The Sandy Bay Cozy Mysteries series Box Set

by Amber Crewes

  Rebecca huffed, reaching down to loosen the string on her pants. “I think I need to go shopping,” she said as she let out a sigh of relief. “This run was nice, but I don’t think it solved my problems. Meghan, your father and I have a party to attend just hours after we arrive home in Texas, and I am in need of some new dress pants. How about we take a little jog over to the department store in town? Karen, would you like to join us?”

  Karen clapped her hands. “I’m always up for a little jog,” she told Rebecca. “Even if it is to a department store.”

  14

  As Meghan, Karen, and Rebecca walked into Sandy Bay Station, the biggest department store in town, Meghan’s stomach churned as she realized the racks were nearly bare. “Mama is not going to be happy,” she thought to herself. “And I’m sure she’ll let us all know that.”

  Rebecca darted from one section to the next, picking up articles of clothing, wrinkling her nose, and dismissing her finds. “I don’t understand,” she declared. “How can this department store have enough money to fund a $25,000 prize for an amateur actor to play Santa Clause, but this is the state of the store?”

  Karen nodded. “I haven’t been in here in a few months,” she admitted. “But the inventory is just sad. I wonder what happened here.”

  Meghan perused a shabby holiday display, cringing at the static playing over the in-store radio. “I don’t know if we’re going to find what you’re looking for, Mama,” she whispered to Rebecca. “It seems like slim-pickings here. Why don’t we try Spark? They have some cute things, and I’m sure we could find something for you. Or we could drive up to Portland. I’m sure they have some designer stores there.”

  Rebecca shook her head. “Let’s just keep looking,” she told her daughter. “Why don’t you ask an associate if there is more merchandise upstairs? Maybe they’ve hidden some things away.”

  Meghan scurried away to the Help Desk and found a sales associate. He was tall and thin, with pasty skin and thick glasses. Meghan flashed her brightest smile and waved. “Hi! I’m Meghan. I’m looking for outfits for women in their mid-fifties. Do you have other sections with things like that?”

  The boy shuffled awkwardly behind the desk. “This is all we have, Ma’am.”

  Meghan cocked her head to the side. “Really? This is the largest store in town. You guys sponsor that major Christmas competition each year for the homeless. What kind of major store has almost no inventory?”

  The boy shrugged. “This is just between us,” he whispered, leaning in toward Meghan. “The store is under some major pressure from Corporate, and from what my manager told me, we might be going under.”

  Meghan’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah,” the boy nodded. “It’s awful; I’ve worked here for two years, and when you make it to your third year, you get a big bonus. If we close before next October, I won’t get my bonus, and I’ll have no job.”

  “That’s terrible,” she said. “Do you think things will get better?”

  The boy shook his head. “Rumor around the staff lounge is that cuts are going to be made soon. Those at the bottom of the seniority list will be let go, and then, they’ll start working down from the top. It’s a mess.”

  Meghan gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry to hear that. Business can be so complicated.”

  The boy raised an eyebrow. “You know, you look familiar. I’ve seen you before. Aren’t you Meghan Truman, the owner of that little bakery?”

  Meghan smiled. “Guilty as charged.”

  “Are you hiring by any chance?” whispered the boy as Meghan bit her lip. “A few buddies from the store and I could really use something more stable. Any way you would take on some extra hands in the New Year?”

  Meghan pursed her lips. “I’m not sure about that,” she admitted. “Things are very stable at my bakery, and I don’t know how I could budget for additional staff. I’ll keep you in my thoughts, though. I’m sorry things are tense here at the store.”

  The boy gave Meghan a weak smile. “Thanks,” he said. “And by the way, there’s rack of nice clothes for women upstairs. It’s the last of our women’s inventory, and we just set it out today. You had better make your way up there before someone else gets to it.”

  “Thanks,” Meghan said. “And happy holidays.”

  An hour later, the three ladies were sipping on coffee at Bean, the coffee shop around the corner from the bakery. Meghan was friendly with the owner, and he always gave her a discount on her lattes.

  “I think it’s cute,” Karen argued with Rebecca over the outfit she had chosen. “It’s not designer, and it’s not fancy, but I think the lilac will be such a pretty color on you.”

  “Yes, it will,” Meghan agreed. “Mama, everything doesn’t always have to be fancy, and I think it’s good you made a purchase. The sales associate told me the store is struggling, and I’m glad we could help.”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Meghan, what have I told you? You cannot get invested in the business of salespeople. If the store is struggling, that isn’t our problem. I just hope this lilac suit will be worth the thirty dollars I paid for it.”

  “At least it was a bargain,” Meghan offered as Rebecca scoffed.

  “Hey, what’s that on the news?” Karen asked, pointing at the little television in the corner of the coffee shop. “That looks like the department store.”

  “Let me go turn it up,” Meghan replied. She walked to the television and turned up the volume. A gaggle of employees from the store were being featured, and Meghan spotted the sales associate who had helped her. The screen then flashed back to a red-haired reporter holding a green microphone.

