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.
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.” seating chart for general jackson showboat
And the seating chart, as the river rats whispered, was a death warrant. At breakfast, a deckhand found Silk Thornton slumped