The memoirs of a sick man

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

A in progress story about a talented medical genius who is invited to brake his ordinary routine in order to go to a medical gathering where something out of the ordinary happens which changes his
life for the better and the worse

Submitted: December 10, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 10, 2017



Chapter 1 the life of Monte
This story is about a strange Doctor named Montgomery Cohen. Whom seven years ago today, witnessed the murder of a fellow doctor who’s name I cannot reveal for it would ruin the story and make you readers knowledgeable about the end of the book. Now if I did that would there be any point in reading this melancholy script? Why no. So you’ll just have to deal with the harshness of it. Our humble story begins in the obvious choice of setting, London town where a recognizable jingle of coal fires escape from uncleaned chimneys and reverberate softly from the intimidating walls of the cotton factories, corner shops and the local deli ran by people named Bruce or Terry. The busy tempo of people and the breaking of train schedules create a deafening crescendo that beckons for the sleeping city to wake.

As ever the Doctor started his morning with a brief check of his pocket watch; which gently rested upon the bedside table. The watch always sat on top of a copy of the local newspaper and a half finished copy of David Copperfield by Charles Dickens, a writer he obviously admired. After this encounter the doctor (in his robe) made his way successfully down the stairs of his humble abode. He perched himself on a chair in order to eat breakfast he spent no time in gorging himself with a slice of 90p bread of which was slavered in butter and a hint of jam. This was Monte’s normal breakfast, in fact he had been eating bread, butter and jam for almost eighteen and a half miserable years in that time he had cured 347 patients and he had only lost 5 not including Mrs. Abigail that he could hardly scrape from the footpath. This astonishing career was why Monte lived in the mansion, on the end of 96th street. Yet again Dr. Monte was called to assist training doctor Thomas Avery, with a patient suffering from Epicondylitis a common operation, which Monte had performed many times. Because of this and the fact that Monte had a diploma in science, meant that he was the write man for the job. Putting on his grey trench coat at exactly eleven o’clock in the morning Monte made his way out of his house like a sheep running away from a wolf. To be honest Monte only wanted to get this call for duty over with so he could beat the morning traffic back to his warm and favorable house, of which he could cascade himself in his grandpa’s wooden, oak rocking chair. That sat silent next to his vast collection of music and books that he sourced from his local libraries and shops, in that regard the doctor was a fiend, in the medical industry however Monte was the Messiah of broken bones and fractured pelvises for this Monte was glad.

Going back 37 years Montgomery Cohen was on the scene of a crime one of Mary Schneider who was bludgeoned beyond recognition. Her husband, Timothy gave an extremely detailed description including the line ‘it definitely wasn’t me’ which assured Monte, who was interviewing the subject that it was in fact Tim that killed his wife. In fact the reason for the crime was over a debt of 5 pound of which she spent on a cheap crocodile handbag that couldn’t repay the debt. This petty memory was quickly captured from Monte’s head as the repetitive shouting of his carriage driver ushered the doctor into his vehicle. A letter sneakily put in the Doctors pocket by an unfathomably sneaky 10-year-old boy; whilst Monte was daydreaming, caught his attention. The envelope, stamped with wax enthralled the doctor. With no haste Cohen ripped the sealing like a pack of lions feasting on a recently caught, smoldering gazelle. With a swift unsheathing of rounded glasses the doctor gazed at the ink that was engraved upon the novelty paper, it read:

“To whom it may concern” this bit was entirely cryptic. “My friends and I at London ward would like you to attend a humble gathering of famous names involved with medicine. This will give you a chance to reveal new discoveries and inventions that you might like to present to the board of the TPE.”
Monte looked deeper into the piece of paper moving his head forward like a chicken trying to read the sarcastically calligraphied certificate of invitation. The letter continues, “this secret gathering must not be revealed to anyone who you do not trust, this includes the rude and quite deceitful carriage driver of yours.”

Monte scoffed.

“If you would like to attend the address will be sent through your door as soon as you help the incompetent mind known as Thomas Avery get his falsified Doctorate, until then safe travels and good luck”

The letter was unsigned. Although three letters were printed plainly on the bottom of the comedic letter so much so Monte couldn’t miss it if he was a mole rat just recently surfaced from his home underground they read ‘T.P.E’ written in big bold red ruby ink. Monte didn’t acknowledge the strange array of letters clumsily printed on the page. He just set it aside for later in the day.

