Summary:
Cambridge, 1906.
On the very day Jonty Stewart proposes that he and Orlando Coppersmith move in together, Fate trips them up. Rather, it trips Orlando, sending him down a flight of stairs and leaving him with an injury that erases his memory. Instead of taking the next step in their relationship, they’re back to square one. It’s bad enough that Orlando doesn’t remember being intimate with Jonty—he doesn’t remember Jonty at all.
Back inside the introverted, sexually innocent shell he inhabited before he met Jonty, Orlando is faced with two puzzles. Not only does he need to recover the lost pieces of his past, he’s also been tasked by the Master to solve a four-hundred-year-old murder before the end of term. The college’s reputation is riding on it.
Crushed that his lover doesn’t remember him, Jonty puts aside his grief to help decode old documents for clues to the murder. But a greater mystery remains—one involving the human heart.
To solve it, Orlando must hear the truth about himself—even if it means he may not fall in love with Jonty the second time around…
On the very day Jonty Stewart proposes that he and Orlando Coppersmith move in together, Fate trips them up. Rather, it trips Orlando, sending him down a flight of stairs and leaving him with an injury that erases his memory. Instead of taking the next step in their relationship, they’re back to square one. It’s bad enough that Orlando doesn’t remember being intimate with Jonty—he doesn’t remember Jonty at all.
Back inside the introverted, sexually innocent shell he inhabited before he met Jonty, Orlando is faced with two puzzles. Not only does he need to recover the lost pieces of his past, he’s also been tasked by the Master to solve a four-hundred-year-old murder before the end of term. The college’s reputation is riding on it.
Crushed that his lover doesn’t remember him, Jonty puts aside his grief to help decode old documents for clues to the murder. But a greater mystery remains—one involving the human heart.
To solve it, Orlando must hear the truth about himself—even if it means he may not fall in love with Jonty the second time around…
Summary:
It's September 1919, and Orlando Coppersmith should be happy...
WWI is almost a year in the past, he's back at St. Bride's College in Cambridge, he has his lover and best friend Jonty Stewart back at his side, and-to top it all-he's about to be made Forsterian Professor of Applied Mathematics.
With his inaugural lecture to give and a plagiarism case to adjudicate on, Orlando's hands are full, so can he and Jonty afford to take on an investigative commission surrounding a suspected murder? Especially one which must be solved within a month so that a clergyman can claim what he says is his rightful inheritance? The answer looks like being a resounding "no" when the lecture proves almost impossible to write, the plagiarism case gets turned back on him and Jonty (spiced with a hint of blackmail), and the case surrounding Peter Biggar's death proves to have too many leads and too little evidence.
Orlando begins to doubt their ability to solve cases any more, and his mood isn't improved when there seems to be no way of outsmarting the blackmailer. Will this be the first failure for Coppersmith and Stewart? And how will they maintain their reputations - professional, private, and as amateur detectives?
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 from August 2014:
After reading the first chapter in this entry, my heart was breaking for both Jonty and Orlando. For Orlando, because he was missing the past year of his life, for Jonty, because he didn't know if his lover would ever be his again. My heart pounded throughout the story wondering just how that part of the tale would work itself out. As for the mystery put before the pair, I knew they would be able to come to the truth of the historic debate but when solving a centuries old caper would proof ever be able to be definitive? You'll just have to read to find out. Now I'm off to read book 4: Lessons in Power.
Re-Read Review July 2016:
My heart still broke for Jonty and Orlando when Orlando took his fall, even knowing the hows and whys it still tore at me. I love this series even more the second time around.
Lessons for Survivors #9
Original Review August 2014:
Not quite a year out of the war and it looks like things are getting back to normal, or at least as normal as Jonty and Orlando are familiar with. Everything seems to come to their doorstep all at once, when doesn't it though? Just as Orlando is trying to write his lecture for his professorship, he's also on a committee that's overseeing a plagiarist case involving "the college next door" and the dreaded Owens that is still holding a grudge for not having solved the Woodville Ward case (Discovery #3) before Coppersmith and Stewart. But then a case comes for them to sink their teeth into, except there is a time limit, only one month. Seeing our beloved boys get back into the thick of things is amazing and fun. At the start, they seem to have lost a bit of their confidence in the deduction abilities, some due to the war and other due to still missing Jonty's parents, who were lost during the war to the influenza epidemic. Soon, they enlist the help of past friends and Jonty's sister, Lavinia and it seems that they just might be able to pull it off. Mixed with the usual humor we have come to know from the lovers and their unique way of looking at life, Lessons for Survivors is a great entry in this series.
