Seating Chart For General Jackson Showboat _best_ -

At breakfast, a deckhand found Silk Thornton slumped over Seat 17, a playing card—the ace of spades—pressed to his forehead. No wound, no blood, just a faint blue pallor and the smell of bitter almonds. Cyanide in his julep.

And the seating chart, as the river rats whispered, was a death warrant. seating chart for general jackson showboat

“Who sits there?” whispered a gambler. At breakfast, a deckhand found Silk Thornton slumped

Captain Bo feigned shock. He gathered the passengers in the saloon and pointed to the chart. “This is a tragedy,” he said. “But we are law-abiding folk. No one leaves until we find the killer.” He smiled thinly. “And to help us, I’ve rearranged the seating. New assignments at sundown.” And the seating chart, as the river rats

The showboat cast off at dusk. The first night was a blur of champagne and cancan dancers. But by the second morning, the seating chart began to sing.

Now the passengers understood. The seating chart wasn’t just a map of tables. It was a hit list. And the killer was rearranging it in real time.

The Accountant rose from Seat 2. He was unremarkable—gray suit, gray eyes, gray smile. “Correct,” he said. “But you’ve misread the fine print.” He tapped the chart. “Seat 17: $5,000 dead or alive. Seat 44: $10,000. Seat 89: $7,500. And Seat 2?” He glanced at Captain Bo, who was edging toward the paddlewheel. “Seat 2 is the buyer.”