Page 21 of Cruel Christmas Cruise (Cruising Through Midlife: Cruise Ship Cozy Mysteries #12)

“ B eautiful day for castle-gazing,” I say as I sidle up to Theo Frost, who startles slightly at my approach.

The stone windowsill is cold beneath my fingertips, and outside, the Edinburgh landscape unfolds like a moody watercolor painting—all misty greens and grays punctuated by spires and ancient rooftops.

Before Theo can respond, Joy and Dash materialize beside us with their usual dramatic flair, glowing blue against the ancient stone as if they were auditioning for the castle’s official haunting staff.

“Let’s see what story he spins,” Joy murmurs, crossing her translucent arms.

“Ten bucks says he throws Alec under the bus in under two minutes,” Dash adds.

“Aren’t you with the crew from the Emerald Queen ?” Theo asks, and his smile warms despite the biting chill wafting through the stone window.

“I am,” I tell him. “Just enjoying a day off the ship. I’m a good friend of the captain’s. Are you having a good time in Edinburgh?”

“As good as can be expected,” he says with a sigh that would win him an Oscar—that is, if he’s lying.

“And Wes is a good guy. You have a great captain at the helm.” He gives a wistful tick of the head.

“I was just admiring the foliage in the courtyard. I took a few quick pictures to send to my brother.”

“Oh? Is he into horticulture?”

“You can say that. He’s a botanical researcher at a university back in Maine.”

“Small world,” I say. “I’m from Maine as well.” I give a little shrug. “I just wanted to hop over and say that I hope you’re able to make the best of the trip. And I can see you are. I’m sure your brother will enjoy the pictures. The grounds are lovely here.”

“He will.” He nods. “And even though it’s a lovely cruise, I’ll admit, I’m having a bit of a rough time with the death of our friend. But along with everyone else, I’m trying to make the best of it. What’s that saying—the show must go on?”

“Or the cruise, in this case,” I offer.

“Exactly.” His smile turns mournful as he gazes out at the Scottish terrain. “Missy would have loved this place. She had a thing for castles. She said they reminded her of the walls people build around themselves.”

“That’s surprisingly philosophical for a gossip columnist.” I wince when I say it because I didn’t mean to throw her character under the bus—or the castle as it were.

“Missy had hidden depths.” He gives a warm laugh at the thought. “Did you know her?”

“I just met her briefly before she died,” I say, wincing once again. “Did you know her well?”

“Since we were kids.” He nods. “We all grew up together at Carrington—the whole reunion group is basically family. I’ll admit, Missy was complicated. Brilliant but ruthless. She had this uncanny ability to spot people’s weaknesses.”

“Like a shark smelling blood,” Joy mutters.

“I hear she was quite the journalist,” I prompt. And quite the gossip, but I think that’s a given at this point.

“Journalist is a generous term.” Theo chuckles and his teeth flash as if someone was turning on and off a lamp in his mouth.

He’s a looker. I’m lucky Elodie isn’t here to gobble him up.

In fact, I’m shocked she hasn’t already.

“Missy was more like an information broker,” he continues with a good-natured laugh.

“She really knew how to find dirt on just about anyone. It’s what made her podcast so successful”—he ticks his head to the side—“and it’s what probably got her killed. ”

“Any idea on who may have done the deadly deed?” I do my best to keep my tone conversational, but I think we both know I want to shake the answer out of him.

“I have my suspicions.” He lowers his voice and gives a quick glance over my shoulder. “Rumors have been swirling that Holly’s charity has been making some very interesting wire transfers to offshore accounts.”

Dash clears his throat—rather aggressively.

Theo nods. “And I’m hearing that Alec’s company has been under SEC investigation three times in the last five years.”

“He’s lying,” Dash growls. “Alec ran his business cleaner than anyone I knew.”

“And Holly’s charity work is impeccable,” Joy adds. “I was on the board with her.”

It’s clear our gleaming-toothed suspect has hit a raw nerve.

“Wow,” I say to Theo, ignoring my spectral fact-checkers for now. “Those accusations sound pretty serious.”

