‘The Melted Man’ is my version of the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle story, ‘The Crooked Man’, updated to take account of the Iraq war. Its a bit of a new departure for me, effectively adapting a story, and its more of a mystery than a romance, which is what I am used to writing.
And yes, I am copping out of writing today’s Journal Friday post, partly because I have a cold, and partly because I think presenting new writing is just as important, if not more so. I’ve got half a dozen story ideas rattling around my brain at the moment, plus a new novel idea forming, which is a bit scary. since I’ve already got two in process at the moment. I am being drawn towards writing something about grief, but I probably need to get something finished and under my belt first. A bird in the hand and all that. I’ll let you know how I am getting on.
In the meantime, here is a little excerpt from ‘The Melted Man’ to tempt your appetite:
“‘Well, difficult one, this one,’ Professor James-not-Bunsen-Honeydew said, grinding his palms together awkwardly. ‘I’d definitely say he died because his heart stopped. Beyond that, it gets a little problematic.’
‘Everybody dies because their heart stops,’ Sherlock snapped. ‘Can’t you be more specific?’ He shot John his ‘what am I doing out here in this godforsaken rustic backwater – you’d better be bloody grateful is all I can say’ glare.
‘First off, there are no marks on the body, no sign of disease, puncture wounds or congenital heart defects,’ James went on. ‘I’ve run the standard tox screens, which have all come back negative. I’ve sent off a second panel, more specific to poison indicators, but to be frank, I don’t expect any positive hits on those either. Colonel Cornforth was as fit as a fiddle. Possibly fitter. And then, well, there’s this-‘
He pulled back the sheet, revealing the late Colonel Cornforth’s head and shoulders.
John had to look away. He had seen far too many corpses that looked like that. Frankly, even one was too many.
Jeffries gasped, ‘Jesus!’ under his breath.”