By Cook or by Crook (A Five-Ingredient Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page B

lunch.”
    “Let’s get together for a drink sometime. The dockside restaurant has a new patio overlooking the water.”
    “Uh . . . okay.” She smiled, unsure whether he had a romantic encounter or a friendly chat in mind. Maybe he didn’t know, either. “See you, Luke.”
    She hurried to her parking space. A blast of heat hit her when she opened the car door. She’d rather walk half a mile home than ride in an oven. The car might cool off in another hour, once the sun went behind the tree. She cracked the windows open and shut the door. On the way home she ambled along shady back streets, avoiding the diner.
    Granddad greeted her from the glider on the front porch. “How did it go with the police? Where’s your car? Did they impound it?”
    She laughed and leaned against the porch railing. “It went okay. I left the car in town. Needed a walk to clear my head. Did Monique call while I was gone?”
    He shook his head. “You look worried.”
    “I’ve been trying to reach her all morning to tell her about Nadia.” An hour ago she’d feared her cousin had run away. Now a worse scenario popped into her mind. “One woman in my tennis group murdered, another one not returning phone calls. I’m more than worried.”
    “Don’t be. Monique’s out and about somewhere, taking care of Number One, just like her daddy did. She’ll call you when she gets around to it.”
    Val always defended her cousin against Granddad’s bias, a holdover from his rift with Monique’s father. “She would answer her cell phone if she were out. I should go to her house, but I see myself ringing her doorbell like I rang Nadia’s, turning the doorknob, going inside, and finding her on the floor—” Val broke off with a shudder.
    Granddad eased himself out of the glider. “I’ll drive you to her house after lunch. If anything looks suspicious when we get there, you can wait in the car while I check it out.”
    What if Monique had been murdered like Nadia? Val couldn’t let Granddad see anything like that. He might have a heart attack. “I’ll go myself later. Want to help me make crab cakes? Only five ingredients. Your first cooking lesson.”
    “I’ll watch. I’ve done enough cooking for one day.” He followed her into the kitchen.
    She washed her hands and took an egg from the fridge. “Would you get the flour, olive oil, and Old Bay seasoning from the pantry?”
    He lined up the ingredients on the counter. “While you were gone, I made a deal with a painter who’s going to do the upstairs bathroom and hall. He cut his price way down. All you gotta do is make the salads and side dishes for his Fourth of July party.”
    “You’re escalating. Last time I only had to bake a cake.” She pried the top off the plastic container of crabmeat, dumped the crab into a bowl, and checked it for bits of shell. “The IRS frowns on unreported income from bartering. The painter and I should both report the value of our services as income on our tax forms.”
    “He’s offered me a senior citizen discount. You’re just doing your grandfather a favor. The IRS won’t come after us for that. Loosen up, Val. Bend the rules once in a while.”
    Always the wheeler-dealer, he got a kick out of bending rules, bargaining, and even exploiting his own granddaughter. At least she was collecting references for her cooking services, if not money. And she could honestly tell her mother that he was fixing up the house—in his own wily way.
    Val mixed the crabmeat with egg, flour, and Old Bay seasoning. She picked up a hunk and shaped it into a patty. The phone rang. She looked at the crabmeat clinging to her palms. “Would you get that? If it’s Monique, I’ll wash my hands and talk to her.”
    He left the room to answer the phone. He’d never bothered to put an extension in the kitchen. Val didn’t bother either, using her cell phone more often than the landline.
    She put the patties in the freezer to harden before frying, glanced into the