“Oh, they are,” he agrees. “And to make things worse, Missy had evidence on both of them. In fact, she told me the night before she died that she was planning to include a juicy tidbit about those two in her holiday podcast special. She said it would be her Christmas gift to the world.”

“She did?” I gasp without meaning to. But if that’s true, it looks pretty damning for those two. “Missy actually told you this herself?”

He gives a quick nod. “We were at a bar in London. She’d had a few drinks—it always made her more forthcoming.

She mentioned something about Holly and Alec having a secret relationship, too.

Apparently, they’ve been seeing each other for months, despite their claims that they’re just friends out of respect for their dead spouses.

” He makes air quotes as he says that last part and both Joy and Dash groan.

“That’s ridiculous,” Joy bristles beside me. “Holly would never?—”

“Alec has barely looked at another woman since Joy died,” Dash interrupts with a sigh. “Believe me, we’re rooting for those two, and we know for a fact Theo is playing fast and loose with the truth.”

I nod his way before looking back at the handsome suspect at hand.

“They do seem pretty cozy.” I decide to play along—even if it is the truth. “But that hardly seems like a motive for murder.”

“Unless they were worried about how it would look.” Theo shrugs as he gives a little laugh. “Their spouses were best friends, you know. They died just within months of each other. And then they hook up? People might start asking questions.”

My mouth falls open at the implication.

“That’s completely absurd.” Joy rolls her eyes as her entire being lights up a fiery shade of red.

“What kind of questions?” I press on.

Theo shrugs once again. “Who knows? But people with secrets tend to do desperate things to keep them hidden. Speaking of secrets,” he continues as he casts another glance out at the crowd, “have you heard about the Gossip Ghost messages? Someone’s been sending anonymous texts to everyone from our class for years. ”

“Wes did share that with me.” I offer a pained smile. “They seem pretty brutal. And I’m so sorry they’ve been tormenting you for so long. Any idea who’s behind them?”

He lifts a finger. “Well?—”

“There you are!” Elodie’s voice cuts through our conversation rather abruptly as she materializes at my side. She gives Theo an appreciative once-over that practically qualifies as a physical exam. “Trixie, you’ve been holding out on me. Who’s your handsome friend?”

“Theo Frost,” he introduces himself as he perks up and quickly extends a hand that Elodie takes with predatory enthusiasm. Took her long enough. Her radar must be waning, the cruise is almost over.

“Elodie Abernathy,” she purrs as she practically reels him in. “I’m the ship’s fashion advisor and connoisseur of—fine craftsmanship.” She runs her gaze down his cashmere-clad form. “That sweater fits you like a second skin. Scottish, actually?”

“When in Rome,” he says with a laugh. “Or Edinburgh, in this case.”

“Smart and stylish. A lethal combination.” Elodie’s smile hints at appetites that would make a wolf pack seem restrained. “Have you seen the Crown Jewels exhibit yet? It’s in a particularly... secluded part of the castle.”

Theo raises a brow and looks ever so hopeful at the same time. “I haven’t had the pleasure,” he admits.

“I’d be happy to give you a private tour.” Elodie pulls him close. “I’m something of an expert on precious stones and where to find them. Have I mentioned that I specialize in pleasure?”

“Is she always this subtle?” Theo laughs my way.

“This is actually her showing restraint,” I’m quick to tell him. “You should see her during a designer shoe sale. There are less aggressive feeding frenzies in piranha tanks.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Elodie grins. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Trixie, I’m about to educate Mr. Frost here on the finer points of Scottish... architecture .”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I call after them as Elodie practically drags Theo toward a dark corridor.

“That leaves her a disturbingly wide range of options,” Dash observes.

I frown his way. Has he been spying on Ransom and me? It’s not our fault the ship is filled with all sorts of dark nooks and crannies. Not to mention the fact we’re newlyweds. And have you seen Ransom? That man is a testament to testosterone all on his own.

Joy swoops in close. “Could you believe all those accusations about Holly and Alec? He’s incredulous. It’s classic misdirection.”

That—or he’s telling the truth. But I don’t think those words would go over too well with this crowd.

Joy and Dash zoom off without so much of a goodbye and I head back toward the Santa display, where Bess and Nettie have finally reached the front of the line. And what I see stops me dead in my tracks.

