The Devil's Grin - a Crime Novel Featuring Anna Kronberg and Sherlock Holmes (14 page)

As he tried to explain to Watson how very exciting and significant his
haemoglobin test was, I had to laugh out loud. He had been as excited as a child about this newly developed method, which would help solve crimes in the future. And he was apparently the only one who understood it. The situation felt so familiar to me.

After thinking it over for a moment I noticed that it wasn’t funny at all.

Some of Watson’s descriptions gave me a weak glimpse of Holmes as I knew him. Some where spot on and others seemed to speak of a stranger. But each friend will provide a different angle at our character, and we would be extraordinary lucky to find one who is able to see the whole picture and still respect all of it.

I have to confess Watson’s narrative annoyed me a little. First of all, he described obvious symptoms of poisoning but had not drawn the conclusion. Then, his attention seemed to be focused on the superficial only. He thought it noteworthy how people were dressed, what colour their eyes had, or the state of the wallpaper at the crime’s scene. He saw and described, but never made the connections. I had to pull myself together to not slap the journal against my forehead.

I started wondering how two so very different men could be friends. After a while, I thought I understood. Holmes was, in a way, the least judgemental person I ever met. He could easily accept Watson’s blindness. In that, Watson did not differ from the other blind ninety-nine per cent of the human population. But one thing made him very special indeed: he did not resent Holmes’s sharpness - the main reason for the ninety-nine per cent to avoid Holmes, because he made them feel small. I wondered whether Watson sometimes did feel small next to Holmes and had accepted it as the little price to pay for their friendship. Somewhere inside my strange heart, I felt respect growing for the stocky surgeon.

~~~

A train took me from Hamburg to Berlin
. The city came into view and I started vibrating. Here, I had defended my thesis. This had been an exception - although I had studied medicine at the Leipzig University, I had spent several months at the Charité hospital and had met Robert Koch there. He had been part of my thesis committee. To honour him, my PhD defence had been relocated to Berlin.

And
I had lost my so called innocence here. But it wouldn’t help to pull the old horrors out the pirate’s chest again.

A student of Dr
von Behring picked me up from the train station and showed me my quarters. There was a small restaurant close by where I took a late dinner. It was so odd to hear everyone speak German. It did not feel like my language anymore, sounding so rough.

After I had eaten, I made my way back to my temporary room and quickly fell asleep, exhausted from the long journey.

The next morning
I took the tram to the Charité. Although I was familiar with the place and still knew some of the staff there, it made me feel very small.

Dr
Koch’s laboratory was spacious and the best equipped I have ever seen. I got a friendly reception from both, Dr von Behring - diphtheria specialist, and Dr Kitasato – expert in tetanus. A lab space was assigned to me, equipment for my personal use, and an assistant to both Dr Kitasato and myself. The two of us aimed to isolate tetanus germs as a first step in the production of a vaccine.

We used solid media to isolate the
germs, a novelty invented by Dr Koch. I was surprised how much easier the cultivation of pure bacterial cultures was compared to the traditional liquid media. While I focused on the isolation of the germ itself, Dr Kitasato would spend his energies on the characterisation of the tetanus toxin, which was suspected to cause the muscle spasms. With these complementary approaches, we hoped to shorten the laborious and time-consuming path of vaccine development.

For two months we worked almost around the clock. Twice I woke up lying face down on my lab bench but more often I found myself close to falling off my stool. During that time of extensive work, any bodily needs where a bother. Eating and sleeping felt like a waste of time.
Most nights I forgot to change into my female self.

Despite all efforts, I had no success in cultivating tetanus bacteria. Before the dawn of my third month in Berlin, I decided to leave everything behind and pay a visit to my father.

~~~

In the train to Leipzig I saw my childhood rushing past, intermingled with the familiar countryside.
It made my heart ache in a good way.

M
y father was standing at the station, holding on to one of his coat buttons, and waiting for his only child.

I pushed through the crowd, anxiously wondering whether he still loved me. What a silly thought that was, I noticed, as I flung my arms around him, pressing my face on his warm chest, inhaling the smell of fresh wood shavings. He held me tight as if he hadn’t seen me for years. I pushed a quiet sob into his coat as I realised we had indeed not seen each other for a long time.

He
released me then and gazed into my face, slightly abashed. We rarely hugged. Besides, his only daughter looked like a man.

We
left the station, climbed into the dog cart, and he flicked the whip across the backs of his two yellow Haflinger ponies. He asked me about my work in Berlin and about the journey. We both felt a little awkward and it was as if we had to get to know each other again.

In the forest
at Naunhof I asked him to stop, as I wanted to get rid of my male attire.

‘
You don't need to do that for me, Anna,’ he said with a smirk. I only frowned at him and darted off into the woods.

