Page 24 of Cruel Christmas Cruise (Cruising Through Midlife: Cruise Ship Cozy Mysteries #12)

F amily Group Chat

Trixie: The British Isles have the most AMAZING gift shops. I found presents for everyone!

Abbey: Please tell me you didn’t buy me something with the King’s face on it.

Parker: I bet she found crime scene-themed gifts. Our family Christmas is about to get morbid.

Stanton: Like the crime scene tape she got me for my birthday. “For future use,” she said.

Trixie: That was practical and you know it.

Emerson: Dad, what are you getting Trixie? After solving all those murders, the bar is high.

Ransom: Something that doesn’t involve dead bodies would be nice.

Neelie: Stanton already gave me my gift. He bought me the CUTEST charm bracelet! Each charm is from one of our adventures!

Trixie: Does one represent the time he forgot your birthday?

Stanton: That was ONE time. And we’d only been dating for a few months.

Abbey: Mom, did solving a murder make your Christmas list?

Trixie: It wasn’t on my list, but it’s certainly a gift that keeps on giving.

Parker: I saw that Mom was browsing “How to Get Away with Murder” books. Ransom, are you concerned?

Trixie: It’s RESEARCH. For my blog.

Ransom: Her assistance on my cases is always unexpected.

Emerson: What Dad means is she solves the case while he fills out the paperwork.

Neelie: We should ALL go on a cruise together next Christmas! Wouldn’t that be FUN?!

Everyone: NO.

Day 9 = Final Sea Day

It’s the very last day of the cruise, a day spent at sea where Bess, Nettie, and I made far too many trips to the ship's soft serve ice cream machine (I’ve lost count after seven), partook in a game of ’80s trivia where Nettie somehow knew every obscene lyric but couldn’t remember who sang “Take on Me,” took in high tea in the Seahorse Lounge complete with finger sandwiches and scones that could have been crafted by angels, and then played a rousing game of bingo where Bess nearly started a riot when someone called B-7 instead of B-6.

We also squeezed in some deck chair lounging while watching dolphins race alongside the ship, a cooking demonstration where the chef made flambéed something-or-other that nearly singed Nettie's eyebrows, and a mandatory stop at the photo gallery where we discovered at least twelve unflattering candid shots of ourselves from the week. The afternoon entertainment featured a magician who made a woman’s husband disappear—temporarily, though she looked hopeful it might be permanent—and we ended with cocktails on the promenade deck while watching the sun paint the sky in shades of pink and gold that no Instagram filter could improve upon.

But it’s evening now and we’ve all donned our best sparkling gowns for tonight’s dress-your-best festivities. But those aren’t the only festivities on the ship. It’s officially Christmas Eve and Wes has invited us all to have a little holiday fun with his classmates for one last time.

We step into the party and gasp. The Grand Mariner’s Ballroom right here aboard the Emerald Queen has transformed into a winter wonderland that would make the North Pole look understated.

Thousands of twinkle lights drip from the ceiling like stars fallen to Earth. Garlands of holly and silver tinsel wrap every available surface, and the air swirls with the scents of cinnamon, spice, and everything nice.

On top of that, there’s enough snow, reindeer, and elves to ensure we don’t forget it’s most the magical season of them all.

The crowd is thick with glittering bodies all dolled up for a night to remember, Christmas carols coo from the speakers, and the scent of something savory and deep-fried has more than garnered my attention, but at the moment I can’t stop taking in all of the Christmas décor festooning the room.

At the center of it all stands a twenty-foot Christmas tree adorned with ornaments from ports around the world, each one catching and scattering light across the dance floor.

And just behind that a gold sign is draped from one end of the ballroom to the other that reads Welcome to the Carrington Academy 40 th Class Reunion! Merry Christmas Eve!

“Tinsley and her team have really outdone themselves,” I say, adjusting the bodice of my emerald gown—Elodie’s latest rescue mission from the ship’s boutique. “It looks like the North Pole relocated here overnight.”

Ransom nods. “Wait until you see the ice sculpture,” he says with his hand warm on the small of my back. Ransom looks arresting in his tuxedo. In fact, he looks like he stepped out of a James Bond movie—if Bond carried concealed weapons to Christmas parties. Hey, I guess that makes me a Bond girl!

“It’s a life-sized sleigh with eight reindeer,” he continues.

“Of course, it is.” I laugh as I turn toward the expansive buffet and spot the ice sculpture smack in the middle of it. And life-size it is. “ Geez . I guess Tinsley isn’t one to scrimp on holiday spirit.”

