Black Veil

By Carter Seagrove

Alfred and Adam have been given a mission to bring a star witness from the Riviera to London to testify in a murder trial. Before they leave Le Havre on their way to Paris, they are beset by anarchists and Fenchurch’s beloved Lancia Lambda is blown to smithereens.

Black Veil is less of the traditional ‘whodunnit’ and more the international crime/spy mystery ... a creative experiment which had both Alp and Chambers slightly crazy, researching the 1930’s, mythological Bugatti supercars and metaphysics

Inspector Alfred Fenchurch and his sidekick, PC Adam Cowley, were both born on the island of Jersey. They work for the Bristol Constabulary when not answering the call from Fulshard, the head of a special Anglo-French law enforcement unit. Inspector Alfred Fenchurch is part-English and part-French, obsessed with the metaphysical poets, Italian sports cars, and owns a house in Le Havre. Adam Cowley is Alfred’s one time childhood friend now devoted lover, never the stooge.

Black Veil is the second Inspector Fenchurch Mystery and follows on from the first story in the Fenchurch series, The Blakely Affair.

We hope that you thoroughly enjoy the story and feedback is always welcome. Please visit our website to find out what we’re working on next.

Thank you!
Carter Seagrove

• Language: English
• Publisher: XinXii
• Release date: May 9, 2015
• ISBN: 9783959262965

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Author’s Note

Black Veil, is the second Inspector Fenchurch Mystery, and another of the outputs of the collaboration between the authors Alp Mortal and Chambers Mars. Black Veil follows on from the first story in the Fenchurch series, The Blakely Affair.

Black Veil is less of the traditional ‘whodunnit’ and more the international crime/spy mystery ... a creative experiment which had both Alp and Chambers slightly crazy, researching the 1930’s, mythological Bugatti supercars and metaphysics ...

Inspector Alfred Fenchurch and his sidekick, PC Adam Cowley, were both born on the island of Jersey. They work for the Bristol Constabulary when not answering the call from Fulshard, the head of a special Anglo-French law enforcement unit. Inspector Alfred Fenchurch is part-English and part-French, obsessed with the metaphysical poets, Italian sports cars, and owns a house in Le Havre. Adam Cowley is Alfred’s one time childhood friend now devoted lover, never the stooge.

This story centres on the apparent mission to bring a star witness from the Riviera to London to testify in a murder trial. The apparent mission because before the men have left Le Havre on their way to Paris to meet with Fulshard, they are beset by anarchists and Fenchurch’s beloved Lancia Lambda is blown to smithereens.

We hope that you thoroughly enjoy the story and feedback is always welcome. Please feel free to email us and please visit the websites to find out what we’re working on next.

Thank you!

Carter Seagrove

Contact Information

www.carterseagrove.weebly.com

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www.alpmortal.weebly.com

www.chambersmars.weebly.com

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Chapter One – Sea Legs

When you said that you’d booked a berth ...

Stop complaining. We’ll stay at the house tomorrow; I have to collect the car from Couture’s ...

Quiet at last or will there be another question before we roll ourselves up like two silk worms. It wasn’t my fault that the berth merely had bunks and the distance between the edge of the bunk and the panel which separates us from the next berth is barely two feet.

Alfred ...

Yes, Adam ...

Is it wrong?

"No ... it is not wrong. Wrong is someone scratching my car and smashing the windscreen simply because I love you."

If it isn’t wrong then why do we try to hide it?

Because I can’t afford to keep taking the car to Couture’s ... go to sleep.

It’s a poor answer but I’m tired from the journey.

Alfred ...

Yes, Adam ...

The pause is excruciating; my very blood cells have stopped circulating should the sound of their rushing about, which fills my ears with a roaring, drown out the words which-

I never go to sleep without a kiss ...

For a moment I am angry and even conjure up the words of remonstration but they melt when I hear the truth and remember that I never go to sleep without a kiss.

Levering myself out of the bunk, which is akin to clambering out of a coffin, I unfold myself and stand upright, bringing my head level with the top bunk. Adam leans over the rail and in the dim light I can see that he is smiling, not grinning but smiling.

I’m sorry for being a grouch; I’m tired - I know you are too - forgive me.

Recite some poetry to send me off.

I thought you wanted a kiss.

I do ... but when you recite poetry, the words fuck me ...

For a man of barely twenty-one, he is exceedingly, and bewilderingly, oblique ...

What would you like?

"Donne’s The Dream."

We kiss but not for very long; in truth, as it was he who drove all the way, he’s already dropping off.

"Dear love, for nothing less than thee

Would I have broke this happy dream;

It was a theme

For reason, much too strong for fantasy.

Therefore thou waked'st me wisely; yet

My dream thou brokest not, but continued'st it.

Thou art so true that thoughts of thee suffice

To make dreams truths, and fables histories;

Enter these arms, for since thou thought'st it best,

Not to dream all my dream, let's act the rest."[1]

I can hear his gentle breathing and the air escaping from between his slightly parted lips. It was the same when he was an infant and my mother baby-sat him for his mother. I’d peer over the edge of the crib and wonder at the dreams running through his head, hoping they were good dreams and not bad dreams like mine.

My mother would say ‘don’t wake him’. I’d lean over as far as I could and kiss his lips, feeling his hot little puffs of breath on my cooler lips. I loved him then but not as I do now. Then it was innocent and largely because my mother said that we needed to look after