  “Breaking news from our local department store,” the reporter stated as she grimly read from the offscreen teleprompter. “Christian Evans, the managing director of the store, is under investigation for fraudulent activities. He is also reported to have embezzled over a quarter of a million dollars from the store’s employee compensation account.”

  “Mama, did you hear that?” Meghan asked as she stared at the screen. “That explains why the racks were so bare.”

  “In a statement from the Corporate office in Indianapolis, Indiana, it appears that if the allegations are true, the Sandy Bay location will be shut down immediately.”

  The shot flashed to a suited woman with glasses shaking her head at the camera. “I’m Miranda Mullins, the CEO, and it is a shame that this is happening in one of our stores,” she lamented. “This has jeopardized the health of our company. From my records, it appears we wouldn’t have even been able to sponsor the $25,000 Santa Clause competition in Sandy Bay given our finances. What a shame.”

  Meghan’s jaw dropped. She turned the volume back down on the television and returned to her seat. “Can you believe that?” she asked her mother and Karen. “That Christian Evans stole all of that money, and now, his people will be out of jobs.”

  Karen shook her head. “Christian has always been a greedy scoundrel,” she informed the group. “I grew up with him; he’s a Sandy Bay local, but he doesn’t have a Sandy Bay heart. He used to steal money from our school charities when we were children, and I heard that when he divorced his wife, he left her with nothing. No, I can’t say I’m surprised he’s behind something like this.”

  Rebecca clucked. “He is innocent until proven guilty,” she haughtily told Karen. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

  Meghan frowned. “I think it’s a pretty clear conclusion,” she said slowly. “The man who was set to win the $25,000 prize dies out of the blue, and then it comes out that there was going to be no prize and the department store is going under? It sounds fishy to me.”

  Karen’s lips turned downward into a frown. “Meghan, do you think Jack knows anything about this? I think Christian Evans is the perfect suspect; he has the motive and the means, and I wouldn’t be shocked if he killed that fellow with his own two greedy hands.”

  Meghan whipped out her cell phone and began di
aling. “I think you’re right,” she agreed. “I’m giving Jack a call right now.”

  Jack picked up on the first ring. “Sweetheart?”

  “Jack, have you seen the news?” Meghan asked. “That Christian Evans guy? The manager at the department store? I think he has a serious reason to have done away with the man who died.”

  Jack groaned. “Ugh, I was hoping that news wouldn’t be broken so quickly,” he admitted. “I didn’t want it to turn into a field day at the department store. Don’t worry, babe; we have our team investigating Mr. Evans. We’ve been watching him for weeks.”

  Meghan smiled, relieved that Jack knew of her concerns. “You’re always on the case, Jack,” she gushed. “You’re always on top of things.”

  15

  It was a truly festive evening at the bakery. Meghan had ordered three boxes of holiday decorations from Spark, and as Jack and Pamela helped her dress up Truly Sweet, Christmas music played in the background. Meghan had made a plate of fresh, steaming cinnamon rolls for the occasion, and as she hung ornaments and strung lights, her heart was filled with joy.

  “This is my favorite time of the year,” Pamela exclaimed as she wound a strand of garland around the front counter. “It’s just magical!”

  “I agree,” Jack replied as he took a sip of the coffee Meghan had made for him. He was still working double shifts, and she was thrilled that he was able to steal away for a few hours to help her decorate.

  Meghan smiled as she reached into the last of the three boxes from Spark. “Oooh, look at these,” she said to Pamela and Jack. “A set of jingle bells! They are so shiny and beautiful. The designs on each bell are just spectacular.”

  Pamela dropped the strand of garland and ran to Meghan’s side. “Wow,” she murmured in appreciation as she examined the jingle bells. “They are gorgeous, Meghan. Can I hang them up somewhere special?”

  “Of course,” she answered. “Jingle bells bring good luck! Why don’t you hang them on the register, Pamela? Maybe they’ll bring good luck to my business.”

  Pamela laughed at Meghan’s joke. “This place looks so pretty. Thanks for inviting me to help you deck the halls.”

  Suddenly, Meghan heard the familiar tone of Jack’s work phone. She groaned, disappointed that her beloved boyfriend would likely be called to the station sooner than later.

  “This is Detective Irvin,” Jack answered in a business-like tone. “Yes, Chief, I am available.”

  Meghan’s heart sank. She had been having such an enjoyable evening, and now, Jack would have to leave. He had been so busy with work lately, and she felt as though they had hardly gotten to do any fun, festive holiday activities. She tried to keep a pleasant look on her face as Jack hung up the phone and walked to her, but Meghan felt the frown creep across her lips.

  “What’s wrong?” Jack asked.

  “Nothing,” Meghan responded. “I’m just sad that you have to leave. That was Chief Nunan, I heard. Do you have to go?”

  Jack nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s for work. Surely you understand.”

  Meghan bit her lip. “I’ve just had to understand a lot, lately,” she said sharply. “You’ve been working so much.”

