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Because wherever Jonty and Orlando go, trouble seems to find them. Sunny, genial Jonty and prickly, taciturn Orlando may seem like opposites. But their balance serves them well as they sift through clues to crimes, and sort through their own emotions to grow closer. But at the end of the day, they always find the truth . . . and their way home together.
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Be sure and check the author's website for a complete chronological list of novels, novellas, free short stories in the Cambridge Fellows Mysteries Universe.
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Summary:
Jonty Stewart and Orlando Coppersmith like nothing more than being given a mystery to solve. But what happens when you have to defend your greatest enemy on a charge of murder?
Summary:
Jonty Stewart and Orlando Coppersmith like nothing more than being handed a mystery to solve. But why would anybody murder a man with no enemies? And was it murder in the first place?
Summary:
St Bride's College is buzzing with excitement at the prospect of reviving the traditional celebration of the saint's day. When events get marred by murder it's natural that Jonty Stewart and Orlando Coppersmith will get called in to help the police with their inside knowledge. But why has somebody been crawling about on the chapel roof and who's obsessed with searching in the library out of hours?
Original Review August 2017:
I can honestly say that when I heard there was going to be a new Jonty and Orlando tale I was psyched! I won't go into the plot but I'll just say that for a novella Lessons in Loving thy Murderous Neighbour is jam packed with all kinds of the goodness and sass that has made Cambridge Fellows one of my favorite duos. Jonty and Orlando remind me a little(sometimes a lot) of Nick and Nora Charles from Dashiell Hammet's The Thin Man, they possess similar passion for each other, for life, and definitely appreciate a good mystery.
Charlie Cochrane could write 100 installments for this series and I would be hungry for #101. Jonty and Orlando are a brilliant couple that continue to make me smile and that is down to Charlie's obvious love of history because she adds that extra little something to the couple with the authenticity of the times. When an author goes the extra mile to "keep it real" without it turning into a history lesson, that only heightens my enjoyment and my respect for the author because I know they put the hours in to bring you a genuine tale of the era.
If you are new to Miss Cochrane's Cambridge Fellows Mysteries, there are currently 12 novels and unfortunately the first 8 are not currently available but the author is working on re-releasing them hopefully in the not-too-distant future. In my opinion, they should be read in order but technically each one could be read as a standalone since each has a new mystery but the relationships just would flow better in order, IMO.
Lessons in Chasing the Wild Goose #12.6
Original Review April 2018:
Jonty and Orlando have been enjoying some down time but they are hungry for a case. Their wish is granted but is it solvable when the dead man had no enemies? Is it even murder? Have they finally found a case that stumps even their brilliant history of deduction? Will the time before the dunderheads return be enough?
So many questions, so many possibilities, but would Jonty and Orlando really want it any other way? No. Would we the readers expect anything less? No. Well, good thing then because you won't be disappointed. Once again Charlie Cochrane takes this lovely pair and puts them through their detecting paces and we're lucky enough to be along for the ride. Would I have loved a full-length novel? Of course, I am a long read fiend but just because the tale is short in pages doesn't mean its short in awesomeness.
Lessons in Chasing the Wild Goose(great title BTW) gives us what we've come to know and expect from Jonty and Orlando's world: skullduggerry(because there is so much more to the case than what they are originally asked to investigate no other word would give it justice), humor, family(Livinia is doing her mother proud and Richard is even finding his father-in-law's shoes fitting quite well), friendship, and of course romance. If you are looking for lots of heat between Jonty and Orlando, than you might be disappointed but just because its not burning up the pages doesn't mean the passion doesn't shine through.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: This duo is so dynamic and fun to read that I will always 1-click this series, whether the author writes only 1 more one-page coda or 100 full-length tales. Jonty and Orlando have staying power. Not all series can say that but Cambridge Fellows Mysteries can and I look forward to seeing them detecting, dithering over dunderheads, and dalliances for many years to come, be it new journeys or re-reading their old cases this is one mystery solving couple that will never get old even if we see them advance into their senior years.
Lessons in Cracking the Deadly Code #12.7
Original Review January 2019:
As the revival of the St. Bride's Day traditional celebrations nears, signs of break-ins and crawling about the chapel roof have given Jonty Stewart and Orlando Coppersmith a new case. Is a dastardly crime afoot or is it just dunderhead pranks?OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD! A new Cambridge Fellows Mysteries is here and I finally got a chance to read it(holiday reading stopped me from getting to it sooner so I just told myself it wasn't out yet😉😉) What better way to start off the new year than with Jonty and Orlando on the case? I have been a huge fan of these boys since I first discovered Lessons in Love back in the summer of 2014 and I've said it before but I'll say it again: whether Charlie Cochrane has only a one paragraph holiday coda or 100 full length novels left in her for this pair, I'll be first in line to gobble them up. I don't know just what it is about this series that hooks me in but whatever it is, I'm all for it.
