And that, children, is why you never sit down before you read the fine print.
And the seating chart, as the river rats whispered, was a death warrant.
But Bo had a secret. He was also a debt collector for the Black Bayou Syndicate, and the seating chart was his ledger of damnation. Seat 17 (portside, near the sternwheel window) belonged to Silas “Silk” Thornton, a cardsharp who’d fled Memphis after a high-stakes game turned into a high-body-count affair. Seat 44 (center, under the blown-glass chandelier) was reserved for the Honorable Phineas Woolcott, a judge who’d hanged an innocent man and buried the evidence in a sugar crate. Seat 89 (the shadowy corner by the escape ladder) was for Mamzelle Célestine, a voodooienne who’d cursed a plantation family so thoroughly that their own hounds turned on them. seating chart for general jackson showboat
Mamzelle Célestine, now in Seat 89, tried to flee. She clawed at the escape ladder, but the rungs turned to copperheads in her hands. As she fell, she screeched: “Bo sold us! The chart is a bounty sheet! Every seat has a price!”
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. And that, children, is why you never sit
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.”
It began when Captain Beauregard “Bo” LaGrange, the showboat’s dandy impresario, unveiled the new saloon seating for the grand reopening. He’d painted a massive, gilded chart on a mahogany board: ninety-two seats arranged in a horseshoe around the stage. Each seat was assigned to a specific passenger for the voyage from Natchez to New Orleans. He was also a debt collector for the
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.