Once back on the cart I pointed to the stocky horses. ‘
Don't you think the two old ladies should retire?’

He only grunted in response and I felt that something was off.

I
put my hand on his knee. ‘Anton? Can I ask you something and you promise me not to be mad?’ Another grunt, he probably guessed what was coming.

‘
You did get the money I sent you every month?’

He nodded, but did not look at me.

‘
Are you using it?’ I asked, ‘at all?’

He shook his head, fina
lly turning his face towards me, wearing an apologetic frown.

‘
Why?’ I said, unbelieving, ‘I mean, sorry, it’s your own business, you can do with it what you want of course, but please tell me if I offended you by sending you money. Er… did I offend you?’ I stammered.

He smiled and shook his head. ‘
Anna, you behave like the elephant in the china store, who finally learned that she has pretty big hindquarters.’

‘
Excuse me?’

‘
Never mind.
I put the money aside. And before you ask why, I did it because I know that one day it will all come out, you will lose your occupation, and may have to hide somewhere. So I saved the money you sent. You can have it back when you need it.’

For a long moment I sat there speechless
.

‘
You always tell me I got the brains from mother, but I don't think that’s true. You are quite a brainy carpenter, Anton.’ The awe in my voice made him blush and we both fell silent again.

We crossed the river Mulde at the Pöppelmann B
ridge. I was about to see my home again and my breathing got a little faster. Then I thought of my father and the money again. ‘Anton, I have to tell you something.’

He gazed at me with one bushy eyebrow
pulled up. Every time he did that, he looked like a ten years younger and very smug version of himself.

‘
I sent you only half my income, the other half, minus the little I need for a living, goes onto a bank account. I, too, know that I may need a safe hiding place and some money to get me trough several months.’ Now his other eyebrow went up, too. ‘Last year I bought a small cottage in the countryside. It’s in an awful state, but when I need it, I’ll fix it. I have a safe place, Anton. Would you
please
use the money?’

Smiling
meekly, he nodded.

‘
Aw! Come on, old carpenter!’ I poked his ribs with my elbow. ‘Allow the ladies their much deserved retirement and don’t turn them into salami before you get yourself new ones!’

He wrapped his one arm around me as t
he two horses pulled us up the hill. We turned a corner and I could see it - the small stone house with the mossy straw roof, which was now partially covered with snow. A gar
den surrounding it, a hen house, a wood shed, and the carpenter's tool shop. I spotted my large cherry tree that had carried me for years and felt a pang in my heart. The pl
ace I had called home for the best part of my life. It made me feel calm and nervous at the same time. How odd!

I cooked us dinner and we drank the brandy I had brought from Londo
n. He sat in his arm chair and I on the floor in front of him, both of us close to the fireplace with the heat toasting our feet. And very soon thereafter I
fell asleep.

~~~

I woke up with the winter sun shining through the window
of my old bedroom, which was more a cupboard than anything else. Surprised, I noticed that my father had kept it in exactly the same state I left it in.

I got up, washed, dressed
, and walked into the small sitting room. The familiar smell and the furniture I had climbed as I was little greeted me like long forgotten friends.
Quietly I said hello to the tattered armchair, hoping no one would hear me talking to it or see me stroking its bleached backrest.

I
spotted our two wooden chairs that had been covered in kinks as long as I could remember, and the small table were we used to sit and eat. Then I noticed the doily. I walked over and inspected it. Someone had done a good job on bobbin lace. The room was tidier than I remembered it in its best days. I had to grin - female influence.

The scraping noise coming from the workshop lured me outside and I found my father cutting fine structures into a wardrobe door. Leaning against the shed, I watched him. His skill had always fascinated me. He had the rare ability to look at a
n apparatus, a tool, or a building, and knew instantly how it worked and how it had been constructed. He could fix machines he had never set eyes upon before. He opened them carefully, poked and wiggled at their intestines with his small screw driver and then, with utmost concentration, he scrunched up his face and figured out everything in minutes. He could do that with people too. After a moment of scrutinising a stranger he knew what character was hidden inside. Or he looked at me and knew what I felt. It was very annoying.

He noted my presence and smiled.

‘
Who is the woman? Do I know her?’ I had to attack before he did.

‘
Katharina,’ h
e said without looking up from his work.

‘
Oh, really? I liked her.
’ She had lived in our street since I was little and had been like an aunt to me. I started wondering when they had fallen in love with each other.

‘
I’m happy for you,
’ I said quietly and my father’s cheeks flushed. He answered with a grunt.

‘
Breakfast?’ I offered, shivering and eager to get back inside.

He
stroked his stomach once and said: ‘I had mine two hours ago, but there’s space left.’ He tried his evil grin and mocked me. ‘Off you go in the kitchen, woman!’