The Secrets Of The Old Post Cemetery by Patricia Crisafulli (EXCERPT)

Patricia Crisafulli is back with the third book in her Ohnita Harbor Mystery Series, starring small town librarian, authenticator and educator Gabriela Domenici!

Our heroine is excited about the latest assignment she’s devised for her students. The Traitor’s Map that was recently donated to an Ohnita museum might not be the most accurate map of the area — leading some to believe that it was deliberately drawn that way in order to throw off the British during the Revolutionary War — but it is a fascinating glimpse into an important chapter of the region’s past. She wants her students to consider how to authenticate the map: a challenging but worthwhile puzzle for others seeking to follow in her professional footsteps.

But when one of those students is found dead on the lakeshore, Gabriela is stricken with the thought that he might have gone too far in his zeal to complete the assignment. When she learns that the cause of death was actually murder, she finds herself caught up in a tangled web of death and deceit that may claim yet more lives if she doesn’t figure out whodunnit and why.

Read on for an excerpt that highlights the very human side of our heroine and her interactions with the people of Ohnita!

~~~~~~~

Gabriela rounded everyone up and led them into a dimly lit alcove where a framed map hung on the wall. “You’re among the first to see this on display,” she said. “It was donated to the museum just a few weeks ago.”

She turned to the map, which had been drawn in ink on parchment the color of autumn leaves. A heavy line showed the shoreline, with indentations for coves and inlets, and a few spits of land that jutted out into the water. One of them on the far right of the map was labeled “Peninsula Point.” In the center, a curvy line was labeled Ohnita River, and crosshatches on both sides indicated Ohnita Settlement, the town’s original name from three centuries ago.

As Gabriela scanned the map, her chest swelled with excitement and longing, a feeling she associated with the most compelling artifacts and documents she’d handled throughout her career. Gabriela relaxed into what she loved best—telling the stories of artifacts, giving historic objects a voice in the present. “This map is believed to have been drawn by Henry Thorsen, who handed it over to the British,” she told the students. “It sealed his conviction as a spy. That’s why it’s known as the Traitor’s Map.”

Murmurs rippled through the students, and Gabriela’s smile widened. She pointed to several features on the map and explained that the coves and marshes likely had been used by the Continental Army to stash their boats and keep watch for movements along the shoreline. “But here’s the odd thing,” she said. “This map is inaccurate. Ohnita Settlement is clearly marked, and you can see the Ohnita River. But many of the other markings don’t make sense. About a third of them are either in the wrong place or don’t exist at all. There seems to be a huge cave here.” She pointed to a clearly marked indentation. “But it simply isn’t there.”

“Could the shoreline have changed since then?” Ricky Seymour asked.

“Most definitely it has, because of erosion and improvements to modernize the harbor. But this cave appears too large to have changed over 250 years—a mere blink in geological time,” Gabriela said. “This brings us to your final assignment. I don’t expect you to actually prove whether the map is real or fake. This project is about describing your authentication process. Use your research skills. Think about where you would go for more information. Use your imagination. Think about who you’d interview if you could go anywhere and what questions you’d ask.”

“How about a time machine? I’d like to talk to Jacob Thorsen,” one of the students joked. Several others laughed; a few rolled their eyes.

“There are other ways of hearing the voices of the past—journals, diaries, and correspondence,” Gabriela said. “Primary research, remember?”

Ricky stepped closer to the original map, even as he held a photographic copy. “Forget time travel. I want a boat.”

***

On Saturday morning, Gabriela brewed a pot of strong coffee, started the first load of laundry, and logged into her library email account from her home computer. Two hours later, sunlight shone through the side window with western exposure, streaking glare across her computer screen. Gabriela got up to adjust the blinds, surprised to see that it was almost three o’clock. She hadn’t eaten lunch.

Fifteen minutes later, she was out the door. Her muscles loosened as her body warmed. Lengthening her stride, Gabriela pushed on toward the center of town.

Somewhere up ahead, a siren blared. Reflexively, she looked around, trying to pinpoint the origin of the sound. Approaching the intersection before the bridge over the Ohnita River, Gabriela looked down the cross street. Red and blue emergency lights flashed in the distance, near the turnoff to Fort Ohnita. Curious, she veered off her jogging route and went to investigate. Three blocks later she joined a small crowd gathered where two police cars idled grill-to-grill, blocking the street.

A young police officer admonished them all to go home, but nobody budged. A second officer appeared, and Gabriela recognized Thelma Tulowski. Inspector Tulowski, she corrected herself, recalling Thelma’s promotion a month ago. She waved, but Thelma frowned.

Gabriela approached her anyway. “I was out running when I heard the sirens.”

“And you just had to see what’s going on.” Thelma’s blue eyes narrowed under her hat’s visor. “Body washed up on the shore. Some college girl found him. She’s pretty shaken up. Seems she knew him.”

Thelma’s words sent a chill through Gabriela that had nothing to do with the cold breeze off the lake. “Who are they, Thelma? I’ve got a really bad feeling. I brought my class to the Old Post Cemetery on Wednesday. One of my students talked about getting a boat.”

“I’ll tell you this much since you’re about to see her. The girl who found the body is Emilie Hernandez,” Thelma said.

Gabriela clamped a hand over her mouth and spoke through her fingers. “Oh, God.”

“Emilie says she was meeting another student who had a boat—access to a boat is the way she put it. But he never showed up. So that’s when she decided to climb down the bluffs to the beach. She found her friend in the water.”

Gabriela swallowed hard. “Ricky Seymour?”

“Can’t say until we notify the next of kin,” Thelma said.

“Dark hair, small stature. Probably wearing a parka that’s too big for him.” Tears strangled Gabriela’s voice. “Is it Ricky? Just say yes or no.”

~~~~~~~

From The Secrets Of The Old Post Cemetery by Patricia Crisafulli. Copyright © 2025 by the author and reprinted by permission.

The Secrets Of The Old Post Cemetery by Patricia Crisafulli was published October 7 2025 by Woodhall Press and is available from all good booksellers, including