by Patti Larsen
Holy, what did he just say? I wished I recalled, could remember him, too, the instant of our first meeting, but I couldn’t despite myself.
Crew didn’t seem to care, gaze locking on the cover once more. “Granddad said we were descended from Captain Reading.” Another laugh, bright but brittle this time. “After Mom died, Dad brought me here that summer. To look for the treasure, he said. But more to spend time with me, maybe. We both missed her so much. This was just a family joke.” He held up the book, turned it to face me, tears in his blue eyes. “Alistair Markham was my grandfather. I moved here, took this job after Michelle died, because I wanted to be close to my family, if only their memory. That’s how I ended up in Reading.” He set the book aside, retrieved his beer, but didn’t move while my entire body shivered.
Choke. Splutter. No way.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. And then I was moving, faster than I should have been under the circumstances considering my lack of ability to focus on actually making forward progress without hurting myself, tripping over Petunia and hissing an apology to her when she yipped in protest but unable to slow down. I didn’t stop until I skidded to a halt at my bedside, lifting the music box in my hands which I carried at a near run to the kitchen counter, met with Crew’s renewed surprise.
My fingers trembled when I fumbled the lid open, let the song play, revealed the secret compartment. Lifted out the scrap of the map my grandmother left me and held it up, the thin parchment shivering in my grasp.
Crew stared a long moment, the beer bottle thudding to the counter, sliding from his loosened touch. An instant later his own hand slid into his back pocket as if of its own volition, retrieving his wallet. And, from the folds of black leather, he pulled out a scrap of his own, pressing the edges of the aged ivory paper into the torn side of mine until the partial compass was complete.
Our eyes met and I giggled, chest tight with the need to collapse in hysterics.
“Crew,” I whispered, fumbling the doubloon out onto the counter, the gold singing as the coin spun its final way to quiet.
“Fee,” he said. “It can’t be.”
“But it has to,” I said. “The hoard. Your grandfather, your father, my grandmother. They all had pieces. They all knew the truth.”
He hugged me suddenly, kissing me before letting me go, more joy in him than I’d ever seen before.
“It’s real,” he said. “The Reading hoard is real and it’s here.” Crew’s blue eyes shone as he laughed out loud. “And we’re going to find it.”
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Find Book Seven of the
Fiona Fleming Cozy Mysteries at
www.pattilarsen.com
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Author Notes
I’m so in love with Fee and Crew, with the story of their connection, and I’m so delighted to finally get to share some of his backstory at last.
The voices I write for, especially the long series characters, tend to love to lead me down these endless and convoluted roads, unwinding treasures of the emotional and mysterious kind, over the course of many books and multiple hints. Crew’s past is no exception, nor is his tie to Fee and the treasure they both seek.
For those of you dying to know, who are as deeply invested in the threads of mystery running beneath the town of Reading as much as the individual cases Fee and Crew investigate, I offer you a whisper of giddy excitement. As I finished the writing of this book, Fee finally told me how everything ends. And just how perfectly it links back to the beginning.
I can’t wait for you to find out more, because the suspense is killing me.
Best,
Patti
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About the Author
Everything you need to know about me is in this one statement: I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl, and now I’m doing it. How cool is that, being able to follow your dream and make it reality? I’ve tried everything from university to college, graduating the second with a journalism diploma (I sucked at telling real stories), am an enthusiastic member of an all-girl improv troupe (if you’ve never tried it, I highly recommend making things up as you go along as often as possible) and I get to teach and perform with an amazing group of women I adore. I’ve even been in a Celtic girl band (some of our stuff is on YouTube!) and was an independent film maker. My life has been one creative thing after another—all leading me here, to writing books for a living.
Now with multiple series in happy publication, I live on beautiful and magical Prince Edward Island (I know you’ve heard of Anne of Green Gables) with my multitude of pets.
I love-love-love hearing from you! You can reach me (and I promise I’ll message back) at [email protected]. And if you’re eager for your next dose of Patti Larsen books (usually about one release a month) come join my mailing list! All the best up and coming, giveaways, contests and, of course, my observations on the world (aren’t you just dying to know what I think about everything?) all in one place: http://smarturl.it/PattiLarsenEmail.
Last—but not least!—I hope you enjoyed what you read! Your happiness is my happiness. And I’d love to hear just what you thought. A review where you found this book would mean the world to me—reviews feed writers more than you will ever know. So, loved it (or not so much), your honest review would make my day. Thank you!