Original Review August 2014:
Not quite a year out of the war and it looks like things are getting back to normal, or at least as normal as Jonty and Orlando are familiar with. Everything seems to come to their doorstep all at once, when doesn't it though? Just as Orlando is trying to write his lecture for his professorship, he's also on a committee that's overseeing a plagiarist case involving "the college next door" and the dreaded Owens that is still holding a grudge for not having solved the Woodville Ward case (Discovery #3) before Coppersmith and Stewart. But then a case comes for them to sink their teeth into, except there is a time limit, only one month. Seeing our beloved boys get back into the thick of things is amazing and fun. At the start, they seem to have lost a bit of their confidence in the deduction abilities, some due to the war and other due to still missing Jonty's parents, who were lost during the war to the influenza epidemic. Soon, they enlist the help of past friends and Jonty's sister, Lavinia and it seems that they just might be able to pull it off. Mixed with the usual humor we have come to know from the lovers and their unique way of looking at life, Lessons for Survivors is a great entry in this series.
Lessons in Cracking a 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.
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.
Lessons in Discovery #3
St. Bride’s College, Cambridge, November 1906
Champagne. A dressed Cromer crab. Strawberries.
How Jonty Stewart could have got hold of strawberries on the fifteenth of November only the angels could say, but there they were on the table along with a jug of cream and a bowl of sugar to indisputably prove their existence. Orlando Coppersmith reached across to take one of the little ruby-like fruits but a sharp slap to his hand stopped him.
“No pudding until firsts are done with, you know that.” Jonty grinned like a schoolboy and heaped crab upon their plates.
“Why all this opulence? I’ve not seen such a lunch in ages.” The bright noontime sun slanted in through the latticed windows of Jonty’s study, the mellow gold stone of St. Bride’s college shining with a warm lustre.
“Do you really not know, or are you teasing me again, in revenge for all the times I’ve teased you?” The blank look on Orlando’s face seemed to show that he really had no recognition of the significance of the date. “It’s exactly a year to the day that I came back to St. Bride’s and so underhandedly stole your chair in the Senior Common Room. Don’t you remember?”
Orlando smiled. “The day is forever etched into my memory. That afternoon was the last time I enjoyed any peace and quiet, for one thing.” A crab claw came flying through the air but he swerved neatly to avoid it. “This champagne is truly extraordinary.”
“Mother sent it, she always has champagne on her wedding anniversaries.” Jonty admired the sunlight-kissed bubbles then took a deep draught. “Do you know, the man who invented this compared it to tasting stars. He was absolutely right.”
Orlando looked at his glass with a degree of suspicion. “Just why did your mother send us champagne?”
“For our anniversary, of course. Do I need to spell it out to you like I spell out As You Like It to my dunderheads of students? She wanted us to have something special today, as she and Papa do.”
The answer didn’t mollify Orlando. He knew that Helena Stewart was aware of exactly what went on between him and her son, but this gift seemed a touch too blatant. He drank it nonetheless, enjoying the food, which he guessed Jonty’s mama had also had a hand in providing.
“Seems appropriate, really—” Jonty had finished his seafood and was ready for more chatter, “—as I often feel like we are a married couple in all but name. Oh, I say, let me slap your back.”
The food and drink had conspired to attempt an attack on Orlando’s lungs and he began to choke. A whack from Jonty’s strong hand dislodged the offending items, enabling him to take several breaths, and another glass of bubbly, to recover. “You feel like we’re married?”
“Of course I do, don’t you?”
“I’ve never thought of it. Still, I guess that marriage of any kind has never really entered my head.” Orlando frowned, having to mull over that common thing, a revolutionary thought from Jonty.
“Consider this. We spend as much time as we can together, we often share a bed, we take holidays with each other, we are absolutely faithful—well I am, I have my suspicions about you and that chap from the college next door—so many things that any respectable married couple would do. It’s only the matter of getting children that makes us different and neither of us have the anatomical requirement to oblige on that score.”
“And we can’t take the vows, Jonty, the marriage vows. No respectability for us.” Orlando knew it galled his lover, not being able to walk hand in hand together along the river, never to be able to dance together or show any untoward display of affection. Perhaps one day the world would be a more understanding place, but not now.
“Bit of a shame, if you think about it, because we live by them. ‘For better or worse, cleaving only to one another’ and all that. Think we might do a rather better job of it than some of my father’s friends.” Jonty sighed, refilled their glasses and ushered his guest from the table to the deep armchairs before the fireplace. “Such a shame that I can’t show everyone how much you mean to me.”
