By Cook or by Crook (A Five-Ingredient Mystery) by Maya Corrigan Page B

matter. “Last night someone forced my car off the road.”
    The chief sat up straighter and scrutinized her face. “Did you get hurt?”
    “No injuries except to my tire.” She repeated what she’d told the gray-haired officer earlier. “Right before that happened, my car was parked in front of Darwin’s Sports. Darwin saw me drive off and could have followed me from there to the peninsula. Can you check if he has a light-colored SUV?”
    “I can check, but I can’t do anything about it. Unless you actually saw him behind the wheel, we don’t have cause to investigate him. Why would he run you off the road?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe something I said at the shop annoyed him.” She debated whether to tell him she’d asked about wood rackets.
    The chief stood up, a signal that she’d occupied enough of his time. “Darwin has a quick temper. He used to settle scores with his fists. If you annoyed him, you’d best stay clear of him.”
    “He teaches tennis at the club. I can’t totally avoid him, but I’ll try.”
    “Don’t repeat anything I told you about those rackets, the burned one or the weapon. That information’s under embargo. I don’t want anyone convicted by the media.”
    She walked with him back into the building. “I’ll keep quiet. Monique’s life will be hell if word gets out about the racket burning.”
    “That should have crossed her mind before she did it. Your granddaddy doesn’t think much of her side of the family, says they always act without thinking.”
    Val pressed her lips together to cork an angry retort. “Monique’s father moved to Canada during the Vietnam War. I’m sure he didn’t exile himself without thinking long and hard about it. And the way Granddad treated ‘her side of the family’ gives me more reason to stand by her.”
    The chief escorted Val out of the building. “But how well do you know her? You may be seeing what you want to see, not what’s really there.”
    Could Val have missed a violent streak in her cousin? A week ago, she would have said no. Since then, Monique had set a racket on fire. An act of revenge, yes, but one that caused no physical harm. Killing someone, though, was in another league. “If Monique confesses to the murder, Chief, I’ll admit I really didn’t know her.” But not until then.
    Meanwhile, Val would need an excuse to find out more about Nadia. What had she done in the days before the murder? Had she argued with anyone? Who could have seen the charred racket in the twenty-four hours between when it burned and when Nadia was murdered? Answering those questions might lead to murder suspects other than Monique.
    Val drove from the police station to the club. She expected to find Bethany frantic for help with the lunch crowd. Apparently, though, Bethany’s experience with six-year-olds gave her the skills to handle hungry customers. Val left her to it and waylaid the club manager. She gave him the catering menus and prices, explaining that Nadia had requested them for the tennis team party. He glanced at them and said he’d give Val a catering contract.
    Val owed Nadia for that, but how do you pay a debt to a dead woman? She convinced the manager that the club newsletter should run an article about Nadia and offered to write it. He accepted her offer.
    Now that she had a license to snoop, she would talk to real estate developer Bigby O’Shay, Nadia’s former mixed doubles partner and Bethany’s brother. Val had seen the hostility between him and Nadia. Though Bethany had insisted her brother would never hurt Nadia, Val wanted to judge that for herself.

Chapter 9
    Outside the town limits, Val drove past billboards announcing the opening of a new gated community, Bigby O’Shay’s latest venture. Bethany’s brother used his own initials when he named his developments—Bay Overlook, Broad Outlands, and now Bayport Oaks. Club members called him B.O. behind his back, but not to his face.
    The woman in the sales trailer