Ten and a half gruesome and truly embarrassing hours later, Monte took of his unnecessarily bloody surgeon gloves off and proceeded to trundle home nonchalantly

After 15 minutes of true solidarity Monte unlocked his oak door clumsily dropping his rusted key into a puddle that rises a solid 2 inches over his steel capped boots. As he leant down to collect the slippery keys he remembers the mysterious and almost illusive letter he read on his way to Thomas Avery’s doctoring disaster. Like lightning from a storm cloud the thunder of Monte’s door slamming against the broken coat rack welcomed the doctor into his house with a tremendous crash of relief. The doctor’s hat that had sat on his head soaking up the skies feeling and in fact the doctors. Proceeded to smile at the excitement in Monte’s eyes as he tore open a letter soaked with the soot from a chimney sweeps hands. This letter kept with it the address Cohen was promised alas he would go but first to bed. Cohen with his robe on made his way up the wooden hill and clambered into his king size bed in a room surely for built for two. As he had done for the last 6570 days the doctor lay his watch on his table to sleep.

Chapter II the search
‘Knock, knock.’ The door calls for the doctor
‘Knock, knock.’ The city is getting impatient
‘Knock, knock.’ Monte is awake

Like the un-rooting of a great birch tree the doctor hurries down the stairs, his footsteps like an axe on age-old oak.
At last the door is open and on the formidable doorstep stands Monte’s carriage man a reasonably big gentleman in a tight suit and top hat that because of his completion looked as though his own tie was choking him. Ready to take Monte the driver took it upon himself to carry all three of Monte’s cumbersome brown business cases
Into his carriage before ushering Cohen to his seat inside the vehicle

In a matter of three and a half minutes that hardly required the aid of a carriage Cohen finally tumbled out of his transport at the scene of his destination a fairly rustic and underappreciated building who’s polished tip towered above the discourteous blanket of soot and pollution. The ringing of a masqueraded woman’s tonsils cut through the crisp morning air like scissors on fabric. Cautiously the doctor began to walk carefully towards the woman who’s features were concealed by a milk coloured crow mask the replicated her skin colour perfectly. With a shriek like the bird she was personifying the woman welcomed Monte into the menacing building with upmost hierarchy. The woman explained that she was in fact the person who had written to him about the even he was about to be involved with. Before leaving him to his own devices the Woman whispered in Monte’s ear she said “I wouldn’t get to know anyone in their otherwise you could loose you’re head” she sniggered before wreathing into the poisonous fog of party goers. Because of his shortened bowl movements and the fact that he’d broken his usual routine of eating bread, butter and jam meant that Montgomery was called by nature to attend the nearest toilet cubicle. After what he thought was an hour but in reality it was ten minutes Cohen found himself in the male’s lavatories. Whilst doing some unspeakable act in cubicle number 4 he overheard a conversation that he guessed was supposed to be secret

“Cohen is coming right?” a sort of lavish voice exclaimed in the bluntest of tones
“Yes good chap now have you rimmed his glass with the solution we have created” this voice was deeper and spoke with authority
“Yes” the other, responded as they both made their way flamboyantly out of the gentleman’s toilets. Like a hawk hunting it’s pray Cohen spotted the great rubber boots one of the men had squeezed onto his suffocating feet.

Chapter III unraveling
Appearing from the toilet like the Holy Ghost, Monte went in search of the people who had stood in the bathroom and plotted what Monte thought was his demise. After 10 minutes of being barged through a crowd of drunken doctors later Cohen gave up trying to find his questionably honest schemers and sat himself upon an unstable barstool next to his driver who he didn’t notice came in with him and a brunette woman who was dressed in the most revealing thing Monte could imagine. A drink is placed in Monte’s hand by the bar keep. As a Good Samaritan Cohen suggests that he didn’t order such a beverage. The woman turned to him sneakily putting away what looked like a lipstick capsule. “Its on me” she sauntered without letting so much as a breath of confusion escape his lips. “Cohen?” She questioned. He nodded with satisfaction since no one had quite greeted him as she had done. “I am a big fan of your work and I have read you’re quite page turning memoirs of your unquestionable theories into the universe” she continues “ I didn’t realize you were an astronomy scientist as were a medical one” she pondered out loud “who on earth would’ve though the earth revolved around the sun, I exclaim that truly preposterous but intelligent and well thought non the less” she Finally concluded although the only response from Cohen was the odd awkward smile or approving grunt. She protested “drink up old man before your life withers before your eyes” this bit confused Cohen.