Nettie is engaged in what appears to be an intense negotiation with Scottish kilt-wearing Santa, whose jolly demeanor has given way to visible discomfort. Bess stands nearby, her expression wavering between mortification and resignation.

“All I’m saying is, there’s a lot of unused space in that sack of yours,” Nettie practically shouts at the man as I approach. “And I’ve been very good this year—well, good is relative, but I haven’t been convicted of anything, which at my age counts for something.”

“Give it time,” Bess mutters.

“Madam, I cannot put a castle guard in my sack for you,” Santa replies with admirable patience. “There are laws against that sort of thing.”

“What about his phone number?” Nettie bargains. “Surely phone numbers are within Santa’s gift-giving jurisdiction?”

“Nettie,” Bess hisses. “We are in a historic landmark surrounded by children. Could you please stop trying to kidnap men via Santa?”

“I’m not kidnapping,” Nettie huffs at her bestie. “I’m recruiting. For holiday festivities.”

A castle security guard approaches, and judging by the look on his face, we’re about to be banned from Scotland faster than you can say Highland fling .

“Is everything all right over here?” he gruffs.

“Perfectly fine,” I’m quick to assure him. “My friend here just gets excited about Christmas traditions.” Especially those in kilts.

“She asked Santa to deliver a man to her room wearing nothing but a bow,” a woman behind us in line says flatly.

The three of us shoot her a look that screams tattletale .

“The bow is optional,” Nettie clarifies.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you ladies to leave,” the guard continues, unmoved by Nettie’s explanation.

Nettie gags at the thought. “Over a simple gift request? I didn’t realize Scotland was so prudish.” She crosses her arms defiantly. “I thought this was the land of Braveheart. What happened to freedom?”

“Nettie, that was a movie,” Bess chokes out the words. “About the thirteenth century. And he died at the end!”

“Details, details.” Nettie waves her off.

But that doesn’t seem to change the guard’s mind about anything. In fact, he looks increasingly stern. “If you could please?—”

“I’ll handle this,” Ransom’s voice cuts in as he approaches, badge in hand.

“Oh, thank goodness.” I sigh with a breath of relief. If we’re going to get arrested by anyone, it might as well be him. In fact, I prefer it.

“Security Chief Baxter from the Emerald Queen of the Seas .” He gives a curt nod to both Santa and the guard at hand. “I apologize for any disturbance. I’ll escort these ladies out myself.”

The guard seems more than happy—and more than a bit relieved—to hand off the problem. “Thank you, sir. Please ensure they don’t return.”

Ransom speeds us toward the exit and his expression hovers somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “I lose sight of you for twenty minutes and you get thrown out of one of Scotland’s most historic landmarks. That might be a new record.”

“In my defense,” Nettie says, “that Santa was asking for it. He kept saying ho, ho, ho .”

“That’s his job,” Bess practically shouts as she tosses her arms in exasperation.

“On the bright side,” I add, “I got some interesting information from Theo before Elodie dragged him off to examine his... crown jewels.”

“Anything useful?” Ransom asks as we step out into the misty Scottish afternoon.

“He’s working overtime to make Holly and Alec look guilty.” I leave out the part that they actually might be.

“Interesting,” Ransom muses. “Quinn has been following up on those messages from the Gossip Ghost. She thinks?—”

Before he can finish, his phone buzzes urgently. His features harden to stone as he reads the message.

“We need to get back to the ship. Now.”

“What’s happened?” I ask as my stomach drops to my feet.

“Security just discovered someone broke into Missy’s cabin and cleared out all of her belongings. Including her laptop and phone.”

“But those were evidence,” I protest.

Ransom’s expression turns grim. “Exactly. Whoever did this just erased our best chance of identifying them.”

I follow his gaze to where Wes’ classmates are gathered near the castle entrance, laughing and posing while a photographer captures their reunion memories.

The worst part? I have a feeling one of those smiling faces belongs to a killer.

I’m pretty sure someone in this picture just sanitized a crime scene. And they’re coming back to the ship with us. Because apparently, the only thing more dangerous than icebergs in these waters is the passenger manifest.