Page 24 of Viking Vengeance Cruise

“So,” I say, taking a sip of my wine. “Magnus told me a few interesting things about Astrid before Ransom burst in and the ghost turned theatrical.”

“His name is Magnus.” Nettie swoons. Actually swoons, hand fluttering to her chest, the full production. “Magnus. Does it get any better than that?”

“Magnus Darkwater,” I confirm. “Full name. And did I mention he has abs for days?”

More swooning from Nettie. A little from Bess, too, though she’s hiding hers behind her wineglass and failing at a professional level.

“I heard nothing,” Bess announces to the table. “And I’d like to hear it again.”

Marina laughs, warm and genuine. “You two are a riot.”

“Thank you.” Nettie accepts the title with a regal nod. “One woman on her own is only a disturbance,” she says, hooking a thumb at Bess. “It takes the pair of us to qualify as a riot. We checked.”

“There was paperwork,” Bess adds.

I can neither confirm nor deny that I notarized it.

“What did Magnus tell you?” Bess asks, steering us back on course, because somebody at this table has to hold the wheel, and heaven knows it won’t be Nettie.

I set down my fork. “Astrid was a retired hospital administrator. She founded the Velvet Viking Book Club twelve years ago. She was independently wealthy thanks to her late husband’s inheritance⁠—”

“Was the husband hot?” Nettie cuts in.

“He’s deceased, Nettie.”

“That’s not a no.”

“So is Magnus,” Bess points out, “and look how well that’s working out for him.”

“As I was saying,” I press on, “according to Magnus, Astrid used every dime of that inheritance to keep the club under her thumb. She funded the cruises, but she demanded absolute loyalty in return.”

“Sounds like a peach,” Marina observes.

“A peach with a pit the size of a cannonball,” I say.

“That’s a woman with enemies,” Bess adds.

“And get this.” I lean in. “Magnus claims her perfect marriage was a lie.”

“A lie how?” Marina asks.

“He didn’t get the chance to finish before Ransom came through the door and Magnus decided the ceiling needed me more than the conversation did.” I shrug. “But it’s worth digging into.”

I know a thing or two about perfect marriages that turn out to be shams. Stanton made sure I got the full course. Also the lab, the pop quizzes, and all three of his teaching assistants.

Bess sets down her wineglass with a click that means business. “All right, so who’s up first?”

“Yeah,” Nettie says, excavating her mac and cheese as if the answer might be buried under the lobster. I somehow missed the fact she’s currently working on two different dinner plates. “Who are we shaking down, and can we make them confess by way of ice sculpture? I feel it’s only fitting.”

“Poetic justice,” Bess agrees.

“I still think she was poisoned,” I say. “The ice sculpture was simply dramatic punctuation.”

“Agreed.” Marina dabs her mouth with her napkin. “That blue cocktail was the murder weapon. The Viking finished the job.”

I nod. “Ransom says toxicology is already on it.”

“So we need to figure out who had access to her drink,” Bess says.