Frankenstein's Guide (Book 1, the LiteraTours Cozy Mystery Series)

Chapter 7: An Academic Death - Part 2

The image is by Geetanjal Khanna from Unsplash

7/9 Free Chapters

The flashlight beams wobbled back towards the man slumped against the back wall. The water level had to be lower than usual as the don was lying on a strip of caked mud between the lake and the wall, his legs half-submerged in the water.

Ike rushed towards him and pressed her fingers into the clammy flesh of his wrists. The pulse was there, yet it was weak and erratic. She sat back on her haunches and whipped out her smartphone. "What's the local emergency number?"

"110. But phones don't work so well down here."

Unfortunately, the guide was right. The girl gave the impression she would keel over into the water any minute, her eyes huge in a blotchy face. The last thing Jessica needed was another dead weight on her hands.

"Do me a favour. Run outside and call an ambulance. I'll stay with the professor. Or no, hang on. Before you go, give me your Mackintosh, I'll try to shift his legs and cover him up."

The girl, shaken out of her trance by Ike's words, shrugged out of her anorak. With one arm still in the sleeve, she stopped. "Should we move him at all? If he's unconscious, he might suffocate?"

"I only want to turn him around and wrap him up to keep him warm. I'm not sure what his problem is, so I'd rather not move him."

As the guide splashed back to the entrance, Ike heaved the don's legs from the water onto the strip of mud and tucked the Mackintosh tightly around the man. His pinched face had taken on a ghastly pallor, blue shadows pooling over his closed eyes. She had never once asked for his name, and Hucks had not given it. The only thing she remembered was him being more reasonable than the rest of that abject lot.

"Can you hear me? You're safe. Help is coming. Please bear with me."

What a meaningless string of words, Ike scolded herself. But it was all her numb brain could throw out and perhaps the sound of a human voice would help, no matter what the message might be. Had the man heard their approach, unable to speak, capable only feeble whimpers that nobody heard? The sheer thought of it revived the spiders, who tickled her back in a rush as chilling as the mud she was kneeling on.

The snorting had become more pronounced, and she didn't like it one bit. The anorak was just window dressing, and she knew it. Once more she reached for her smartphone, clammy hands slipping across the display. First aid techniques were at her fingertips—if only she had a reception. But she didn't. The little icon kept circling and circling, leaving her alone and cut off from the world.

For a moment, Ike considered dragging the don onto the anorak and covering him in her blazer to keep him warmer. A move might harm him, but the ground truly was too chilly to lie on. She removed the garment, then hesitated. A man's life was at stake and she was supremely unqualified to help him. Compared to what she was facing here, her earlier disasters had been a fun-ride. She was ready to replace the Mackintosh when she spotted a white rectangle tucked into the side of the professor's tweed coat, now soiled and muddied.

It could have fallen from an inside pocket. But the way the card was peeping from the lapel convinced her it might have been placed deliberately, as if the professor had left a message for them.

She pinched the corner of the rectangle between thumb and index finger and carefully worked it free of the coat.

The card was blank, apart from two words.

"For Mary!"

The strange plea was written in a flowing blue script, thickening and blurred at the end of the first word as if a quill had stuttered and spilled the ink.