Page 11 of Holiday Cheese and Capers
Lukas had his hands on one, his eyes closed, listening to something only a master cheesemaker could hear. “They’re... they’re all right. The cultures survived. We caught it in time.”
The relief in the tasting room was palpable. Anja burst into tears, and Lukas pulled her close. Several of the tour passengers were hugging each other. Jasper looked like he might pass out.
“You don’t think,” Wren asked cautiously, “that this Culture Vulture might still be here, hiding in the caves?”
“Impossible,” Exandra said, reappearing in the tasting room again. “That’s not their MO. Besides, whoever did this wouldn’t risk sticking around for the meltdown. Have you ever smelled that much spoilt cheese?” She grimaced and waved a hand in front of her face, banishing the idea of that smell.
“Thank you,” Anja said, wiping her eyes. “Thank you all so much. Without you, all those families, all those traditions we cherish—they would have been ruined.”
“We’ll send a special crate to your shop,” Lukas added. “The Squeaky Wheel, yes? Our finest wheels. It’s the least we can do.”
Minerva smiled warmly. “That’s very kind, but we were happy to help.”
“You saved the Yule,” Anja insisted. “That deserves more than kind words.”
Exandra sat down heavily at one of the tables and helped herself to a wedge of cheese and a hunk of bread. Despite herself, her eyes closed as she chewed. She nearly moaned with pleasure at the taste of the delicious cheese. No wonder people were so crazy about the stuff.
“You okay, Agent?” Zephyr teased.
“I’m fine,” Exandra snapped. “Just a little peckish. I skipped breakfast.” As she emerged from her momentary reverie, she resumed her normal, impassive expression. Her voice was hardened again when she spoke.
”I’ll need to file a complete report. This was a deliberate sabotage, clearly meant to destroy the Yule production. The Culture Vulture is more brazen than we thought.”
She glanced toward the alcove where Minerva and Zephyr still stood, and an odd look flashed across her face—frustration? Disappointment? Jealousy? It was gone so quickly, Minerva almost missed it.
“Thanks for handling the problem, Zeph,” Exandra said, her voice carefully neutral. “I was just coming back down to?—”
“You should thank my bride, not me, don’t you think?” Zephyr asked. “Minerva’s keen senses detected the problems before any of their fancy equipment did.” He placed an arm around Minerva’s shoulders. “She’s quite remarkable. It’s not the first time her wonderful instincts have saved the day.”
Exandra’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Yes. Of course. Great work, mouse lady. Very... efficient.”
She stood and turned stiffly to head back to the entrance. Bayard watched her go, brow furrowed, his expression a mix of bewilderment and worry. He waited till everyone else left before following her out.
The tripback toThe Celestine Queenwas subdued. Before they climbed into the sleds that were waiting to tender them back to the ship, Lukas and Anja pressed gifts on them—small wheels of their standard Gruyère, and gratitude that bordered on overwhelming.
Wren had photographed everything. She’d captured the control room damage, the rescued cheese wheels, the relief on Anja’s face, Minerva and Zephyr standing together after the magical work. Now she sat snuggled in warm blankets in the sled, sipping hot cider and reviewing her shots, occasionally showing one to Jasper, who leaned in close to see the small screen.
“You got some good ones,” he said. “This one of the cheesemakers hugging. Goodness! The relief on their faces. You can imagine exactly what they almost lost.”
“Thank goodness it turned out okay.” Wren scrolled through more images. “I got far more of a story than I expected today. I’m not even sure how I’ll write about it.”
As evening felland the ship prepared to depart, Bayard found Exandra standing alone on the deck. She was staring out at the Alps, which were turning purple in the fading light.
“Exandra.”
She didn’t turn. “I’m writing up my report shortly. But you should know that my initial findings suggest organized sabotage with knowledge of cheesemaking processes. The perpetrator had to know exactly which controls to disable, exactly how to?—”
“You don’t really think there’s a Culture Vulture, do you?” Bayard interrupted, his voice strained. He couldn’t believe what she was saying. “I mean, beyond that trouble upstream that I reported to the director. You knew that was me who called it in, right? I thought maybe it was a prankster, someone playing silly games. I never imagined it might be something more...” He gripped his cane tighter.
What had he been thinking when he made up that crazy story?
But he knew the answer. He’d been thinking, no,hoping, that if there was some sort of threat, Exandra might want to join them on the tour. He never once imagined that the threat he’d made up might really exist. Careful what you wish for, indeed!
“What do you mean,do I really think there’s a Culture Vulture?” Exandra narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you suggesting, Bayard Fontaine?”
”Nothing, nothing at all…” Bayard waved a hand in the air. “If it is something after all, I guess I’m glad you’re here. Truly. I just hope you’re not too inconvenienced. I didn’t think they’d send one of their best agents out, especially during the holidays. This must be more serious than I realized.”
Exandra’s shoulders stiffened. When at last she turned to face him, her eyes were bright. Whether that was with anger or unshed tears, he couldn’t tell.