As for Lessons in Cracking the Deadly Code, well the mystery is fun and yes I know there is a bit of death and destruction involved but "fun" is the best way to describe it. An added plus with Deadly Code, as it is set back in 1911, the elder Stewarts are back and ready to help when needed. We see more of Mr. Stewart aiding the boys but we get still have the ever feisty Mrs. Stewart showing her favoritism to Orlando too😉😉. I think that's about all I'm going to say to the mystery part of the tale as it is a novella, the tiny details are even more telling than with a full length mystery but I will reiterate that it is just plain fun and had me guessing right up to the reveal. As for Jonty and Orlando, well they are equally as fun, flirty, and more in love than ever.
Yep, Lessons in Cracking the Deadly Code is a win win from the getgo! It has a little bit of everything, okay so there is no sci-fi or fantasy, but otherwise pretty much everything is here. Mystery, romance, friendship, flirting, death, humor -- oh yeah, Miss Cochrane has done her readers proud with this addition to the Cambridge Fellows. Speaking of the author, one of my favorite things about a Charlie Cochrane story is her attention to detail, to the little points that may or may not actually effect the mystery, and in the case of Cambridge her respect for the past just oozes off the page and yet the entertainment factor is never in jeopardy of being overshadowed by "getting it right". Definitely a win win from cover to cover.
One last thing, for those who have never read Cambridge Fellows Mysteries before and are wondering if it is a series that has to be read in order? Well not really. If you go to the author's website and look at the list, you'll notice that the series order isn't necessarily the chronological order. Personally, I would highly recommend reading the first three or four in order because it helps to cement friendships with secondary characters but each entry is its own mystery so technically each one is a standalone. However you choose to read it, if you are a mystery fan than don't let this series pass you by.
RATING:
Lessons in Loving the Murderous Neighbour #12.5
Cambridge 1922
“Owens? Owens?” Orlando Coppersmith’s voice sounded louder, and clearer, from his chair in the Senior Common Room at St Bride’s than it had ever sounded before. And with good cause.
“Steady on, old man. We’re in enough of a state of shock without you making sufficient noise to wake the dead.” Jonty Stewart smiled at his friend’s uncharacteristic outburst. Although friendship would hardly be the most accurate way to describe their relationship. Even the description “lovers, companions, colleagues and partners in solving crime” didn’t quite cover the depth of the bond they’d build up in nigh on twenty years. If their hair bore the odd silver thread, their ardour hadn’t cooled.
“Wake the dead or, harder still, wake some of the dons,” Dr. Panesar agreed, mischievously.
“Good point, Dr. P.” Jonty sniggered. “Some of them give the impression they’ve been asleep since 1913.”
A quick glance around the oak panelled room supported his assertion. St. Bride’s may have been one of the most forward looking of the Cambridge colleges, embracing the fact the year was 1922 rather than pretending it was still 1622, but some aspects of the university, including crusty old dons, seemed to be an immutable fixture.
“In which case,” Orlando pointed out, “we’d have ten years of history to explain to them, much of it unpleasant, let alone this latest scandal. St. Bride’s men being asked to defend Owens. What is the world coming to?”
Lessons in Chasing the Wild Goose #12.6
Cambridge 1922
Autumn in England is lovely enough, a palette of red and orange hues painting the trees and bushes, but autumn in Cambridge is perfection. Especially in the last few weeks of freedom before the dunderheads appear. And autumn in the Fellows’ Garden of St. Bride’s college seemed to have reached perfection this year, with a profusion of ornamental shrubs and small flowers—which Orlando Coppersmith couldn’t quite put a name to—twinkling beneath the trees. What he could put a name to was the colour of the sky, although no artist would recognise the term “Jonty Stewart’s eyes blue”. Yet that was exactly the shade the heavens had adorned themselves in.
The colour of the sky had prompted his visit to the garden, en route home from taking part in some “frightfully important and totally incomprehensible mathematical stuff” as Jonty would have termed it. Why not spend a few minutes in a place which had played a significant role in his burgeoning relationship with Jonty, sixteen years previously? The fact that he could sit on a bench and rest his aching legs for a while wasn’t lost on him, either. Why on earth had he agreed to take part in a late season cricket match, especially one against a team of such notable batsmen? Even Jonty’s wily spin had been to little avail, although he’d not had to go haring after the ball to all corners of the field, having inveigled himself into a place in the slips where running would be at a minimum.
Still, Orlando wasn’t going to complain: that would be conduct unbecoming of a Professor of Applied Mathematics and, worse than that, Jonty would rib him for it. Jonty, whom Orlando realised with a jolt, was not fifty yards down the path and might well be heading in his direction. He quickly produced a set of papers from his briefcase and contrived an air of intense concentration.
