Dead and Buried

By Patti Larsen

Hello there, Ms. Popularity

The older woman waved with happy enthusiasm from the other side of the restaurant patio’s railing, beaming a smile in my direction as she walked past. I waved back, though I knew my smile had to look strained. Thing was, I had no clue—none in the living world, or the dead one for that matter—who she was. Was there some history I’d failed to recall? I’d only been living on Whitewitch Island for two weeks now. The chances I’d encountered her in my previous life as a Guild Artemis inquisitor fell to the wayside since she didn’t magical in any way.

Thing was, it had been a rather common occurrence since I’d assisted local sheriff Harriet Quinn in solving the cluster of murders—and an older mystery, too. Random residents shared their over-eager greetings, happy to welcome me with smiles and waves and thumbs up while I did my best not to be a weirdo about my returned responses.

Whatever was going on, the attention was starting to make me uncomfortable.

Retired Guild Artemis Inquisitor Georgia Drake has had two weeks to settle into her new home, including fourteen delicious days watching adorably attractive handyman, Sam Spencer, work shirtless on a regular basis. While his reluctance to express his affections continue to trouble her, Georgia’s romantic entanglements fall to the wayside when a team of treasure hunters arrives and takes over the sea caves with claims a pirate ship might be hidden there. When one of their number turns up dead, Georgia is again on the hunt for a killer. But is the death tied to the treasure or is there something more nefariously mundane behind it all? Find out in book two of the Whitewitch Island Paranormal Cozies!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patti Larsen
• Release date: May 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781989925225

Patti Larsen

About me, huh? Well, my official bio reads like this: Patti Larsen is a multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in her head. But that sounds so freaking formal, doesn’t it? I’m a storyteller who hears character's demands so loudly I have to write them down. I love the idea of sports even though sports hate me. I’ve dabbled in everything from improv theater to film making and writing TV shows, singing in an all girl band to running my own hair salon.But always, always, writing books calls me home.I’ve had my sights set on world literary domination for a while now. Which means getting my books out there, to you, my darling readers. It’s the coolest thing ever, this job of mine, being able to tell stories I love, only to see them all shiny and happy in your hands... thank you for reading.As for the rest of it, I’m short (permanent), slightly round (changeable) and blonde (for ever and ever). I love to talk one on one about the deepest topics and can’t seem to stop seeing the big picture. I happily live on Prince Edward Island, Canada, home to Anne of Green Gables and the most beautiful red beaches in the world, with my pug overlord and overlady, six lazy cats and Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn.

Book preview

Chapter One

The older woman waved with happy enthusiasm from the other side of the restaurant patio’s railing, beaming a smile in my direction as she walked past with an elderly man dressed remarkably like her. She nudged him, pointing in my direction, her (husband?) instantly shifting from a grumpy pout to his own gesture of welcome with a wink and a grin thrown in.

I waved back, though I knew my smile had to look strained. Thing was, I had no clue—none in the living world, or the dead one for that matter—who either of them was. Had we met before? Was there some history I’d failed to recall? I’d only been living on Whitewitch Island for two weeks now. The chances I’d encountered them in my previous life as a Guild Artemis inquisitor fell to the wayside since neither of them felt magical in any way.

Thing was, it had been a rather common occurrence since I’d assisted the local sheriff, Harriet Quinn, in solving the cluster of murders—and an older mystery, too—shortly after moving into my new home here on the coast of California. Random residents shared their over-eager greetings, though rarely approached me, seemingly happy to welcome me with smiles and waves and thumbs up from a distance while I did my best not to be a weirdo about my returned responses.

Whatever was going on, whether they were simply grateful for my help in finding the killer(s) or were just that friendly, I wasn’t sure. Regardless, the attention was starting to make me uncomfortable.

I was far more used to a black suit and white dress shirt, a badge and a hunter partner, being respected and feared than I was being cheerily saluted by total strangers. Said a lot about me and my previous life, I suppose, I preferred to make people nervous (the guilty, at least) than settled in my presence.

The long sip I took of my red wine wasn’t an attempt to drown out such thoughts, I swear to you. But, as I observed the adorable young couple on the other side of the open patio smiling at me, glancing my way before whispering together with sidelong glances in my direction, I finally sighed and set down my glass a little more firmly than I intended.

What, is the wine off? I looked up in surprise at her arrival, Dr. Mavis Fernsby (retired Guild Hades Thaumaturge Mavis Fernsby, that was), plunking herself without ceremony in the chair across from me, her short, round shape topped with shining silver curls, pale, blue eyes laughing at me as they always seemed to be. Or did I miss something juicy you’re going to fill me in on?

