Page 6 of Holiday Cheese and Capers
“So, Exandra,” Zephyr said, accepting a small glass of something amber from Jasper’s tray. “Tell us about these incidents you mentioned.”
Exandra stroked Fred’s feathers, her expression carefully neutral. “Three fromageries have been hit in the past month. Different regions, different cheese styles, but the perp has had the same pattern every time. Either the cultures are compromised or the aging processes are disrupted. Nothing catastrophic, but it might be enough to threaten Yule cheese production. The Culture Vulture seems to have it in for the holidays.”
“Can you say anything more about this? What kind of compromises are we talking about?” Wren asked, pen poised expectantly over her notebook. Her journalist instincts were clearly engaged. “How odd that we haven’t heard anything about this in the mainstream magical news!”
“That’s not surprising.” Zephyr tutted. “You’d be shocked at the things that go unreported on a daily basis. We agents rarely speak to the press during an active investigation. Too dangerous. It compromises us and the case.”
Exandra shrugged and nodded. But she turned to Wren with a look of respect.
“What can I say without getting too specific…” Her voice was professional, detached, but not unkind. “I can say it’s always something that could be explained as an accident or negligence. But the timing is too coincidental, we think. Someone knows exactly what they’re doing.”
Bayard had gone very quiet, his fingers white-knuckled on his walking stick. “And you think... this tour might be targeted?”
“The fromagerie we’re visiting tomorrow was on a list of potential targets.” Exandra turned to look at him directly, and Minerva saw something flicker between them again. Concern, tension, or was it something else entirely? “I couldn’t risk anything happening to—I mean, I thought it best to be here. Just in case.”
“Quite right. I would have made the same call,” Zephyr said firmly. “Though I’m surprised the Society sent you alone. No partner on this mission? Isn’t that highly irregular?”
A muscle tightened in Exandra’s jaw. “Everyone else was either off for the holiday or already away on assignment. Orretired.” She spat out the “r” word like it left a terrible taste in her mouth. “There was nobody else. I had to come alone.”
“What a hardship for you that must be…” Bayard murmured, so quietly Minerva almost missed it.
“This is fascinating,” Wren said, writing rapidly. “I mean—not fascinating that someone’s sabotaging cheese production. That’s terrible. But from a story perspective…” She grinned apologetically.
“Perhaps we should try to keep this quiet?” Jasper interrupted nervously. “I mean, we don’t want to alarm the passengers. Orget bad press before Mr. Fontaine’s lecture series even properly starts.”
He shot an apologetic glance at Wren, who raised an eyebrow.
“I’m a journalist, not a gossip columnist,” she said coolly. “I know the difference between a story and fearmongering.”
“Right. Yes. Of course you do. I just meant—” Jasper’s ears turned red. “Sorry.”
“The boy’s right,” Exandra barked out, and Minerva noticed Jasper straighten slightly at being called “right” by someone so imposing. “No need to alarm everyone. I’ll investigate discreetly. Most passengers won’t even know I’m working.”
“I think it’s a little late for that,” Minerva commented. “Given your dramatic arrival. The other passengers are not simpletons. They already know something’s up.”
“And what if something happens at tomorrow’s fromagerie?” Bayard asked. His voice was steady, but Minerva could see the tension in his shoulders.
“Then I’ll handle it.” Exandra’s tone brooked no argument. “That’s what I do, Bayard. It’s what we’ve always done and what I intend to keep doing, with or without you.”
The words hung in the air between them, weighted with history Minerva didn’t fully understand. Zephyr clearly did, though. His expression had grown wary as his gaze moved between his two old colleagues.
Fred quacked softly, and Exandra looked down at him. “Don’t worry, darling. I definitely won’t let anything happen to you. You are one of my top priorities. I even noted it in my brief. ‘Must protect Fred.’”
The gentleness in her voice when she spoke to the duck was so at odds with her professional demeanor that it made Minerva’s heart ache a little.
“Well,” Zephyr said, breaking the tension, “I for one am glad you’re here, Exandra. It’ll be like old times. The three of us on an adventure together.”
“If you can call it that,” Exandra said, but something in her expression softened. “Not much of an adventure, really, when we’re just babysitting some cheese cultures.”
“I don’t know, that sounds like the best kind of adventure to me,” Minerva chimed in. When Exandra’s cool gaze turned to her, she met it evenly. “I’ve found that the most interesting things happen when you’re paying attention to the small, important details, Agent Thorne. Cheese cultures. Bakery recipes. All those little traditions that hold communities together.”
For a moment, something like understanding flickered in Exandra’s eyes. Then she nodded curtly. “Quite.”
Suddenly a melodious, magical chime that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere sounded through the ship’s PA system.
“That’s the signal for evening turndown service,” Jasper said. “We should head to our cabins. We’ll fly through the night and arrive at the Alpine fromagerie by morning.”
“So we’re actually going to be flying, not sailing?” Wren asked, looking intrigued.