“I wondered if I’d find you here.” Jonty’s voice sounded through the railings of the gate he was poised to open.
Orlando looked up, as though completely surprised. “Oh, hello. I was trying to find a moment’s peace.” He waved the papers.
“Sorry. Didn’t realise you were hard at work with your sums. I thought you might be sunbathing. Or resting your legs after the cricket.” Jonty, having closed the gate carefully behind him, plonked his backside two feet along the bench.
“Why exactly did you think I might be here?” Orlando asked, neatly sidestepping the aching legs issue.
“You were seen by Swann, that rather nice new porter. Limping along—you, not him, and his words, not mine—in this general direction. I deduced,” Jonty grinned at the word, “that you’d not make it all the way home so would likely seek a few minutes of repose. And what nicer place could a man find to repose in than this?”
“That last point is indisputable,” Orlando conceded. “Although I’ll take issue with ‘limping’. I merely had a stone in my shoe at the time and had to find a suitable place in which to remove it. I have killed two birds with the proverbial stone.” He brandished the papers again, having realised he’d contradicted his earlier statement.
“You’re not very good at telling fibs, so I don’t know why you bother.” Jonty gazed up at the sky. “What a beautiful day. God’s in a very blue heaven and all is right with the world. Have you had a good morning?”
“Excellent, thank you.” Orlando slipped the papers back into his briefcase—what was the use of pretence? “You?”
“Pretty good. All set for the arrival of the dreaded dunderheads. I see the college staff are fumigating the rooms and nailing down anything pawnable in preparation.” Jonty narrowed his eyes then sighed. “All we need now is a case. I think I’ve sufficiently recovered from the last one.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever recover.” Orlando rolled his eyes. Being asked to defend one’s deadliest enemy on a charge of murder, and in circumstances where on first impressions he appeared to be as guilty as sin, would have tried the patience of any man.
Lessons in Cracking the Deadly Code #12.7
Cambridge 1922
“Owens? Owens?” Orlando Coppersmith’s voice sounded louder, and clearer, from his chair in the Senior Common Room at St Bride’s than it had ever sounded before. And with good cause.
“Steady on, old man. We’re in enough of a state of shock without you making sufficient noise to wake the dead.” Jonty Stewart smiled at his friend’s uncharacteristic outburst. Although friendship would hardly be the most accurate way to describe their relationship. Even the description “lovers, companions, colleagues and partners in solving crime” didn’t quite cover the depth of the bond they’d build up in nigh on twenty years. If their hair bore the odd silver thread, their ardour hadn’t cooled.
“Wake the dead or, harder still, wake some of the dons,” Dr. Panesar agreed, mischievously.
“Good point, Dr. P.” Jonty sniggered. “Some of them give the impression they’ve been asleep since 1913.”
A quick glance around the oak panelled room supported his assertion. St. Bride’s may have been one of the most forward looking of the Cambridge colleges, embracing the fact the year was 1922 rather than pretending it was still 1622, but some aspects of the university, including crusty old dons, seemed to be an immutable fixture.
“In which case,” Orlando pointed out, “we’d have ten years of history to explain to them, much of it unpleasant, let alone this latest scandal. St. Bride’s men being asked to defend Owens. What is the world coming to?”
Lessons in Chasing the Wild Goose #12.6
Cambridge 1922
Autumn in England is lovely enough, a palette of red and orange hues painting the trees and bushes, but autumn in Cambridge is perfection. Especially in the last few weeks of freedom before the dunderheads appear. And autumn in the Fellows’ Garden of St. Bride’s college seemed to have reached perfection this year, with a profusion of ornamental shrubs and small flowers—which Orlando Coppersmith couldn’t quite put a name to—twinkling beneath the trees. What he could put a name to was the colour of the sky, although no artist would recognise the term “Jonty Stewart’s eyes blue”. Yet that was exactly the shade the heavens had adorned themselves in.
The colour of the sky had prompted his visit to the garden, en route home from taking part in some “frightfully important and totally incomprehensible mathematical stuff” as Jonty would have termed it. Why not spend a few minutes in a place which had played a significant role in his burgeoning relationship with Jonty, sixteen years previously? The fact that he could sit on a bench and rest his aching legs for a while wasn’t lost on him, either. Why on earth had he agreed to take part in a late season cricket match, especially one against a team of such notable batsmen? Even Jonty’s wily spin had been to little avail, although he’d not had to go haring after the ball to all corners of the field, having inveigled himself into a place in the slips where running would be at a minimum.
Still, Orlando wasn’t going to complain: that would be conduct unbecoming of a Professor of Applied Mathematics and, worse than that, Jonty would rib him for it. Jonty, whom Orlando realised with a jolt, was not fifty yards down the path and might well be heading in his direction. He quickly produced a set of papers from his briefcase and contrived an air of intense concentration.
