Dead As A Doornail

By Patti Larsen

Georgia Drake, Just Folks

I unloaded my bags from the back of Olive’s light blue hatchback, waving at the happy pair as I headed down my walkway to the house, loaded with a rather embarrassingly impressive collection of acquisitions in shining plastic bags I’d make sure to reuse and or recycle as was the requirement of normal humans. It might have been apparent my present preoccupation with the sorting of such minor items indicated my current level of domesticity and acclimation to life without the typical magical disposal opportunities available to others like me. And while the ultimate fate of trash might have seemed a trivial topic, I found I was enjoying thoroughly such little shifts in thinking and that giant worries no longer were my own normal.

Never in my life had I thought I, Georgia Eirene Drake, only daughter of the fabled Drake family whose bloodline of Gold Dragon Emissary was only two generations removed, would find herself delighting in tiny aspects of normalcy like sorting plastics and waste into their respective receptacles.

Some might have seen it as the mighty fallen. I chose to find it satisfying.

Georgia never intended to poke her nose into Sam Spencer’s personal affairs, even if the attraction is mutual despite his reluctance to admit it. She even accepts a date with someone else to prove it. But when she’s witness to the death of Sam’s old partner, she uncovers things from her handyman’s past he came home to Whitewitch Island to forget. Trouble is, he can no longer hide from the truth—a truth that makes him a prime suspect for murder. Welcome back to the Whitewitch Island Paranormal Cozies!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patti Larsen
• Release date: May 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781989925232

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

Dead As A Doornail

Whitewitch Island Paranormal Cozies: Three

Patti Larsen

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2021 by Patti Larsen

Find out more about me at

http://www.pattilarsen.com

***

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

***

Chapter One

What do you think, G? Holly had emerged from the dressing room with a teeny tiny dress on that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs, sparkles far too overdone for my liking as was the deeply plunging neckline. While perhaps a good choice (if you could call it that) for a twentysomething heading to a nightclub, I wasn’t so sure it was a good fit for a thirteen-year-old. Then again, who was I to judge?

I like the color, I said of the pink tone to the sequins that whispered as they shimmied while she spun in a circle. That seemed to appease her need for approval of the piece, though the moment the change room next to her opened and Olive Henry emerged, I knew the fun was over.

Young lady, my friend said in her best mothering tone layered with the kind of disapproval and denial that was classic, I had to believe, to mothers everywhere since my own was so very good at it, too.

Holly pouted before turning back to me with a wink. The sly little minx. She knew perfectly well what Olive’s reaction would be and was purposely teasing her. I winked back, before turning sideways to check out my profile in the fitted suit I’d decided to purchase. I hadn’t worn one since I’d left the East coast and my life as a Guild Artemis Inquisitor, thinking I’d never have reason to wear one again. However, if people kept dying on my lovely new home of Whitewitch Island, having a nice, black suit could come in handy.

Yes, I could have made one with magic. But when Olive and Holly asked me to come shopping with them on the mainland, well. One look at the pair of them giggling now over the ridiculous dress Holly had on and her encouraging touches as she adjusted the sundress Olive was trying on, their caring so visible in the auras around them it brought a lump to my throat, I simply couldn’t deny their request.

Not that I was raised by wolves or anything, but the Drake family and their Very Important Status required a level of cool confidence and collected composure that was a very far cry indeed from the snorting and teasing between Olive and her lovely daughter.

Oh, Georgia, Olive turned her brilliant smile on me, her long, blonde hair’s loose bun come undone from all the trying on we’d been doing the last two hours. "I love the cut of that suit."

I did, too. While my Artemis attire was boxier, the fitted, curving shape of the trousers and jacket gave me a feminine look I’d lacked in my job. Perhaps this upgrade was a good sign? Returning to my position was still out of the question, my desire to realign with my guild burned down to a soft coal I could have breathed life back into if I chose. Certainly, the ravens and my mastiff darling, Benjamin, would have been fine with resuming their own activities with Artemis. And yet, I found I was enjoying the freedom of my life on Whitewitch Island, and the occasional murders (don’t judge me, death was my specialty) not to mention the odd case our sheriff, Harriet Quinn, brought to me outside the realm of early passing, kept my mind engaged enough for me, thank you.

I returned to the interior of the change room and redressed in my shorts and t-shirt, privately giggling over the fact my mother would be appalled to see me in denim and flip-flops because what would everyone think? Yes, this freedom was delicious and giving it up? Not on the menu.

As I carried my new suit to the counter for payment, my friends emerged with their own choices, the young woman behind the counter ringing us up as I noticed Holly glancing toward the front of the store. Took note of a trio of girls her age, all wearing an abundance of makeup, with elaborately colored hair and rather risqué apparel, engaged in that most irritating of activities, snapping endless selfies in which their lips did acrobatics to appear plump and inviting.

At thirteen.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I understood the hormonal drive of teenagers, had been one myself, had my own encounters outside the realm of my family’s approval, more for rebellion and to spite my mother than anything. I really did get it. However, the excessiveness of photo after photo while they chattered like little birds gossiping over nothing had my more cynical side eye rolling.

Turned to something a bit more irritated when I noted they pointed and whispered about Holly as she smiled and waved before tossing their expensive hairdos in waves of matching dark locks laced with highlights before flouncing off and snubbing her completely.

I had no idea where the intensely protective surge of anger came from, the flat and unhappy stare I shot after them lingering as I turned back and caught the look in the mirror behind the young woman trying to hand me back my credit card. She flinched from the expression, with good reason. I hadn’t been a lead inquisitor for nothing. I had deadpan threatening down to a science. Which I had to ease up on before the poor thing crumpled from the weight of my sizzling fury.