Orlando’s chest swelled with pride. He knew exactly how much they loved each other, and couldn’t help but bask in the glow every time Jonty said something like this. He reached for Jonty’s hand. “You mean the world to me, too.”
Jonty looked at him as if he was making absolutely sure of what he was about to say, which wasn’t a usual Stewart trait. “The university is modernising. These are new times. We don’t need to live in college anymore, you know. We could take a nice property up on the Madingley Road and set up house together. As long as we had a housekeeper who wouldn’t be too fussy about how many beds had been slept in. Miss Peters could probably find us a suitable one.”
“A house?” Dining out of college had been shock enough, going on holiday a jolt to the system, but to live outside of St. Bride’s, that was unheard of. “And why Miss Peters? You don’t think that she suspects about us?” Ariadne Peters was the sister of the Master of St. Bride’s, and the only woman apart from the nurse permitted to live in the college’s hallowed grounds.
“I think it quite likely that she does, she being possibly the most perceptive person in St. Bride’s. In any case, she’d be far too discreet to say anything as this college has seen enough scandal. Nonetheless think on the idea of a house. I don’t propose it idly.”
“I will think on it, but you must let me recover from my surprise at the suggestion before I can make a rational decision.”
Jonty nodded and they refilled their bowls with the last of the fruit. When there wasn’t even the merest hint of the existence of a strawberry left, Orlando wiped his hands with great precision then reached into his pocket. He drew out a small red box, which he handed to his friend. “Thought you might like this, as a memento of the last year.”
“So you did remember, you cunning old fox.” Jonty opened the lid and immediately shut it. “I can’t accept this, it must have cost you a small fortune. Take it back, get the money and put it in your savings.” He flushed red and couldn’t even look his lover in the eye.
“I will not take it back and you will accept it. You were the one who spoke of marriage, so perhaps this is an appropriate gift.” Orlando opened the box himself, taking out an exquisite signet ring—Welsh gold, of an amazing hue—that had been made specially to his order, great subterfuge and a piece of string having been used to gauge the size of Jonty’s little finger as he slept. “Please put it on for me.” He admired the golden circlet as it twinkled in the late-autumn light. Jonty could walk around Cambridge wearing his ring and it would always be symbolic of their union.
Jonty slid the band over his finger, pronounced amazement at the accuracy of fit, and grinned. “I’m ashamed to say I have no equivalent gift for you.”
“No need, strawberries in November are priceless. And you’ve given me the best year of my life.”
“Truly? Even including murder most foul, an unwanted suitor and our lives endangered?”
“Absolutely. Never been so happy.”
“And is that you talking or the champagne?” Jonty put his head to one side, like a bird.
“Oh, definitely me. The drink would make me say much naughtier things.”
Jonty smiled, indulgence lighting his face. “Let’s take a walk up to the lock and enjoy this unseasonably mild weather.” Through the latticed window the piercing blue of the sky, found only in England in spring and autumn, mirrored Jonty’s eyes. “Then we can come back here and read the sonnets together. Even number eighteen.”
Jonty liked the early sonnets, although Orlando had been terribly shocked to find out that the intended recipient had been a man. When he’d discovered number twenty-nine it had brought tears to his eyes, speaking to him so clearly of his own situation—the death of his father, the years of brooding and then the arrival of Jonty.
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate…
Orlando always read it every time he felt low, which was less and less often, now.
*****
It was such a fine afternoon, they ventured far beyond the lock to a stretch of river where a few rowing eights were practicing, their red-faced coaches cycling along the towpath, scattering ducks and little old ladies as they went.
“Did you ever attempt rowing, Dr. Coppersmith?” They’d been content to use Christian names when they were in public on holiday, but back in their own city they’d gone back to their usual formality.
“I did, with no great success. Every time I took to a boat I seemed to have acquired an extra pair of knees and all four of the bony things kept trying to smack me in the ear.”
Orlando laughed and Jonty laughed with him. Orlando’s attitudes had changed beyond all recognition this past year. Before Jonty had come and stolen his chair, he’d been sullen, unsmiling, someone who viewed intercourse as akin to the preparation of Egyptian mummies—he knew the procedures existed, but the mechanisms were a puzzle and the process itself of no interest. Neither love nor easy laughter would have been possible before Jonty came along. Anything was possible now, even intimacy. Now they made love for all sorts of reasons, not just for gratification but in friendship, for consolation, because they were happy or because they were sad.
