Victorian Mystery Author Nanci M. Pattenden

Novella Mystery Author Nanci M. Pattenden has joined the JUZDIZRTS Words & Music Author Event!

Nanci M. Pattenden is a genealogist and a fiction writer, with non-fiction articles in The Attic, Ancestors, and Site Lines. She is currently working on a collection of detective stories set in Victorian Toronto, as well as a novel based on an 1891 murder involving a young relative.

Body in the Harbour is the first novella in the Detective Hodgins series, published Nov 2014 by Murder Does Pay, Ink.

Nanci lives in Southern Ontario with her diabetic cat Sandy and has completed the Creative Writing program at the University of Calgary.

duchess cover smDeath on Duchess Street – A Detective Hodgins Victorian Mystery

The tranquility of a tight-knit neighbourhood in Victorian Toronto is shattered when a young girl becomes the next victim in a string of robberies, missing persons and murder. Why is her father acting so strangely? Could he somehow be involved? Are the two murders and the disappearance of a neighbour connected?

Detective Albert Hodgins travels east to Kingston and north to the tiny hamlet of Pine Grove looking for answers. The trail eventually leads to New York and a rather rough NY Captain whose methods are almost deadly. Hodgins frantically tries to piece everything together so the person responsible can pay for his, or her, crime.

“This is a great event. I’ve attended every one without fail and now I get to be on stage too!”

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Website: http://www.murderdoespayink.ca

Blog: https://nancipattenden.wordpress.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/nanci.pattenden

Twitter: @NanciMPattenden

JUZDIZRTS @ Archtop Cafe

We had an absolutely fantastic gathering of authors at the event yesterday in Bolton. While the cold and drizzly rain kept some guests away, inside the cafe was warm and toasty. Our authors extended from Memoir to Science Fiction to Steam Punk, Spiritual, Poetry and beyond.

Douglas Owen   Diane Bator   Joanna Gale   Heather Scavetta   D.L. Narrol   Jim Scott   M.J. Moores

Short Fiction      Mystery            Poetry         Spiritual Memoir   Steam Punk    Poetry          Sci-Fi

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A Special thank you to our Hosts:

Ron & Kim of Archtop Cafe

& our Sponsors:

Forster’s Book Garden

& Perpetual Roses by Caridian

Excerpt From Author Jim Scott’s Travel Poetry & Writings

jim-scott-bookSlake Your Thirst on this Satisfying Sample…

An Excerpt of Jim Scott’s poetry typical of his style that incorporates the essence of the Wanderings and Sojourns series.

Tomorrow’s Past Life

 

 

There was once a time when my life was filled with living;

Adventure and excitement scattered all across this earth.

I was in my prime, with so much just ripe for giving.

To wander seemed the reason for my birth.

But now my life has changed, I seldom travel fifty mile.

Adventure’s turned to mortgage. Mine’s a sedentary style.

My freedom’s now an office, distant romance an ex-wife.

I have to find the path that leads me on to my old life

 

So that just once more I can sail the endless ocean,

Or track the old bull wildebeest, and dive amongst the whales.

Watch the condors soar. Change my plans on any notion

To seek of lands heard in a stranger’s tales.

Is that so very much to ask? I’ve known it so before.

The hunger and the plenty, forest snow and desert shore.

The laughter and the loneliness, the passions and the pain.

But still there’s lands I didn’t see, and those I’d see again

 

If I found a way to undo these chains that bind me,

Not harming those I love nor running from the debts I owe.

I should leave today! Going where no one could find me,

Not caring what I’d seek or where I’d go.

But that’s now how my dreams are made; awake I see the truth:

The bank, the schools the eight to five, so absent from my youth,

Now plot against my wanderlust, my yearning for the road

To hide the path I’m seeking that I once so freely strode.

 

But there’ll come a time when the house is bought and paid for,

The kid’s are all through college and the pension’s guaranteed.

Then I’ll start to climb back toward the life I’m made for;

My chains released, my spirit once more freed.

Though twenty years may lie between this moment and that day,

It waits on the horizon as a cairn which points the way.

A monument to travellers; emancipation’s prize!

A mark to set my compass bearing steady in my eyes

So that I can see that my life is far from finished.

And some day I will live again adventures yet untold.

Where the wind and me, with a passion undiminished,

Will find that younger life I knew of old.

 

 

Copyright © Jim Scott 2008

Don’t miss hearing Jim read at the JUzDIzRTS Author Event at Archtop Cafe in Bolton this Saturday November 8th starting at 2pm!


 

Excerpt from Author Douglas Owen’s Collection – Inside My Mind

Life, Levity, and the Search for Latitude

An Excerpt from YA, Fantasy, & Short Story writer Douglas Owen’s collection:

Inside My Mind – Vol. 1

x-defaultExcerpt from “End of the World”

I can’t believe how easily Julie transitioned from our small office to the big one in this new facility. The lack of windows unnerves me, personally. How people could work with the walls looming over them baffles my understanding.

Several other astrophysicists help me deal with all the details concerning the plan. This is beyond me. How did they think I could handle all the details involved? So much to do and so little time to do it in. Why couldn’t we have found the 42 sooner? It really wouldn’t have made any difference. We would have just pushed with less ferocity than we are now.

