Let me just start by saying this: nothing, and I mean nothing, will emotionally prepare you for the experience of hearing a Viking-themed rom-com filmed inside a historic Cambridge church… starring a washed-up diva who gets shanked with a prop dagger before she can even nail the climax. This book said, “You want Hollywood glamor? You’ll get death by historically inaccurate cutlery instead.” And honestly? Fair.
Death and the Final Cut is book seven in the St. Just series. Yes, we’re rolling in mid-series like the unhinged chaos goblins we are, and no, I will not apologize. The murder takes place mid-filming of Viking Bride (Oscar bait for people with head injuries), and the victim is none other than Agnes Dermont: fading starlet, chaos magnet, and professional line-forgetter. When she gets stabbed on set with a real-deal Viking knife, everyone’s shocked, but also like… not that shocked. The woman was two tantrums away from being publicly exorcised.
Enter Detective Chief Inspector Arthur St. Just, who feels less like a modern cop and more like he time-traveled here from 1952 wearing a perfectly pressed tweed coat and a judgmental stare. He’s methodical, polished, and exactly the kind of man who says things like “a rather unfortunate development” when someone gets murdered in front of a camera crew.
Now, I did listen to this one, so let’s talk about the real MVP: Lorna Bennett. Her narration was smooth, elegant, and bless her, she gave every character just enough flair to tell them apart without going full improv night at the Renaissance Fair. She gave Agnes the exact kind of dramatic, overly-enunciated grandeur of a woman who thinks every take is her Oscar moment, and I loved her for that.
Here’s the thing. I didn’t hate it. In fact, the setup was delightful. There’s an entire buffet of suspects, bitter co-stars, scorned directors, one exhausted caterer just trying to make it through the shoot without becoming the next victim. It’s giving Knives Out if everyone had to wear Viking cosplay from Spirit Halloween. But after all that delicious setup, the mystery itself lands with a shrug. You can spot the killer like... weirdly early. Like, “oh, we’re doing that” early. And then the last quarter of the book just sort of... wanders off into motive monologues and timeline math and loses the pulse a bit. Not dead, just napping.
And while St. Just is technically the lead, the book is so ensemble-heavy that he feels like a guest star on his own show. I wanted more of him, more of Sergeant Fear (yes, that’s his real name, and no, he is not in a metal band), and less of the side characters who felt like they wandered in from a local theater production of Murder on the High Seas. A lot of them blurred together, even with Bennett’s solid narration, and I kept forgetting who was jealous of who, or who got blackballed in what decade.
But here's the real tea. Even though it was kind of mid, I will keep listening to this series. Because this is cozy mystery brain candy, a little stale, a little weird, but still enjoyable if you’re in the mood for something familiar that doesn’t ask too much of your remaining brain cells. Like a Hallmark movie, but British and with more blood.
Whodunity Award: For Most Dramatic Death Caused by a Misused Prop Since Phantom of the Opera
Thank you to Dreamscape Media and NetGalley for the early access to this audiobook. I felt like an underpaid extra who somehow snuck onto the murder set before the body dropped. An absolute delight.