Jonty smiled indulgently as they walked along, even while he was sniggering just a little at the sight of a seven-foot oarsman suffering a tongue-lashing from a cox who was all of four foot eleven. He could see this idyllic life stretching long into the future, God willing, with his true love by his side and a bank balance full of his grandmother’s money to support them in whatever they decided to do. To buy a little house, with an apple tree in the garden and a flowering cherry outside the bedroom window, that would be ideal. Some of the furniture held in store for him up in London or down in Sussex could grace it, although it might seem rather grand for a little villa up the Madingley Road. If Orlando would ever agree to their buying one.
The two men tired of watching the rowing, turned and began to amble back to the college, a slight anticipation starting to bubble up in Jonty’s stomach. There was every chance that he could get Orlando into a bed this afternoon, and that would be an absolute delight. Even if the mattress wasn’t visited there would still be at least a hug or two on the sofa which was always very pleasant. They’d reached a stage where the last favours were not the be-all and end-all, wonderful as they were. Jonty cast a glance across at his lover and caught him, unquestionably, in the same act of anticipation.
Orlando blushed, something that hadn’t happened for a long time. I know what you’re contemplating, Jonty mused. Great minds definitely do think alike.
Their pace quickened and by the time they reached the Bishop’s Cope they were no longer just ambling but striding along with great purpose. Their tempo was brisk by the time they passed the porters’ lodge and they positively sped up Jonty’s staircase, eager to find themselves alone and safe to express their affection.
Orlando was taking the steps two at a time, as usual, in his desire to be in the room as soon as possible. He misjudged the edge of a particularly worn stair, which had endured hundreds of years’ worth of treading and wasn’t inclined to be kind anymore, then slipped. Perhaps nine times out of ten a man might have done that and suffered no worse than bruised knees or a scraped hand. Orlando suffered the ignominies of the tenth, and went clattering halfway down the flight.
It was ironic. Orlando normally led the way, making the joke that Jonty should be behind him in case he slipped, so that there would be adequate padding to break his fall. But this day Jonty was ahead, even more eager to reach the room than his friend was. He heard the tumble, turned—dismayed—and rushed back.
“Orlando!” Their rule about names was immediately broken. This was a moment of crisis, as the minute Jonty looked down he could see that his friend wasn’t moving. “Can you hear me? Are you all right?” He reached the crumpled body, was relieved to see the chest rising and falling and to hear that the breathing sounded clear.
But there was no response, not even a moan, and blood had begun to trickle from the back of Orlando’s head.
Jonty leapt up, his heart racing and a nauseous feeling filling his stomach. He knocked at the nearest door, demanding that the occupant go to the lodge to make the porters fetch a doctor. The inhabitant of the next room was sent for Nurse Hatfield. He returned to keep an eye on Orlando, making sure that he was comfortable and not about to do anything dramatic like swallow his tongue. It was all he could do, apart from worry himself sick.
*****
Nurse Cecily Hatfield steamed up the stairs like a great ocean liner, cleaving a path through the knot of ghoulish students who’d formed to observe the scene and who’d ignored Jonty’s instructions to “bugger off”. They didn’t dare ignore the nurse’s rather more politely worded invitation to do the same.
“Don’t know why they do it,” she complained, kneeling down and efficiently checking Orlando over for breaks or bleeding. “Nothing interesting in another person’s distress, is there? Well, there are no bones broken as I far as I can see and I think—” she gingerly felt around Orlando’s head, “—the skull’s intact too. Bit of bleeding, but his breathing’s nice and steady. Not been sick, has he?”
Jonty shook his head, afraid to speak in case his voice betrayed him. He was petrified that the words No, he’s just lain there would actually come out as Please don’t let him die, I love him so much.
The doctor arrived promptly, the same man whom Jonty had first met over the dead body of a murdered man, years ago it seemed now. He made his own examination, confirming Nurse Hatfield’s initial diagnosis and advising that the man could be moved on a stretcher to the sick bay.
Jonty sped off to the porters’ lodge to organise the people and equipment to do this, glad to have something to do that was helpful and practical. Something which took his mind off the poor bloodied head lying on his staircase.
Time became distorted and things passed in a daze. It seemed to take forever to get Orlando onto the stretcher, then only a matter of seconds before he was being put onto a bed in the sick bay and the nurse was thrusting a piece of paper into Jonty’s hand. It was a list of things the patient might need, carefully written down,
“Because I’m not sure you’ll remember otherwise, Dr. Stewart. Not in your present state.” She’d no doubt recognised his need to be busy, filling him up with heavily sugared tea to give him the resources to do it. “I don’t want another young man falling down those stairs, this time because of fainting or delayed shock.”