Like a flash of radiant light the woman disappeared into the now sharp atmosphere of the gathering. A jingle of an over priced glass ringing from the vibrations of a silver spoon surrounded the room. “Ladies and gentle please take your seats” this shrill voice broke the silence “will Thomas Avery, Margret young, Charlotte Percival and Montgomery Cohen please join me in the Edinburgh suite. Cohen, as surprised as expected, made his way up to the room he was required in. with a masculine beating on the Sloe coloured door Monte was welcomed in. the room was modish and extensively well cleaned, as the three others had done before him Cohen situated himself on a cushioned rocking chair that was situated in the middle of the room along with three others all together forming a suspicious circle around a table. All the other three people were already sat and Monte noticed one was the woman he had met at the bar; the other woman was the one who welcomed him in quite abruptly. The other male he knew well it was Thomas Avery, the student who completely failed the doctorate examination that Monte so hastily attended.
Chapter IV mishap
The voice from the hall that had requested this insightful gang wore pale, wrinkled skin and the clothes of a posh aristocratic and almost Napoleonic soldier. The man, struggling to walk, confronted the four members o this secret meeting and explained why they had been ushered he spoke in whispers as though he believed someone he did not was trust was watching him. He explained that he was the owner of a huge sum of money an that he was also the top of a gigantic embassy that dealt with foreign chemical terrorist acts and that the franchise monitored the whole of the worlds chemical and biological research into weapons or agriculture.
This amazingly persuasive speech impressed all but one in the room since all the members were scientists or armatures at least.
In the corner of his eye he could see the woman from the bar applying lipstick, he was convinced she couldn’t care less about the science but when the host mentioned money she seemed all too eager. A crash of cartilage broke his eye bond. The host was dead. The door was locked only three people could be the suspects.

But who?

Because Monte once worked for the police he realized he held handcuffs in his right coat pocket that he refused to empty. This gave him the advantage of finding out that the murderer was.
Assuming the righteous role of detective the deviant doctor set to work to narrow down the alibies and the reasons of murder for each person. Before all this Monte assed the body and recorded that the carcass had a vigorous slashes on his right wrist that he suspected had nothing to do with his murder since they had scarred over. “Old age” the dashing woman exclaimed encapsulating her blood red lipstick and concealing it in her bag. Everyone agreed. “No!” the other woman broke “ he has a dart in his neck. She was right a short poisonous dart was lodged into his jugular. She continued “so who could know where to shoot the dart in order to kill him and who would have a tool powerful enough to shoot it.” she glanced towards Monte “doctor you have extensive knowledge of the body?’ Cohen agreed reluctantly “its you! Who else would know where to shoot that poor man?” “Who would come to the conclusion that it would need to be shot?” shouted Cohen expressing his dominance of this situation. The bar known woman smirked with joy as the formidable click of a Victorian flintlock pistol caused Monte’s hair to stand on end. This sound he knew too well from the inspector training to a local gunfight.

Chapter V Avery
It was Avery who held his pistol high behind the head of Montgomery Cohen and suspense made him more nervous.
Cohen had finally deducted why Avery was guilty, Thomas had joined the medical assessment team that Cohen was forced to in order to learn about critical and severe areas of the human body this would also give him an alibi for the police. As well as this Cohen spotted Avery collecting something from an antique shop on the way home, Monte supposed this was the weapon calmly and almost instantaneously Cohen remembered some of the training he had had to undergo in order to become the polices inspector, this included fighting, so as any good hero Monte put this to the test!
Cohen swiped at Avery’s feet with a precise and devastating sweep that knocked Thomas onto the ground with an uproarious thud that shuddered the room like an earthquake. The mopey moans of Avery haunted the conservation that followed. ‘Why did you do it?’ screams Monte’s emotions, Avery replies as if he is being mind controlled by the powerful doctor “this geriatrics life was just hanging by a sting” he said this insanely “I though it could be beneficial for a man with financial and mental problems to end the poor sod and steal his worth in gold” he laughed maniacally whilst he places a cyanide capsule in his mouth and prepares to bite. Monte picking up Thomas’ gun and wallet threatens the man. Cohen looks upon a wallet his wallet and finds an inmate ID for the local mental asylum it reads

