa directly, then the nature of whatever is going on with her has definitely taken a turn.”
    “What have the police done for her prior to last night?” I asked, taking a bite of my grits and savoring the perfect blend of taste and texture. Somehow, cooking grits was never an art I had perfected.
    “Not a lot,” Natalie answered. “Like I said, until last night these things weren’t really serious enough to warrant much attention.”
    “Do you think it could be because she’s Mexican?” I asked. “Perhaps there’s some anti-Mexican sentiment in town.”
    “I don’t think so. There are other Mexican Americans who have settled here, and they haven’t had any problems. Looking at the big picture, it does seem as if Luisa’s being harassed.”
    “Does she have any enemies?”
    “None that she can think of.”
    “What about the teenage son? Maybe he’s involved in a gang or something and Luisa just doesn’t know it. Maybe these acts are meant to be against him.”
    “Callie, as far as I know, there aren’t any gangs in Greenbriar. Besides, a few of the early incidents pointed directly to Luisa. Work-related stuff, you know.”
    “Yes, you started to tell me about that last night.”
    Natalie stirred cream into her coffee, quiet for a moment. I let the silence sit there between us as she gathered her thoughts.
    “I’m telling you because I’d rather you hear it straight from me than from some government official. And it’s definitely going to come