Ice Cream and Guilty Pleasures

by Amber Crewes

  ICE CREAM AND GUILTY PLEASURES

  A Sandy Bay Cozy Mystery

  By

  Amber Crewes

  Published by Pen-n-a-Pad Publishing in 2018

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © Pen-n-a-Pad Publishing

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  CONTENTS

  About Ice Cream and Guilty Pleasures

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  Thank You!

  ALSO BY AMBER CREWES

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  About Ice Cream and Guilty Pleasures

  Released: November, 2018

  Series: Book 9 – Sandy Bay Cozy Mystery Series

  Standalone: Yes

  Cliff-hanger: No

  Meghan Truman is honored to be invited to serve her signature tarts at the Governor’s ball. A night of glitz and glamour, in the company of handsome Detective Jack Irvin, is ruined for her when she experiences firsthand, the ungracious attitude of a prominent figure that she once looked up to.

  Things take a turn for the worse when this insolent guest is found dead after eating a dish of ice cream. Meghan is sure she had nothing to do with it as her desserts were rejected by the deceased.

  Will Megan and Jack be able to navigate this unfamiliar world of wealth and privilege to discover the truth in time to save her business?

  Not all sweet things are pleasurable.

  The guilty can sometimes be sweet.

  Discover how Meghan helps to solve the latest murder mystery in Sandy Bay.

  THANK YOU FOR GETTING THIS BOOK IN THE SANDY BAY COZY MYSTERY SERIES. WHY DON’T YOU SIGN UP FOR UPDATES AND GET THE PREQUEL STORY SENT TO YOU FOR FREE

  Click Here to Receive Updates and the Prequel

  1

  It was a snowy night in Sandy Bay, and as Meghan Truman snuggled beneath a patterned wool blanket, she felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Her new friend, Jacqueline, had invited her over for some television and girl talk while her boyfriend, Jack, had taken her out the night before to Luciano’s, her favorite Italian restaurant in town.

  “That was such a good show,” Jacqueline gushed as the light from the fireplace made her eyes glow. “Let’s flip over to the news; we’ve been watching so much of this reality show that I think my brain is turning to mush!”

  “Oh, stop,” Meghan protested good-naturedly. “Miss-to-Mrs. has been my favorite show since college. The contestants are so funny and ridiculous, and it’s hilarious to watch them compete for one fellow’s attention.”

  Jacqueline playfully stuck out her tongue and rose from her position on the couch. “While you watch the end of this silly show, I’m going to go grab another glass of cabernet for you. I know it’s one you like, and you’ll need a little wine when we switch over to a serious news show as opposed to this goofy trash TV.”

  Meghan chuckled as Jacqueline walked into the kitchen. “Make sure it’s a small pour,” she called to her. “It’s my favorite drink, but I have a lot of things to do tomorrow. I’m busy at the bakery this weekend, and I have so many errands to do.”

  Jacqueline wrinkled her nose as she walked back into her dimly-lit living room with two glasses of red wine in her hands. “Trudy agreed to a three-day weekend? That’s probably for the best for both of you...you did say that she’s been a little moody lately.”

  Meghan nodded as she thought of her assistant. Trudy had been a helpful companion at the bakery for a few months, but lately, she had been fussy and irritable, and Meghan was eager to get some time away from her.

  “Well anyway, here is your cabernet,” Jacqueline said as she handed the glass to Meghan. “I hope you like it.”

  Meghan took a sip and sighed. “It’s perfect,” she cooed as she passed the remote to Jacqueline. “I guess you can change the channel now, Jackie.”

  Jacqueline laughed. “Hardly anyone calls me Jackie but I like it. It’s cute.”

  Meghan grinned. “Jackie it is, then.” She settled back against the couch and yawned. “I’m getting sleepy. I’m afraid the news will just knock me right out.”

  Jacqueline shrugged, but as she changed the channel to the Sandy Bay News station, both women gasped. “Look at that,” she murmured as the sight of dozens of elegantly-dressed couples filled the screen. The couples paraded around an ornate ballroom, and then the show flashed to a shot of ten smiling people being served lobster on gold plates.

  “What is this? More reality television?” Meghan asked in wonder as her dark eyes widened. “This is the Sandy Bay News channel, isn’t it? Surely something so fancy isn’t happening in Sandy Bay?”

  Jackie raised a finger to her lips. “Shhhhh,” she ordered Meghan. “I want to hear what this is.”

  The channel cut to a shot of a young, stunningly beautiful brunette woman reporting from a studio. She had a dazzling white smile, and her eyes twinkled as she addressed the audience. “With the upcoming Governor’s Ball around the corner, there is no doubt that this event will be the social event of the year in Sandy Bay. We just showed you clips from last year’s event, and as a reporter and guest, I can say that it was a fine affair. With celebrities coming into Sandy Bay from around the world, a marvelous menu, and a live band, the Governor’s Ball is a night to remember. Isn’t that right, Kirsty?”

