Homer is Not Dead
A HAM MARKS MEDICAL MURDER MYSTERY
Dr. Ham Marks just wanted to attend a university debate about whether Homer the poet ever existed. Instead, he found a body in the men's room, an ancient manuscript worth a million dollars, and a Greek motorcycle gang recreating the Odyssey to get it back - Cyclops, whirlpool, and all.
Because glioblastoma (ternimal brain cancer) claimed Dad’s life before he could finish his third medical murder mystery, we're sharing it exactly as he left it.
Read an excerpt below or download the full, unfinished manuscript.
The murderer waited in the entrance hall of the Philomathean Society building, feigning interest in the lithographs hung on the wall, depicting famous old buildings in Philadelphia. At the first sign of the doors of the lecture hall opening upstairs, the murderer, dressed all in black, moved quickly down the stairs.
The murderer reached into his jacket pocket and quickly withdrew a six inch knife from its scabbard. The knife was unusual. In the first place it was made of bronze. It had a jeweled handle and a crosspiece of bronze between the blade and the handle, to prevent the user’s hand from accidentally getting cut by slipping onto the blade in the blood and gore of ancient battle.
The attacker focused on the target’s British tweed jacket covering his back. He picked the spot just to the left of the midline in the middle of the rib cage where the blade would enter with a killing affect. Before the target could sense the assailant’s presence and turn around, the assassin struck with a gloved hand. The murderer thrust the knife into the target’s back. At first there was slight resistance. “Must have hit a rib,” the murderer thought, but then the blade sunk well into the targets thorax. The murderer withdrew the blade, wiping it free of blood on the cloth of the target’s jacket. The target fell forward onto his abdomen, saying only “oh!” Then all was silent.
The murderer turned and placing the blade back in its scabbard, walked quickly back to the darkened space under the stairs. The killer reached out onto the chair for the plastic covered missive. But it wasn’t there! No time to look for it in the dark and with the knowledge that ungloved hands would leave DNA or fingerprints, the murderer turned and quickly walked up the stairs. Out of the corner of the killer’s eye, a large man was seen coming down the stairs from the lecture hall. The man could not see the attacker in the dark stairway, so the attacker, with adrenaline pumping, rushed out the front door of the Philomathean building, turned left, and walked quickly down Walnut Street, disappearing into the crowd walking past on the sidewalk.
If you’re moved after reading Dad’s own “fragment” all about a mystery surrounding Homer’s, please support critical research into this terminal brain cancer by donating to the Glioblastoma Foundation in his name.
The mission of the Glioblastoma Foundation is to transform the standard of care for glioblastoma. We support the development of new drugs and other effective therapies for glioblastoma. Because each glioblastoma is different, it is likely that no one drug will work for everyone, and any therapies for glioblastoma will need to be targeted. Glioblastoma Foundation supports the development of targeted therapies for glioblastoma.
Support GBM research today
Bill was passionate about helping people, his family, singing, gardening, and football — the Philadelphia Eagles, specifically. He studied at Princeton, earned his MD at the University of Pennsylvania, and trained further at Harvard, before practicing as an orthopedic surgeon in Philadelphia for the rest of his life.
He'd wanted to be a doctor since he got a toy doctor's kit as a kid. Six decades of patients and medical students knew him for his cheerful demeanor, his keen intellect, his good humor, and his hands. He authored several texts and articles along the way.
Off the clock, he traveled with his wife Michele, FaceTimed his daughter Eve every single day, kept his dog Tucker permanently underfoot, and wrote a series of medical mystery novels starring a loveably quirky doctor who looked a lot like him on paper.
About William H. Simon, MD