The Labeth Hospital for the mentally insane

Name: Walter Richard Sickert
‘Occupation’: painter
Condition: critical

This as well as the murder of the host convinced Monte that this man was not Thomas Avery in fact Cohen believed Tom was murdered as his estate and a person who was crazier than a March hare stole his persona.
This as well as the blind assault that was set out upon Monte resulted in the psychopath to commit suicide before anyone could hale for the police. Monte being the highest in status instructed the survivors to look for a way out of the locked room of which they were positioned. This took approximately 2 minutes since the golden and almost holy key was situated in the deceased hosts top blazer pocket, this of course took a minute of time since no one wanted obstruct the sleep of the dead.
As soon as they were out of the morgue scented room the doctor went about finding his carriage driver, as he was tired of having to deal with the nonsense being hurled at his completion.
Chapter VI Ah…Ha
Finally his driver was found outside tipping his pipe at two conflicting gentlemen who’s rubber boots squeaked as they handed him a drink and scurried off like the coming of Christmas day the driver finished the beverage in a record breaking 2 second before realizing the doctor was watching from afar. Being a man with short temper Monte just wanted to go home but for solidarity Cohen wanted to see if his theory was true.
A swift right turn and a careful parking maneuver later and the doctor arrived from his vehicle as he had done with the part and inspected his surroundings. This building wasn’t as swanky as the party venue but The doctor was prepared for the worse however he wasn’t ready for the icy shards of November rain to pierce through his famished auburn hair. As a result of this Monte ran into the worn apartments and immediately slipped and fell on the newly polished floor. Recovering from his trip, Cohen began hiking up the steep wooden stairs that ascended up the wall of the common lodging house. Screaming, crying and moaning informed the once inspector that this hub was not abandoned. As a remote friend of Thomas Avery Cohen believed he knew where the man used to live. With a solid jolt of the door handle and a barge on the door the doctor finally found himself standing in Avery’s private library this is where he used to educate himself with the biology of the human body yet again another door was in the way of Cohen’s theory. With a harder slam than the ones previous the doctor made his way into Avery’s bathing room where to no surprise he found the body of Thomas Avery. The dead carcass was set in the bath to make the death look like a suicide, Cohen deducted this by the violent slash marks on Thomas’ raw wrist, this scene disgusted Cohen, making causing him to conclude his case of the brutal murder and identity theft of training Dr. Thomas Avery.

Chapter VII nothing more to say?
Shortly after finding a brutally beaten body Mr. Cohen continued to browse the book case in Thomas’ home in order to find some good read, however all the books except four were turned so that the titles o such books would not be revealed to the peeping eye the titles of the books made an anagram of I.N.S.A.N.I.T.Y this was ironic on humorous to Cohen even though he knew it shouldn’t of been considering the circumstance of which the doctor had found himself in. Now the doctors finely polished shoes were drenched in blood this was also the case with the cuffs that surrounded his wrists, his new breaches that he had only hours ago cleansed smelt of tobacco and blood. The aroma of horse dung that had set up camp on his waistcoat meant that he had to give up on his looks and make his way back through the storm of hideous lodging sounds.

Arriving from the smoke of deluge arrived the devil of doctoring himself, drenched in the troubled tribulation of a terrible day. After all these shenanigans had happened Monte just wanted to get home to his rocking chair of which he had been fantasizing about all day

His driver dizzily lulled Cohen into his carriage, which unsettled Monte to no means, but Montgomery just wanted to get home. Unknown by the doctor the driver of the carriage had been drinking heavily and also was drugged by the same people that Monte overheard in the cubicle. This was only apparent whilst Monte’s carriage began to swerve of the road quite swiftly; this was because the driver Mr. Jackson (who’s name he had only remembered in this instant also) had passed out fallen onto the stone embodied road. This meant a half tone; two horse drawn carriage and Dr. Monte were heading straight for the bottom of Thames. This only occurred to the doctor now since he was so busy daydreaming about his age-old rocking chair. In an instant the vehicle made contact with the water like a person who had just recently flung himself from a towering building. Because of the design of carriage the only way to open he passenger door was with a golden key that lay in the drivers pocket, this was problematic since the driver who was twenty feet above him kept the life saving key in the top of his waistcoat. Monte without a moment to loose, thrashed his blooded elbows into the glass causing it to shatter this didn’t end his problems though as he and the hell like carriage had already sunk ten meters below the crisp waves of the Thames. As a decisive man the doctor knew he could make the swim to the surface and even have some air to spare, like a untrained lion appearing from its cage the established gent made his way speedily, longing only for a breath of the polluted London air. A crash from above highlighted the urgency of which Cohen’s mind was supposed to be working as parts of the fractured bridge began to bombard the rivers silhouetted surface with upmost precision. A deep breath later and the doctor had surfaced from the abyss that lurked beneath him, the moon shined like an eye gazing at his outspoken thoughts.

After gently drying himself off with a scrap of thrown cloth the well off man clambered the ladder that welcomed him back on to the dry lands of this dystopia, yet again Monte found himself overcome with curiosity and confusion, why might’ve the driver lost his consciousness, this troubled him so much so that he waltzed towards Jackson with some speed to inspect his festering body. To some surprise the driver was dead, although it wasn’t from alcohol as the trained medical man might’ve first inspected in fact what had killed was hardly biological, what lay in the poor mans neck was a blow-dart similar to the one who killed the science party host. ‘But this cant be’ thought Monte “the malignant copy cat Thomas Avery killed that host?” the doctor pondered intently. Finally after not speaking a word since he had left the party Cohen hen ripped through the night’s silence with his diagnostic. “Someone is trying to murder me?” he cried regretting not being able to figure this out sooner. Fitting all the puzzle pieces he had stored in his head the doctor began to wonder, “why would anyone or multiple anyone want to murder me?”


To Be Continued?

© Copyright 2019 Arthur Thomas. All rights reserved.

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