The piles of requisitions scream at me for attention. One finds its way in to my hands, and I read it with disinterest. Toilet paper, really? There has to be something else to ask for. Three tons, that’s how much they’re asking for. They must be elephants or something. What the hell would they be using that much for?

“Julie,” I call out, hoping to pass on the need to investigate.

“Yes, doc?” she says when her face pokes into the room.

“Here.” I hold out the requisition form to her. “Find out how many times section seven flushes the toilet and see if they really need so much ass-wipe.”

She grabs the paper from me and chuckles. “I’ll look in on it.” I can see the question in her eyes.

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“We’ve worked together for about twelve years now, right?” My fingers run thought my hair, scratching at an imaginary itch at the back of my
skull.

“A little over, I’d say.” Her eyes are full of concern.

“Have you even known me to be an administrator?” She starts to giggle.

“Sorry, doc. It’s just that for the last few days you’ve shuffled more paper and administrated this facility better than anyone. There’s no one
I could point to who would have done a better job.” She flourishes the requisition form in front of her. “Most would have just signed off on
this without even thinking.”

My mind pictures Carl behind the desk with crates of toilet paper stacked behind him and I start to laugh.

“Carl, right?” Julie says.

“Yes. It’s stacked—”

“—Behind him.”

The headache starts to disappear. The levity is enough to break the ice. Standing, I make my way around the desk and take the requisition from
her. “I’ll take care of this.”

She giggles her way back to her desk.

*    *    *
Be sure to join Douglas at the JUZDIZRTS Author Event where he will read from his short story anthology at Archtop Cafe in Bolton this Saturday November 8th. The event begins at 2pm.

Excerpt from Author M.J. Moores’ Sci-Fi – Time’s Tempest

A Chilling Conspiracy of Conscience & Choices…

An Excerpt from Speculative writer M.J. Moores’ book:

Time's Tempest - 3D CoverTime’s Tempest: The Chronicles of Xannia

Excerpt from Chapter 2 – The Rally

Zaith bit her lower lip. We had an arrangement: I was never an official source for her stories. But I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. The theories Professor Denali was so close to proving kept ricocheting around in my head. History and some ancient supposed chronicles were not going to solve this problem.

The Talian countered with a fierce passion lacing his every word. “Clues were left behind on the Ancient Tablets preserved in the Museum of Darius. We need to study them, analyse them, and form a band of Kahn-lea. With the information we gather, we’ll take to the Deserts and retrieve the Chronicles. Legend states that the ‘pure one’ upon finding them, will be granted the sight of old.”

Something clicked in the back of my mind: Legends – not facts. There is no substance here.

Bedtime stories, dreams and fantasies are all that’s left of the truth behind the Ancient Tablets and Chronicles. No one could ever know if what they risked their lives for was real, or if they were even looking in the right area of the Deserts. There’s no need for all this blather about your Spoken Truth.”

Chatter rose among the audience.

“Who is she?”

“Why is she challenging the Talian?”

“Is she right?”

“Why doesn’t she believe?”

The Talian held up his hand for silence, never once breaking eye contact with me. “We will never know when we’ll face the end of our existence. We’d be fools if we did nothing and died because of it. The Kronik, the supposed men of my race, continue to flounder, hide, and avoid the problem. It’s our turn now. This is a time for believers and doers.”

The crowd agreed with him, dismissing me entirely. They refilled the space between us. My skin pricked cold. My spine tingled and itched. This was not over. The Kronik may not be handling this problem publicly, but they have been dealing with life and death issues since the Great Migration over two thousand years ago.

He has no idea of the damage he’ll cause – the death sentence for anyone involved. And they believe him! Didn’t they hear him? He said “take to the Deserts!” He has to be stopped.

My body vibrated with fury. His disregard for the sanctity of life shattered my common sense. I couldn’t let these people be led to the slaughter.
As he spoke about the forming of a legion of Kahn-lea, the ancient term coined for a band of citizens dubbed ‘Explorers of Fate’, I opened my belt-pack and retrieved my Clinex.

The small, round, reflective weapon emitted plasma bursts to a range of 300 yards. It would get the job done. Though it was a CTF-issued weapon, it was compact and discrete. No one would see it coming, no one but Zaith would know it was mine. Zaith, oblivious to my actions, continued to carefully record the first sighting of a Talian in public since before the two of us were born.

Grasping the Clinex in my left hand, I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. Then, stepping back I opened my eyes again and took aim.

*    *    *
Be sure to join M.J. at the JUZDIZRTS Author Event where she will read from her sci-fi novel at Archtop Cafe in Bolton this Saturday November 8th. The event begins at 2pm.

Excerpt from Author D.L. Narrol’s Steam Punk Book – Age of Chivalry

Daring, Danger, Drink and Disaster…

An Excerpt from Steam Punk writer D.L. Narrol’s book:

Age of ChivalryAge of Chivalry

Chapter One

Late September 1910 Captain Colin Limmerick stood by the gunnel of his vessel. The ship’s two steam pipes blew off excess as the one sail caught the chilled wind off the Irish Sea. He cranked away at the reel to bring in the latest catch. He put his bulging biceps to work as he pumped away at drawing the catch into the hold of the ship. The captain’s first mate, Eddy, stood behind him as he watched the tall, robust captain put his muscles to work. The fish made it into the hold, while the captain stared at the sea.