Bess tips her head. “Which is surprising considering what a Grinch she can be.”

Nettie nods. “Today, Tinsley Thornton discovered the meaning of Christmas. Tomorrow, hell freezes over and pigs achieve flight certification.”

We share a dark laugh on Tinsley’s behalf before the buffet snags our attention once again.

The grand buffet stretches the length of the ballroom like an edible holiday parade, offering a Christmas Eve feast fit for royalty.

Glistening crown roasts of lamb garnished with rosemary sprigs and cranberry jewels call out to us.

While honey-glazed hams, spiral-cut and studded with cloves, sit beside slow-roasted prime rib so tender it looks as if it hardly requires a knife.

A tower of poached lobster tails cascades over crushed ice, accompanied by silver bowls of clarified butter.

And, oh my heart, I’m suddenly motivated to turn my stomach into an aquarium.

Traditional English favorites abound—crispy Yorkshire puddings nestled in pools of rich gravy, Brussels sprouts caramelized with chestnuts and bacon, and buttery mashed potatoes piped into festive rosettes. And the Beef Wellington is wrapped in a pastry so golden it reflects the chandeliers above.

The seafood section boasts oysters on the half shell, platters of smoked salmon garnished with capers and thinly sliced red onion, and delicate crab cakes paired with saffron aioli.

And then there’s an entire station dedicated to charcuterie—Italian prosciutto, French patés, and British cheeses arranged like a cartographer’s dream.

Next to the grand buffet, there’s a dessert spread that looks equally as scrumptious. The centerpiece is a traditional English Christmas pudding, set aflame with brandy that burns blue against the dimmed lights.

Towers of French macarons in Christmas colors abound, while gingerbread cookies shaped like sailors and cruise ships add a nautical touch to the holiday theme.

Crème br?lée, its caramelized top waiting to be cracked, sits alongside Wes’ grandmother’s sticky toffee pudding glistening with butterscotch sauce.

Spoiler alert: the sticky toffee pudding is going fast. And don’t think for a minute I plan on missing out.

The pièce de résistance is a Yule log that must be six feet long, elaborately decorated with chocolate bark, meringue mushrooms, and delicate sugar snowflakes that sparkle under the chandeliers.

Ransom’s phone buzzes and manages to break the culinary spell before we can properly graze the offerings.

His expression shifts as he reads the message. And just like that, all traces of holiday cheer evaporate.

“What is it?”

“It’s Quinn letting me know we got the info we were waiting for,” he says with a sigh. “I pulled some strings with my FBI contacts. Got access to Alec’s financial records. They don’t match what Shepherd Industries has been reporting.”

I inch back. “You mean the insider trading Ginger mentioned?”

“Exactly. We’re looking at serious SEC violations that could bring down his entire company.” His face is grim. “Missy must have found out somehow. Quinn also found a payment from Alec to a private investigator two days before Missy died.”

My heart stutters in my chest. “You think?—”

“I need to see these records myself.” Ransom glances around the crowded ballroom. “Quinn’s waiting for me in the security office. Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

“I think I can manage not to get murdered at a Christmas party with three hundred witnesses,” I assure him, although my attempt at levity falls flat. Face it, I’ve attracted the Grim Reaper with far more of a crowd.

He presses a quick kiss on my cheek. “Twenty minutes, tops. Stay in public areas.”

“Where have I heard that before?” I sigh as he slips away through the crowd.

I hardly get the words out before a whirlwind of sequins and perfume descends upon Bess, Nettie, and me.

“There you are!” Elodie exclaims, looking resplendent in a scarlet dress that makes her look like a glamorous gift box.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you three wenches.

” She gives me an approving once-over. “Oh, come on, you can’t possibly stand here alone looking mysterious and gorgeous all night. We need to hit that dance floor.”

Bess raises a brow my way. “Although you do mysterious so well.”

“It’s her natural state,” Nettie adds while snapping a glass from a roving waiter. Its contents look alarmingly blue and garnished with what appears to be a candy cane. “The rest of us worry about things like fun and festivity, while Trixie contemplates murder suspects over canapés.”

“Multi-tasking is my superpower,” I say, accepting the champagne flute Bess suddenly offers me from yet another roving waiter. “Though tonight I might take a break from crime-solving. It is Christmas Eve, after all. The only one working should be Santa.”

Bess snorts. “That’s just like a man to consider working one night a year the epitome of dedication.”

“And then expect cookies as a reward,” I add.

“Speaking of Christmas,” Elodie says, her eyes dancing with devilish delight, “have you seen Captain Santa?”