“I wondered if I’d find you here.” Jonty’s voice sounded through the railings of the gate he was poised to open.
Orlando looked up, as though completely surprised. “Oh, hello. I was trying to find a moment’s peace.” He waved the papers.
“Sorry. Didn’t realise you were hard at work with your sums. I thought you might be sunbathing. Or resting your legs after the cricket.” Jonty, having closed the gate carefully behind him, plonked his backside two feet along the bench.
“Why exactly did you think I might be here?” Orlando asked, neatly sidestepping the aching legs issue.
“You were seen by Swann, that rather nice new porter. Limping along—you, not him, and his words, not mine—in this general direction. I deduced,” Jonty grinned at the word, “that you’d not make it all the way home so would likely seek a few minutes of repose. And what nicer place could a man find to repose in than this?”
“That last point is indisputable,” Orlando conceded. “Although I’ll take issue with ‘limping’. I merely had a stone in my shoe at the time and had to find a suitable place in which to remove it. I have killed two birds with the proverbial stone.” He brandished the papers again, having realised he’d contradicted his earlier statement.
“You’re not very good at telling fibs, so I don’t know why you bother.” Jonty gazed up at the sky. “What a beautiful day. God’s in a very blue heaven and all is right with the world. Have you had a good morning?”
“Excellent, thank you.” Orlando slipped the papers back into his briefcase—what was the use of pretence? “You?”
“Pretty good. All set for the arrival of the dreaded dunderheads. I see the college staff are fumigating the rooms and nailing down anything pawnable in preparation.” Jonty narrowed his eyes then sighed. “All we need now is a case. I think I’ve sufficiently recovered from the last one.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever recover.” Orlando rolled his eyes. Being asked to defend one’s deadliest enemy on a charge of murder, and in circumstances where on first impressions he appeared to be as guilty as sin, would have tried the patience of any man.
Lessons in Cracking the Deadly Code #12.7
Jonty woke on St Bride’s day with a sense of foreboding, one which he couldn’t shake off, no matter how he tried telling himself not to be so stupid. Life didn’t resemble a mystery story, thank goodness, so it was highly unlikely that anyone would take advantage of the college festivities to commit murder most foul, having engineered themselves an ingenious and untraceable method of killing. The story of the night crawler and the book he’d been reading in bed had clearly been playing on his sub-conscious mind as he slept.
Over their ridiculously early breakfast he’d not been able to hide his unease from Orlando, who’d soon spotted something was wrong.
“It’s the old by the pricking of my thumbs thing. It’s totally illogical, on every ground, but I can’t persuade myself out of it, no matter how often I lecture myself, so please don’t try that one on me.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” Orlando patted his hand. “I’d also not discount your feelings. Some people have a knack of picking up little clues without being aware they’ve done so. I suspect you’re one, so maybe you’ve picked up something in the atmosphere. Some undergraduate with a particularly guilty expression on his face that he didn’t hide soon enough, an expression which you’ve unconsciously filed away.”
“Perhaps the night crawler himself?” Jonty smiled. “That’s possible. In which case I shall await the event with interest. Unless he’s loosened one of the gargoyles, of course, although Browne would have spotted if one of those had been rigged to fall. Having said that, an innocent prank might be welcome.”
Over their ridiculously early breakfast he’d not been able to hide his unease from Orlando, who’d soon spotted something was wrong.
“It’s the old by the pricking of my thumbs thing. It’s totally illogical, on every ground, but I can’t persuade myself out of it, no matter how often I lecture myself, so please don’t try that one on me.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” Orlando patted his hand. “I’d also not discount your feelings. Some people have a knack of picking up little clues without being aware they’ve done so. I suspect you’re one, so maybe you’ve picked up something in the atmosphere. Some undergraduate with a particularly guilty expression on his face that he didn’t hide soon enough, an expression which you’ve unconsciously filed away.”
“Perhaps the night crawler himself?” Jonty smiled. “That’s possible. In which case I shall await the event with interest. Unless he’s loosened one of the gargoyles, of course, although Browne would have spotted if one of those had been rigged to fall. Having said that, an innocent prank might be welcome.”
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Author Bio:
As Charlie Cochrane couldn't be trusted to do any of her jobs of choice - like managing a rugby team - she writes. Her favourite genre is gay fiction, predominantly historical romances/mysteries, but she's making an increasing number of forays into the modern day. She's even been known to write about gay werewolves - albeit highly respectable ones.
Her Cambridge Fellows series of Edwardian romantic mysteries were instrumental in seeing her named Speak Its Name Author of the Year 2009. She’s a member of both the Romantic Novelists’ Association and International Thriller Writers Inc.
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EMAIL: cochrane.charlie2@googlemail.com
Lessons in Loving the Murderous Neighbour #12.5
Lessons in Chasing the Wild Goose #12.6
Lessons in Cracking the Deadly Code #12.7
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