Normally, in a more collected state of mind, I would have felt her coming even without knowing she was on her way to join me. Not only was she also departed from the paranormal society in which we’d both lived and worked for so long before coming here to retire, her necromancy ability linked to mine from the moment we’d met, our shared bloodline (hers much more powerful, but still), making it impossible most of the time for her to sneak up on me.

Not so today, it seemed. I smiled at the adorable young woman in her black t-shirt and shorts as she served Mavis a glass of water before taking her order and waited until she’d headed off to fetch Whitewitch Island’s medical examiner a beer before responding.

I’m not used to being noticed, I suppose, I said, even as a new couple, being seated close by, did their own version of hey, how are you without saying a word to me, matching smiles forcing one of my own before I ducked my head and contemplated donning my mirrored sunglasses just to keep from making eye contact. It seems like everyone in town thinks I’m legion’s gift, for pity’s sake.

Mavis leaned forward, wicked grin making me tense. We hadn’t known each other long, but I already liked and admired her very much, and was well aware she had the kind of sense of humor that bent toward teasing. Not that such treatment was unfamiliar. My former hunter partner, Elias Barrow, had been a master of cynical dry wit and could cut to the quick with a wink and a smirk if one wasn’t prepared for his droll amusement. Thing was, I had a feeling something obvious was coming and part of me wasn’t sure I had the patience to deal with it.

"You’re radiating trust me, Georgia Drake," she said. Waited for me to register what she meant. Before groaning and kicking myself.

Of course, I was. How had I forgotten the layers of thin magic I’d whispered into existence around me two weeks ago? Shortly after the sheriff asked me to assist her in the murder investigation? Not just trust me, either. But pay attention, too.

No wonder I was the center of focus. I quickly eased up on the spell that lingered all this time and watched, with unfounded disappointment, as the previously enraptured locals went back to minding their own business.

I met Mavis’s eyes, not expecting to feel let down. After all, hadn’t I wanted them to stop treating me like some kind of celebrity? I had to admit, however, knowing it was just magic and not any real appreciation for what I’d done that had created the buzz I’d been feeling hit me in the ego like very little could.

Just when I thought I was part of the family, I sighed. Thanks, Mavis, for popping that bubble. I needed it.

She shook her head, accepting her beer from the server who hurried off without taking our food order. So much for service now, too. I found myself scowling at my wine when Mavis laughed at me, low chuckle with just a bit of gravel as much a hint to her gnome heritage as her body shape.

Nothing wrong with a little appreciation, she said. Sipped her beer. Getting any from that handsome Sam Spencer?

I blushed. I wasn’t expecting the question, though my handyman—the island’s handyman, Georgia Drake, and don’t you forget it—was on the divinely delicious side and I’d apparently been single far too long for my own good because thinking of him made me hungry.

So hungry.

Except every attempt I’d made to ask him to dinner had been evaded, every offer of lunch or even a coffee turned down. I’d stopped asking, not hurt by the rejection so much as I was intensely curious. Sam had shown his own interest when we’d first met, at least if I’d been reading him right. And surreptitious questions to the few people in town I trusted so far revealed he wasn’t seeing anyone. So, whatever it was keeping Sam from accepting my offers to get to know him better, he had his reasons he decided not to share with me.

Honestly, turn me down, I was fine with that. But tell me why. Curiosity was, after all, the mainstay of my former life, was it not? And unsolved and lingering mysteries made my teeth ache.

I’ll take that as a no. Mavis shrugged. I’m sure he has his reasons, but the boy’s missing out. Nice of her to say so. You hear anything back from Artemis yet?

I did a bit of a double-take as she shifted the subject on me. Blushed again, though this time in a rush of anger and resentment that had nothing to do with the necromancer who’d asked the question. They said they’d get back to me, I growled.

Did you tell them about the ring? I’d received a little gift in the mail not so long ago and while I didn’t have proof, I was positive it was from the same soul who’d ended my partner’s life and drove me to retire out of sheer frustration. The enemy no one even got around to naming, deadly and pursued for over a decade, had been the untimely end of Elias Barrow, had almost been mine. The fact the very ring I received had been the one I’d gifted to Elias while we were partners, the ring I’d thought lost from his charred remains after his encounter, told me it had to be from the one and only who’d taken Elias from me.

Not to mention the note, written in blood.

Enjoy your retirement, Georgia.

Still made my blood boil.

No, I said. Didn’t mean to be abrupt, reached forward immediately and squeezed Mavis’s hand by way of apology for my short reply. If I do, they’ll come to claim it, and I can’t have that. The enemy had challenged me personally, directly. That taunt was meant to draw me out, I had no doubt. The fact whoever the enemy was knew where I’d gone, took note of my current residence, had me on edge. However, according to my former guild, no trace of Elias’s killer had been found and I was firmly and forcefully informed to back off and make no effort to engage.