  Jack thought for a moment. “I have an idea,” he said. “Chief Nunan said they’ll only need me for an hour or so. How about you send Pamela home, and then you can ride with me to the station? We can go out for a drink or a treat after. What do you say?”

  Meghan paused, but seeing the hopeful look in Jack’s eyes, she smiled. “That sounds fine,” she told him.

  When Jack and Meghan arrived at the station twenty minutes later, Chief Nunan met them at the door. “It’s a big break, Jack,” she told him as they walked down the hall toward the interrogation room. “He told us he is ready to confess, but for some reason, he wanted you in attendance.”

  Meghan’s eyes widened. “Should I go to your office?”

  Jack nodded. “Yes,” he agreed. “Wait for me. This shouldn’t take long.”

  When Jack returned to his office, his face was shell-shocked. “You won’t believe what’s happened,” he whispered to Meghan.

  “What’s going on?” Meghan asked.

  Jack took a long, deep breath. “Well, he didn’t quite confess to murder,” Jack informed Meghan as she leaned forward in her chair. “He told me that he and Roger had been sharing a bottle of vodka together on the night Roger died. They drank too much, and when Alan regained consciousness, he was lying in front of the toy store downtown. Roger was gone.”

  Meghan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t understand,” she murmured.

  “There’s more,” Jack said. “Alan confessed that he and Roger were close friends. They had a falling out awhile back, but they were buddies. They told each other everything.”

  Meghan shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  Jack closed his eyes. “I think Alan knows more than he is letting on,” he told Meghan. “It just doesn’t make sense that these two old pals could spend the evening together, and then, Roger ended up dead. Alan has too much to lose in this case. I’m ordering him thrown back in jail, and I’m going to find out just how he killed Roger. Maybe he worked with Christian Evans, or maybe he worked alone, but either way, I have a feeling that he had something to do with it.”

  16

  “Mama? Mama, you forgot your sweater at the bakery. I came by to return it, like you asked me to.”

  Meghan stood outside of her parents’ hotel room hoping they were available. She had been just about to close her eyes for a quick nap when her phone had rung; Rebecca insisted that she come to the hotel to return the sweater immediately, and Meghan had dutifully agreed. Now, as she stood in the hallway, she wished she had let her phone go to voicemail and taken her nap.

  “Henry, I want to move here full-time,” she heard her mother shout through the thick, oak door. “It isn’t fair that I can’t make the decision myself, and I think you are being a bully about this!”

  Meghan heard the anger in her mother’s voice, and she pressed her ear against the door. “Moving to Sandy Bay full-time is impossible, Rebecca,” Henry announced. “I have business to attend to in Texas! You have your groups and social activities. Why would you want to give all of that up for this dinky little town?”

  Meghan heard her mother sniffle. “I miss our Meghan,” Rebecca cried. “She’s been away for so long. We are practically strangers! She doesn’t understand my sense of humor, or style, and I don’t understand hers. I want to change that, Henry.”

  “Then why don’t we stick with the original plan and buy a second home here?” Henry asked.

  “It isn’t enough,” Rebecca pleaded. “I can tell that Meghan is in love with Jack, and before we know it, she will be getting married and having babies. I want some time to get to know my daughter as an adult, and I want that time before she is consumed with being a wife and a mother. I don’t think that is too much to ask.”

  There was a long pause, and Meghan decided to let herself into the hotel room. She opened the door, and her parents stared at her. “Meghan,” Rebecca exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

  Meghan held the mint green designer sweater up for her mother to see. “You asked me to bring this to you, remember?”

  Rebecca nodded and smiled through her tears. “Of course, dear. I sure hope you didn’t hear your Daddy and I quarreling in here. It’s rude to let others hear your private matters, you know.”

  Henry nodded. “Your mother and I were just discussing the holiday,” he lied to his daughter as Meghan politely nodded.

  “Yes,” Rebecca confirmed. “The holiday. Anyway, my phone is ringing; let me take this, and Henry? Can you offer Meghan some refreshments?”

  Henry ushered Meghan further into the hotel suite. It was a magnificent set of rooms complete with an opulent master bedroom, a spare bedroom, three bathrooms, an in-suite study, and a personal butler to meet guests’ every need. “This is a nice place, Daddy,” Meghan said in awe as sh
e examined the art on the wall. “This is nicer than my apartment.”

  “You know how your mother likes nice things,” Henry told his daughter as he gestured at a leather armchair. “Sit down, Meghan. It’s nearly happy hour. What can I make you to drink?”

  Meghan thought for a moment. “A Tom Collins?”

  “Coming right up,” Henry informed her, walking to the yellow telephone on the wall and giving it a ring. “Hello? This is Henry Truman, and I would like to order a Tom Collins, a gin on the rocks, and a whiskey sour. Yes, we would also like some appetizers. Let’s get an order of the spinach dip, the crab legs, eighteen oysters--no, make that twenty-four, and a spread of cheese and pate. Yes, charge it to the room. Thank you.”