![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Newsletter 188
Nov. 24th, 2017 11:17 amNow, I hate to depress or excite you, depending upon how you view these things, but it’s one month to Christmas Eve. I’m in the excited camp, and I have to confess that this week I’ve been getting out my Christmas playlists. Before I get all mistletoe and wine, though, I’d like to wish (slightly belatedly) a happy Thanksgiving to those of you who celebrate it.
News
It’s the season of giving, so the next newsletter will come with an exclusive story, just for subscribers. It’s the latest adventure for Billy Zanderson and Jonny Telfer, the two chaps who featured in Shell Shocked, a story of everyday were-armadillos. Also, throughout Advent and the Christmas season I’ll be stuffing my blog with free stories, some old, some long lost, and some brand spanking new, all applicable to the time of year. I’ll link some of them here, but in between you can find them by visiting my blog stream.
Call to Arms, the charity anthology from Manifold, has had its first review, and it’s smashing.
Of my story, Better to Die, the reviewer says: What a great way to finish off this anthology. Haunting and powerful and although not set in WWII it still has a connection.
The cover for the third Lindenshaw mystery book, Two Feet Under, is now revealed. There’s Campbell (or a close cousin maybe) in all his slobbery glory.
I always post an excerpt and this time I’m giving you a bit of a work in progress, which is at the edit stage. The next Cambridge Fellows short, which will be out next year, has the working title Lessons in Chasing the Wild Goose.
The wrath of Mrs. Ward the housekeeper having been cut off in the bud—she was always pleased to hear that her gentlemen had a case in the offing—Jonty and Orlando repaired to the latter’s college room. No sooner were they through the door, having had to clamber over some decorating equipment en route, than Jonty insisted on being told everything.
Orlando settled himself into his chair before replying. “There isn’t much to tell. The consultation request came from Dr. Beattie. What he wishes to discuss I do not know, but he says that it’s both urgent and important.”
“Dr. Beattie? Dr. Beattie. Hm.” Jonty, settled in a chair which would usually have a dunderhead’s bottom on it, theatrically put his fingers to his brow. “Can you remind me who he is?”
“You know exactly who I mean.” Orlando frowned; he knew what game was going on. “There’s only one Beattie of our acquaintance, I believe.”
“History chap? Ascension College?” Jonty’s air of innocence could not have fooled a blind man in a dense fog. It wouldn’t fool one of his own students when they were discussing Hamlet. “I vaguely remember him.”
Orlando ignored the protestation of poor memory. He knew his partner too well—the man was as sharp as a pin. “I said you knew him. And if he wants to consult us, then it would be unsporting not to oblige a university colleague.”
“I wonder what sort of a case it is. Maybe he’s lost his wool. The stuff he pulls over his students’ eyes.” Jonty grinned. “You know what these historian chaps are like. All theories. No proof.”
“Beattie’s not like that. He’s—” Orlando stopped, aware of the trap a moment too late to avoid falling in it.
“He’s what? Handsome, I seem to remember, from the rare occasions I’ve been allowed to meet him. Sympathetic. Intelligent—for an historian—and with a certain air to him.” Jonty waved his hand, as though searching for the right words. “A man of culture and good taste.”
Orlando cut in, before the play acting went too far. “He’s supposed to be rigorous in his approach to his subject. Or so one of the maths men from Ascension tells me.”
“I’ve heard the same, actually.” Jonty’s forced look of innocence got discarded. “He’s highly regarded in the college and the university. I’d be pleased to help him. Not the slightest clue to what it’s about?”
“Not the faintest.”
And finally, it has to be something to get us in the mood. So from the Matt Hampson calendar of 2014...
Charlie
News
It’s the season of giving, so the next newsletter will come with an exclusive story, just for subscribers. It’s the latest adventure for Billy Zanderson and Jonny Telfer, the two chaps who featured in Shell Shocked, a story of everyday were-armadillos. Also, throughout Advent and the Christmas season I’ll be stuffing my blog with free stories, some old, some long lost, and some brand spanking new, all applicable to the time of year. I’ll link some of them here, but in between you can find them by visiting my blog stream.
Call to Arms, the charity anthology from Manifold, has had its first review, and it’s smashing.
Of my story, Better to Die, the reviewer says: What a great way to finish off this anthology. Haunting and powerful and although not set in WWII it still has a connection.
The cover for the third Lindenshaw mystery book, Two Feet Under, is now revealed. There’s Campbell (or a close cousin maybe) in all his slobbery glory.
I always post an excerpt and this time I’m giving you a bit of a work in progress, which is at the edit stage. The next Cambridge Fellows short, which will be out next year, has the working title Lessons in Chasing the Wild Goose.
The wrath of Mrs. Ward the housekeeper having been cut off in the bud—she was always pleased to hear that her gentlemen had a case in the offing—Jonty and Orlando repaired to the latter’s college room. No sooner were they through the door, having had to clamber over some decorating equipment en route, than Jonty insisted on being told everything.
Orlando settled himself into his chair before replying. “There isn’t much to tell. The consultation request came from Dr. Beattie. What he wishes to discuss I do not know, but he says that it’s both urgent and important.”
“Dr. Beattie? Dr. Beattie. Hm.” Jonty, settled in a chair which would usually have a dunderhead’s bottom on it, theatrically put his fingers to his brow. “Can you remind me who he is?”
“You know exactly who I mean.” Orlando frowned; he knew what game was going on. “There’s only one Beattie of our acquaintance, I believe.”
“History chap? Ascension College?” Jonty’s air of innocence could not have fooled a blind man in a dense fog. It wouldn’t fool one of his own students when they were discussing Hamlet. “I vaguely remember him.”
Orlando ignored the protestation of poor memory. He knew his partner too well—the man was as sharp as a pin. “I said you knew him. And if he wants to consult us, then it would be unsporting not to oblige a university colleague.”
“I wonder what sort of a case it is. Maybe he’s lost his wool. The stuff he pulls over his students’ eyes.” Jonty grinned. “You know what these historian chaps are like. All theories. No proof.”
“Beattie’s not like that. He’s—” Orlando stopped, aware of the trap a moment too late to avoid falling in it.
“He’s what? Handsome, I seem to remember, from the rare occasions I’ve been allowed to meet him. Sympathetic. Intelligent—for an historian—and with a certain air to him.” Jonty waved his hand, as though searching for the right words. “A man of culture and good taste.”
Orlando cut in, before the play acting went too far. “He’s supposed to be rigorous in his approach to his subject. Or so one of the maths men from Ascension tells me.”
“I’ve heard the same, actually.” Jonty’s forced look of innocence got discarded. “He’s highly regarded in the college and the university. I’d be pleased to help him. Not the slightest clue to what it’s about?”
“Not the faintest.”
And finally, it has to be something to get us in the mood. So from the Matt Hampson calendar of 2014...
Charlie