I was retired, after all.

If he wanted you dead, Mavis said in her no-nonsense way, he’d have killed you by now, Georgia. Truth. He’d have finished the job that night, instead of leaving me, broken and burned by the flashover of power he used to incinerate Elias, to suffer and grieve the loss of my partner.

Whatever his motivation, I said, sitting back, wine in hand, wishing I had the whole bottle and considering adding it to my order, I’m not going to take the bait. Oh, I’d considered it. Thought about running off, willy-nilly and without guidance or even a hint as to where to look, to scour the world for a ghost who had only come close to being caught once. By a man I adored and lost forever. Almost did, was this close. If it hadn’t been for Mavis, for my black Hades Guardian mastiff, Benjamin, for the pair of ravens who shared my life, I would have.

I know I would have.

Instead, I chose to remain on Whitewitch Island and pretend I was just folks. While the truth of the matter was, I simmered inside with the need to know who the enemy really was and bring him (her? Them? It, even?) to justice.

Any chance to continue our conversation ended with the arrival of an unexpected guest, though from Harriet Quinn’s slightly desperate smile, she worried she might not be welcome.

Was it wrong I wished she’d waited just a bit longer? Way to want to wallow, Georgia Drake.

***

Chapter Two

As it turned out, Harriet’s arrival wasn’t the only interruption, though the second happening wasn’t intended that way, I was certain. While the sheriff made her way toward our table, a rather boisterously voiced gentleman in a cream linen suit, his foreign accent boomed out in a cheery voice, broke through the chatter of the diners gathered on the patio.

How delightful! He swept off his matching fedora, the black band home to a rather jaunty white feather, his thick, silver hair receding just faintly over his full, dark brows and large, brown eyes. He’d clearly spent a great deal of time in the sun, though it suited his heavy features rather than increasing his aged appearance, the full line of his jaw untouched by the jowls of older men, tall body robust, and energy clearly not an issue despite his advanced age. What a lovely place, my dear Katerina. Lovely. He swept a little bow to the waitress who giggled. We have a reservation, my dear, he said, still filling the outdoor space with the sound of his voice. Argus and Katerina Filo.

Greek, by my guess. And while his vocal enthusiasm might have come across as arrogance from another, even attention-seeking, there was a sparkling adorableness to him and the smiling young woman at his side, that curtailed any sourness at his continuing volume and claim of focus.

He didn’t need magic to be noticed, apparently. Unlike someone I knew.

Ouch. I knew how to get my own digs in, didn’t I? Except mine were usually aimed inward.

Thank you, the young woman said to the server, her voice carrying in the silence that had fallen over the rest of us at her companion’s animated entrance, long, blonde hair wavy and loose over her pale pink sundress. I think we’re at that table, Grandfather. She pointed to the one directly across from me, four seats open, the white sign with RESERVED across the front making their destination obvious. Which actually made me happy, because it would mean eavesdropping wouldn’t be a problem.

Not that I’d need to if Argus Filo continued at his normal volume. Still, I was now acutely curious about the pair, and not because of their heritage. But because I now knew exactly who they were.

And so did everyone else in the restaurant. Hard not to make the connection as the elderly gentleman guided his granddaughter with her hand on his arm in a true gallant gesture, the pair sitting quickly while whispers started up around them.

Harriet had stopped her advance when Argus’s arrival first made everyone stop and stare but hurried forward again once they’d been seated pausing at their table a moment on her way to us.

Mr. Filo, she said, nodding to Katerina as well, Ms. Filo, I’m Sheriff Harriet Quinn.

Argus was on his feet immediately, shaking her hand with both of his, that booming voice making me smile at the sheer exuberance of it.

Sheriff! What a delight. Isn’t it, Katerina, my pet? He finally let Harriet’s hand go. I’m so grateful you and your deputies are taking such good care of the dig site. I know our little treasure hunt has created work for you and your people, and I can’t tell you how happy we are to have you in service.

Harriet seemed a little overwhelmed by the man, his granddaughter reaching up from where she’d remained seated to touch the sheriff’s hand while my mind happily confirmed what I’d suspected with his words.

Forgive my grandfather, the young woman said with a light, open smile. He lets his excitement carry him away at times.

Not at all. Harriet beamed back at Argus. "Happy to have you and your team here on Whitewitch Island, Mr. Filo. I watched the whole documentary series you made two years ago when you uncovered the wreck of the Mona Culpa off Costa Rica." While I was aware the treasure hunt was unfolding in the sea caves on the far west side of the island, I had no idea—treasure hunting wasn’t something I was familiar with—Argus Filo was famous for it. Perhaps my