“Captain?” Eddy asked.

The captain gazed at the sea, as if he were in a trance. He winced with panic when he saw several people splashing about in the water. He reached for his bottle of whiskey, which sat on the planked floor of the deck. He took a few swigs and continued to stare. People squirmed and gasped for air as they slowly sank below the captivating waves. Their screams became less and less until only a few remained afloat.

“Captain? Are yaz feelin’ alright?” Eddy asked.

The last of the victims kept repeating the same phrase in Gaelic.

“Long live our Lord! And, long live Ireland.”

The captain bit his lip with horror as he watched each one of them sink into the frigid sea.

“Captain! Captain Colin! Are yaz feelin’ ill, or what?”

Colin turned to his first mate. “Oh, God!”
Eddy stepped closer to him. “What is it that ya see out there?”

Colin appeared horrified. “Oh, God! Sweet Christ!” He took the whiskey bottle and placed it against his lips. He started to drink profusely, while he focused on Eddy. He gazed at his first mate with penetrating eyes. Eddy noticed a tear run down his captain’s cheek.

“Oh, sakes, captain, yar cryin’? What’s wrong?” Eddy pulled the whiskey bottle from his captain’s hands. “Imagine a big strong man like yarself is cryin’. Ya got every wench chasin’ after yaz. The crew goes on about how much they wished they had yar good looks and brains. Can’t believe a man with so much to offer is cryin’.”

Colin looked at Eddy with his lips parted. He unbuttoned his jacket. He pulled his tartan scarf from his broad neck and unbuttoned his shirt. Eddy could see his bare chest and stomach.

“Look at me.”

Eddy noticed a deep scar on Colin’s belly. “Oh, God! Captain, what happened?”

Colin examined his wound for the umpteenth time. He ran his large hands over bumpy aftermath of skin.

“What happened, ye ask, Ed? A sword did this to me.”

“Oh, good Lord. What kinda mess did yaz get yarself into? Since when ya play with swords?”

“Since lately, I suppose.”

“Are ya cryin’ ’bout the wound, or are yaz in pain from it?”

“It does still cause me pain, so it does. Rosa stitched it up.”

“Rosa? She’s no medical doctor. Isn’t she an archeologist?”

“That she is, but there wasn’t a physician around. I’m not cryin’ ’bout me wound, but tell me somethin’, Ed? Are there people drowin’ in the sea just now?”

Eddy slowly turned his head. He squinted his eyes as he scanned the water.

“I’m not seein’ them, captain.”

Colin turned to his first mate. “What ye mean?”

Eddy sighed with frustration. “I’m confiscatin’ yar whiskey. Ya really gotta cut down, don’t ya think?”

Colin buttoned his shirt. “Cut down? So, ye think I’m a lush, do ye?”

“Think? I know. We’s all gotta cut down, don’t ya think?”

Timmy in the wheelhouse climbed down to the deck to where his captain was talking to the first mate.

“Howye, captain?”

Colin tipped his tweed cap at his crewmember. “Timmy.”

“Gotta message from me wench for ya, captain.”

“How is Deidre these days?” Colin asked.

“She says she’s dyin’ to see yaz again, captain. I think she’s in love with yaz.”

Eddy placed his hand on Timmy’s shoulder. “Be a good lad ‘n leave us be for now. Yar captain has run into a problem, eh?”

Timmy sprinted to the galley. Eddy chuckled.

“Kids today.”

Colin sat on the ledge of the deck. “I know ye don’t know what me work is like at the university, but… ”

“Ya never tell me anythin’ ’bout yar research. Yaz always been very secretive ’bout it.”

“I’m a fishin’ captain and PhD candidate at the London University; strange combination, isn’t it? But ye know, Ed, I was the one with the high grades in school. Here I am a simple man, a fisherman at that. Yet I always had that crave for research and higher education. But I’ve noticed the other PhD candidates like Rosa came from wealth. Did ye know her father was a professor? Same with Amoli’s father.”

“Of course, captain, those that go to university don’t come from workin’ class people like us, eh?” Eddy nudged Colin’s arm.

“So, why would I bore the first mate of me ship with me university bunk?”

“I’ve known yaz since ya was a wee lad on yar uncle’s ship. Nothin’ ya have ever said to me was ever borin’.”

“Yer too kind, Ed. Can ye give me back me whiskey bottle now?”

Eddy handed it back to his captain.

Colin took a few swigs. “Don’t want ye to repeat any of this.”

“Captain, ya know ya have me word.”

“I’ve been travelin’ to past times in history, so I have.”

Eddy grabbed Colin’s whiskey bottle and took a large gulp. “Time travel?”

*    *    *
Be sure to join D.L. at the JUZDIZRTS Author Event where she will read from her steam punk novel at Archtop Cafe in Bolton this Saturday November 8th. The event begins at 2pm.