Page 32 of Viking Vengeance Cruise

That’s the trouble with this inadvertent sleuthing hobby of mine. You start liking people right before you have to accuse them of murder.

“This is a blast,” one of the book club members shouts. “You ladies should join us for more events!”

“Done,” Nettie says without hesitation.

“We’ll consider it,” Bess translates.

“I already said done, but good try, Bessie.”

As the group starts drifting toward the third café, I spot Sienna slipping away down a narrow side street, moving with purpose.

Perfect.

I’m two steps into my pursuit when Marina appears beside me, her electronic notebook conspicuously absent. “Not without me, you don’t,” she says firmly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I grin her way. “Now let’s go see what our friend Sienna is up to.”

Somewhere between Copenhagen and this cobblestone street, Marina traded her iPad for a magnifying glass, and I can’t say I mind the upgrade.

We head down the side street together, leaving Bess and Nettie behind to entertain the Velvet Vikings with further commentary on fictional men while gobbling up all the pastries they can get their hands on.

It turns out solving murders in Sweden requires a buddy system, excellent cinnamon buns, and a willingness to follow suspects through charming historic districts.

Time to question my first suspect.

With any luck, she’ll be my last.

CHAPTER 8

Marina and I are tailing Sienna Caldwell through Haga, where the cobblestone streets twist with one goal in mind—losing tourists.

The streets are winning, for the record. Two more turns and I’ll need a trail of cinnamon bun crumbs to find my way back, and knowing this crowd, the crumbs would be gone before I finished dropping them.

Everything is so darn cute here. Sweden is a treasure, and Haga is one of its crown jewels. If a village and a bakery had a baby and raised it on flower boxes, this is what you’d get.

A shimmer of silver stars lights up on my left.

Magnus Darkwater materializes beside me in full ghostly Viking glory—bare chest, fur cloak, and boots that make no sound whatsoever on the cobblestones. He’s grinning at the two of us as if he just stumbled onto an unguarded dessert buffet and fully intends to sample every last thing on it. Twice.

“Ladies,” he purrs. “I heard there was a pursuit afoot and came as fast as I could. Which is very fast. I’m known throughout Valhalla for my stamina. Feel free to spread that around.”

Wonderful. My spectral sidekick has arrived, and finally, I might add. I’ve been trying to pin this man down since breakfast. Ghosts keep terrible office hours, and this one doesn’t keep any at all. That said, his timing is impeccable in the worst possible way. I have a feeling Magnus has a habit of making things worse before he makes them better. But boy, I’d love for him to prove me wrong.

A girl can dream. Usually about pastry, but today I’m diversifying.

I grab Marina’s arm and loop it through mine.

“What—?” she starts.

“Just go with it,” I mutter. “You’ll understand in a second.”

During our last cruise, I briefed Marina on the fact that if she’s touching me, she can hear the ghosts as well as I can. Think of it as a game of telephone. A very, very long-distance call, and somebody skipped out on the bill about a thousand years ago.

Magnus belts out a roar.

So unnecessary.

Marina gasps. “Is someone... am I hearing...?”