While Jonty was away fetching Orlando’s nightclothes and wash bag, Orlando recovered consciousness and the extent of his injuries became clear. Or so Dr. Peters informed him as they met outside the door to the sickroom, his firm grip stopping Jonty barging straight in to greet his now-awakened friend.
“Dr. Coppersmith’s just with the doctor at present.” Peters saw Stewart’s worried look and smiled kindly. “He is in no danger, our medical friend seems quite confident about that. But there is something you should know before I let you in there. He’s lost some of his memory.”
“I don’t understand. Is this usual with a head injury?” Jonty was full of renewed concern. He’d heard Orlando go flying and seen the way his skull had struck the step; it worried him enormously.
“The doctor assures me that it is not abnormal. He may regain all that he has forgotten, eventually. He can remember the students coming back for the start of Michaelmas term…”
“Poor Orlando. He’s been hard at work on a treatise these last few weeks and now I suppose he’ll have to rethink it.” Jonty smiled tentatively.
“No, Dr. Stewart, I have expressed myself poorly. It is the Michaelmas term of last year he remembers, nothing since. I think it’s even possible that he will not recognise you.”
Lessons for Survivors #9
Orlando was pleased they’d not brought the motor car. Sauntering along King’s Parade with Jonty at his side and not a cloud in the piercingly blue sky, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that the shades of Helena Stewart and Grandmother Coppersmith were walking alongside him as well. He wasn’t sure he believed in God or heaven, even though Jonty was enthusiastic about both, but the thought of the two formidable women who had so shaped his life for the better being in cahoots in some ethereal realm, bossing the angels and telling Gabriel off for going around without his vest on, made the day even brighter.
All he needed now were two things. The first was for the ordeal of the next few hours to be over swiftly and without incident. Please God, his dodgy Achilles tendon, which hadn’t given him any gyp this last five years, wouldn’t decide that today was the day it had its revenge for presumed maltreatment and gave out, sending him arse over tip in the face of the congregation. The second was for his guardian angels, if they did exist, to send him a nice juicy problem to solve. And if they couldn’t manage a murder (which didn’t seem like the sort of thing to be praying for), then some other mystery, maybe one that had evaded all solution for years on end and that he and Jonty alone could master.
“Are you thinking about violent crime of some sort?” The perky voice at his side cut into Orlando’s daydream of knives, victims’ backs, and convoluted inheritances.
“How did you know?” How did Jonty Stewart always seem to know what was going on in his brain? Did it read like ticker tape all over the Coppersmith fizzog?
“You’ve got that look in your eye. The one that only comes when it’s been too long between cases.” Jonty grinned, and Orlando had to admit he was right. Time was when he would have bitten anyone’s hand off at the chance of a nice, complicated crime to investigate. Maybe those times were returning at last.
All he needed now were two things. The first was for the ordeal of the next few hours to be over swiftly and without incident. Please God, his dodgy Achilles tendon, which hadn’t given him any gyp this last five years, wouldn’t decide that today was the day it had its revenge for presumed maltreatment and gave out, sending him arse over tip in the face of the congregation. The second was for his guardian angels, if they did exist, to send him a nice juicy problem to solve. And if they couldn’t manage a murder (which didn’t seem like the sort of thing to be praying for), then some other mystery, maybe one that had evaded all solution for years on end and that he and Jonty alone could master.
“Are you thinking about violent crime of some sort?” The perky voice at his side cut into Orlando’s daydream of knives, victims’ backs, and convoluted inheritances.
“How did you know?” How did Jonty Stewart always seem to know what was going on in his brain? Did it read like ticker tape all over the Coppersmith fizzog?
“You’ve got that look in your eye. The one that only comes when it’s been too long between cases.” Jonty grinned, and Orlando had to admit he was right. Time was when he would have bitten anyone’s hand off at the chance of a nice, complicated crime to investigate. Maybe those times were returning at last.
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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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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Cambridge Fellows Mysteries
Sunday's Short Stack
Alasdair and Toby Investigations
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.
Happily married, with a house full of daughters, Charlie tries to juggle writing with the rest of a busy life. She loves reading, theatre, good food and watching sport. Her ideal day would be a morning walking along a beach, an afternoon spent watching rugby and a church service in the evening.
NEWSLETTER / KOBO / RIPTIDE
EMAIL: cochrane.charlie2@googlemail.com
Lessons in Discovery #3
Lessons for Survivors #9
Lessons in Cracking the Deadly Code #12.7
The Case of the Grey Assassin #2
Alasdair & Toby and Cambridge
The Case of the Undiscovered Corpse #1/#3