  Meghan’s jaw dropped. “Of course Kirsty Fisher is in charge of such a fancy event,” she muttered as Kirsty Fisher, one of Sandy Bay’s social butterflies, appeared next to the young brunette woman. As a business owner in Sandy Bay, Meghan had frequently interacted with Kirsty who was constantly trying to get her to help with events in town, or provide goods for a party or festival, and while Meghan admired Kirsty’s commitment to her causes, she could be a bit much.

  “Thank you for having me,” Kirsty smiled as she flipped her blonde hair behind her narrow shoulders. “This year’s ball will be the night of all nights! We have so many special guests coming to town, and of course, Governor Brown and his lovely wife, Paula, will be hosting. The tickets are five-thousand dollars per person this year, and the planning committee is delighted to see how much fun we can have. Come, everyone. Purchase tickets before they sell out!”

  Meghan clapped her hands in delight. “Jackie, Paula Brown is from Texas, my home state. She was Miss Texas years ago, and then she became an actress in Hollywood. She is so beautiful. I grew up with a picture of her on the wall in my bedroom.”

  Jackie smiled. “That’s adorable, Meghan. Maybe you can sneak into the Governor’s Ball and meet her?”

  Meghan raised an eyebrow. “I would have to sneak in,” she admitted. “I cannot afford a five-thousand dollar ticket to the ball. Maybe someday….”

  The television screen turned to black, and then it revealed a middle-aged man in a white chef’s hat. “Look at that, Meghan,” Jackie said as she pointed to the screen. “It’s Claude Boucher. He’s that famous chef from Paris. He must be in town as a celebrity guest at the ball.”

  “I know who Claude Boucher is,” Meghan boasted. “I do own a bakery. Claude Boucher is one of the most famous chefs and bakers in the world right now.”

  The tw
o women watched as Claude sat across from a red-headed reporter on a green leather couch. “Mr. Boucher,” the reporter asked. “You will be a guest at the ball this year, but a little bird tells me that you are assisting the planning committee in designing the menu? What can you tell us about this?”

  Claude leaned back and brushed the silver hair from his forehead. He smiled, and Meghan noticed the deep dimples in his cheeks. “Well, it is an honor to design the menu,” Claude declared as he crossed his right leg over his left leg. “And unlike other years, we are not going to be exclusively importing the foods from France.”

  The red-headed reporter leaned in. “Oh? So this year will be different? Where will the foods be found for the Governor’s Ball?”

  Claude gestured at the camera. “From here, of course. We are celebrating local foods this year to give the Governor’s Ball just a little something special. For example, we usually fly in our crème brulee from Paris, but this year, we have been investigating local options from the Pacific Northwest.”

  Meghan’s heart began pounding in her chest. “Jackie,” she whispered as Claude flashed a radiant smile to the red-headed reporter. “Jackie, they’re asking local chefs and bakers to cater the Governor’s Ball. I’m a local baker!”

  Jackie jerked her chin at the television. “Be quiet. We need details, lady.”

  As Meghan shut her mouth, Claude grinned. “We’ve been quietly searching up and down the West Coast for the best of all dining options, and I am thrilled to say that for this year, we have chosen the Truly Sweet bakery in Sandy Bay to provide the desserts for the Governor’s Ball.”

  Meghan fell off of the couch. “Jackie,” she murmured with a shaking voice. “Jackie, he just said Truly Sweet. He just announced that my bakery is going to be providing the desserts for the biggest event of the year.”

  Jackie ran over to Meghan and wrapped her arms around her. “This is fantastic news. I cannot believe this. You should be so proud.”

  As the two women embraced, Meghan’s heart fluttered with joy. She closed her eyes and imagined her night at the Governor’s Ball. She had been to fine events before, but never something as prestigious as this one. As Jackie began to squeal in celebration, Meghan felt a happy tear roll down her cheek.

  “This is just truly sweet, Jackie,” Meghan exclaimed as she wiped the tear from her dark eyes. “This news is truly sweet!”

  2

  “Pamela, you are doing a wonderful job,” Meghan gushed as she watched her newest employee drizzle hazelnut icing atop a freshly baked tart. “You have caught on to Truly Sweet’s treat-making processes so quickly. I am quite impressed.”

  Pamela beamed at Meghan, her braces shining in the light of the sunny afternoon. Meghan had hired the teenager the previous week to do some cleaning in the evenings, but after Meghan had caught her frosting a cake like an expert, she knew that Pamela had talent and should be promoted.

  “The way you fluffed the dough earlier was lovely, and I saw that you added three cups of butter to the mix. I usually only add one and a half cups of butter, but after trying your batch of tarts, I think I need to add more.”

  Pamela’s brown eyes glittered. “I’ve been practicing, Meghan. Making these tarts for you was so much fun, and I just want to keep baking and baking and baking.”

  Trudy stormed into the kitchen, her greying hair messy and her clothes covered in flour. “Meghan, the dishes are done and the cookies have been baked. May I go, now?”