Not hard to smooth it over, to flash her a smile and a whisper of magic to release her from the unconscious spell-like fear I’d inspired. By the time she waved us out of the store she was returned to normal, though I reprimanded myself internally for not being more careful.

As for Holly, she seemed to have lost some of her perk and spark, something I blamed entirely on the three girls who’d turned their nasty backs on her. And, though she wasn’t my child or my responsibility, I made a suggestion I would have to Benjamin if he was down (because mothering a mastiff was like parenting a kid, right?)

Ice cream, I said. On me.

It worked, so don’t give me a hard time about it.

As I ate my very plain and boring (according to Holly) cup of vanilla, savoring the flavor I adored, she tackled a mountain of three kinds topped with enough chocolate sauce to drown a pixie, Olive’s more conservative but still braver (snort) choice of chocolate mint between us.

Can I walk Benny tonight? Holly was still at that age where she waffled between adorable girl and waveringly tentative teen on the cusp of womanhood, her enthusiasm with my mastiff keeping her young, yet.

Of course, I smiled at her. He’d love that. I’d hated leaving him home today, but he always understood. The ravens would keep him company, the three likely asleep right now. Happily, there’d been no further sign of any shift in Benjamin’s sweet and loving personality, his brief descent into the depths of a Hades Guardian a momentary experience that seemed like a blip now more than something I needed to watch for signs of. Understandable how he’d shifted out of his typical kindness and compassion to full-on protector considering the circumstances in which we’d found ourselves at the time. Still, the last thing I wanted was to have my darling and adorable Benny shift as he aged—still only two but nearing his third birthday and more maturity—into someone I didn’t recognize.

I already had that going on in my own head with personal evolution, thank you. His stability, and that of the ravens, was much preferable.

Apparently, I’d missed, in my musing, the fact Holly and Olive were carrying on a bit of a silent conversation they’d clearly had prior to my joining them and that was only now coming to a head. I looked up from my ice cream and concern for Benjamin to see Holly poking her mother and Olive trying to brush her off before my friend sighed and smiled a little, her green eyes crinkling around the corners in amusement though there was a hesitation there I didn’t understand.

Mom, just ask her. Holly grinned at me, diving back into her dessert while I tilted my head and offered an open smile to the blushing self-proclaimed psychic medium who’d befriended me.

I’m having a girl’s night, she gushed then, shaking her head a little. You don’t have to come. Like I’d turn her down or something? Why did she hesitate? Just some appies and a lot of wine. She laughed then. And I’m going to do some readings. That’s all. Don’t feel pressured or anything, Georgia.

It took me a moment to respond. Not because I didn’t want to go, to the contrary. The soft lump in my throat I’d been fighting all day at the sight of the pair of them loving and enjoying each other so much, allowing me to share in that feeling even peripherally, came back with a rush and I had to clear my throat before responding.

I’d love to, I said. Thank you for asking.

Told you. Holly poked her mother who laughed again, less shaky. Mom was worried.

Olive batted at her then sighed and shrugged. I know you’re a skeptic, Georgia, she said. Ah, the crux of the thing. I don’t want to pressure you into having a reading or anything. It’s totally voluntary.

Since I knew full well she was 100% normal human and didn’t carry even a breath of power, I wasn’t worried. And yes, she was right, I did tend to smile indulgently when she talked about her work, but I didn’t realize she’d seen through me and was hurt by it. Which had me reaching out to squeeze her hand.

Whatever it is you believe you can do, I said, "I believe in you, Olive. That’s all that matters to me."

She answered with a smile and a nod, returning the squeeze. Thank you, Georgia. It’s hard, I know, being a detective. I’m sure you encountered a lot of fake mediums in your day. Actually, far too many real ones, and all of them crackpots, an unfortunate side effect to foresight and true mediumship, but she didn’t need to know that. I’m so glad you can come.

So was I, and not just to Olive’s little party. More and more I felt confident I’d made the right choice moving to Whitewitch Island.

***

Chapter Two

I unloaded my bags from the back of Olive’s light blue hatchback, waving at the happy pair as I headed down my walkway to the house, loaded with a rather embarrassingly impressive collection of acquisitions in shining plastic bags I’d make sure to reuse and or recycle as was the requirement of normal humans. It might have been apparent my present preoccupation with the sorting of such minor items indicated my current level of domesticity and acclimation to life without the typical magical disposal opportunities available to others like me. And while the ultimate fate of trash might have seemed a trivial topic, I found I was enjoying thoroughly such little shifts in thinking and that giant worries no longer were my own normal.

Never in my life had I thought I, Georgia Eirene Drake, only daughter of the fabled Drake family whose bloodline of Gold Dragon Emissary was only two generations removed, would find herself delighting in tiny aspects of normalcy like sorting plastics and waste into their respective receptacles.

Some might have seen it as the mighty fallen. I chose to find it satisfying.

To my surprise, Benjamin didn’t meet me at the door, as was his usual, the mastiff’s eager awaiting typically generating guilt he stood, tail wagging and ears perked, on the threshold, excited for my return and reminding me without his own activities or work to keep him occupied, I really was his only entertainment. Which prodded me over and over each

Reviews for Dead As A Doornail

[Blaine Corkum · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Patti has a wonderful way of embellishing the situation, putting the reader inside a colorful movie scene, complete with scents and sound effects.
Blaine William Corkum