  Meghan nodded. “Sure, Trudy,” she said as Trudy walked to the door. “No problem.”

  Pamela turned to look at Meghan. “What’s her problem? I feel like she doesn’t like me.”

  Meghan shook her head. “It’s not you,” she assured her as she ran a hand through her long, dark hair. “Trudy’s been in a weird funk lately. Don’t take it personally.”

  Pamela smiled. “That’s what my soccer coach says when the other team is rude. It isn’t wise to take things personally from people who do not know us personally.”

  Meghan grinned. “You are wise for an eighteen-year old,” she told her. “It’s nice having you around. You remind me a bit of Lori, one of the girls who used to help me here.”

  Before Pamela could respond, the yellow door of the bakery flew open, sending the little bells attached to the door flying about. Claude Boucher strutted into the bakery, and Meghan nearly dropped the long, plastic tube she was using to ice the tarts. “Bonjour,” Claude called out as he smiled at Meghan and Pamela. “I hope I am not interrupting anything important.”

  Meghan’s mouth was agape, and she could not form a coherent thought. She remembered Claude’s appearance on the news the previous week, and the announcement that her bakery had been chosen to provide the treats for the ball, but after hearing nothing, she had forgotten about the excitement. Now, as Claude stood before her in her bakery, Meghan’s face grew red, and her hands began to shake.

  “We’re just finishing these tarts,” Pamela informed Claude as she handed him one. “Would you like to try one? I modified the recipe, but Meghan says they are some of the best she has ever had.”

  Claude looked from Pamela to Meghan. “I would love to sample one of the tarts, but first, I must know: who is the owner of this quaint little bakery? Where can I find the proprietor?”

  Meghan stuttered, unable to maintain her composure around the famous chef. ‘“It’s….it’s….it’s….”

  “It’s her,” Pamela said matter-of-factly as she pointed to Meghan. “She owns the bakery. I just started helping out last week.”

  Claude reached for Meghan’s right hand and drew it to his lips. A chill ran down Meghan’s spine as he kissed her hand, and she could feel her cheeks growing warm. “Meghan Truman, it is truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance. No one told me how lovely you would be, and I am so happy to finally meet you.”

  Meghan stared at Claude. “Nice….nice….nice….to...nice to….”

  Pamela looked confusedly at Meghan, and then she took Claude’s hand. “Meghan is happy to meet you, and so I am. You have an accent. Where are you from?”

  Claude graciously smiled at Pamela. “I am from Paris. I am a chef there, young lady, and from the looks of things, you are a little chef as well.”

  Pamela grinned. “I help Meghan here with odds and ends, but I hope to be doing more baking in the future. For now, though, I am late for soccer practice. Meghan, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Meghan stared as Pamela tore off her soiled apron and dashed out of the front door. Claude returned his attention to Meghan and grinned. “Meghan Truman, I have some very exciting news for you. Have you heard of the Governor’s Ball? It is the premiere event in the Pacific Northwest.”

  Meghan nodded, still struggling to speak, but Claude continued, “this year, we are sourcing our catering from local vendors,” he explained to her. “We have searched near and far, and the planning committee has decided that your bakery will be providing desserts for the event, if you are open to the idea. Kirsty Fisher spoke very highly of you, and after reading the excellent reviews you have received after only months of your business being open, we cannot pass up the opportunity to work with you. What do you say? Will you provide the desserts for the ball, Meghan? Oh, say yes!”

  Meghan nodded enthusiastically. “Yes,” she told Claude, thankful that she at least could manage to answer the most important question she had been asked in her professional career. “Yes.”

  “Very good,” Claude declared as he snatched her hand and planted another kiss on it. “With that, I must go. I will be in touch regarding the event. Take care, Meghan.”

  Before she could process Claude’s visit and her good fortune, her tall, handsome boyfriend, Jack, burst into the bakery waving two pieces of paper in the air. “Meghan, I did it,” he shouted in delight as he sprinted to where Meghan stood in the middle of the dining room. “Hey, I did it!”

  Meghan shook her head, her mind still clouded with the impact of Claude’s visit. “What? Jac
k, what are you talking about? What did you do?”

  Jack’s blue eyes danced with excitement, and he took Meghan’s hands in his. “I scored two tickets to the ball, Meghan. We’re going to the Governor’s Ball.”

  Meghan raised an eyebrow. “Are you working security for the event or something?

  Jack shook his head. “No, Meghan,” he said as he squeezed her hands. “We’re attending the event! This detective is off-duty for the ball. I just want a night of fun with my girl, and this is going to be an amazing event.”

  Meghan pulled her hands from Jack’s. “I don’t understand,” she told him. “The tickets are five-thousand dollars, Jack. I know that you received that promotion a few months ago, but detectives can’t afford that kind of ticket. The ball is important; all of the proceeds go to charity, but I do not want you to go into a financial hole just to make me happy.”