The Devil's Grin - a Crime Novel Featuring Anna Kronberg and Sherlock Holmes (5 page)

I watch
ed my feet climb the stairs while thoughts swirled around in my head like a swarm of mosquitoes. To me, Holmes was a magnet with North and South Pole unified. He knew my secret and could, with a single statement, destroy my life. I did not know whether avoiding him or observing him would be the safer tactic.

Upon reaching the landing I finally lifted my gaze and noticed a small crater in the wall. I probed with my finger, which disappeared entirely. Amazed to have found a bullet hole, I extracted my finger again, brushed the plaster off, and knocked at Holmes’s door.

Gibson open
ed, I stepped in, and the world changed from polished and gleaming to utter chaos. The ceiling was decorated with stains exhibiting a spray pattern indicative of an explosion. Some spots looked as if acid had eaten into the plaster. I had noticed splotches on Holmes’s hands yesterday but wasn’t able to identify them. Now I knew - the man was a hobby scientist.

Enormous stacks of paper
hid the desk, a chair, and most of the mantle piece, where a knife stuck in the nicely carved wood holding a bunch of papers. On top of the marred thing I noticed the photograph of a beautiful woman.

I apologise
d for being late. Gibson was pacing the sitting room, looking important. Holmes himself was smoking a pipe in an armchair by the fireplace, looking bored. His violin lay on the coffee table as if he had recently played it.

A small and very timid chamber maid with hair the colour of dirty egg yolk served us tea and biscuits. She did not glance at anyone in the room. Slinking here and there, she seemed to go unnoticed by Gibson, who now lowered himself into the other armchair to receive his refreshments.

Holmes was giving Gibson the results of the dissection, but did not elaborate on the twigs and beetles, nor on any other thoughts he entertained on the case.

‘
Were you able to identify the man, Inspector?’ I enquired.

He
shook his head, showing me his annoyance. ‘No, I already told Mr Holmes I’m afraid it will be entirely impossible. He didn’t have any papers on him and no one who fits his description had been reported missing. I will not waste my time investigating this case. I hope you agree, Mr Holmes.’

Holmes nodded
without looking up and Gibson heaved himself off the chair with a satisfied smile.

‘
Dr Kronberg, if I have any other questions I will contact you,’ said Gibson and took his leave. I knew he wouldn't and that was just as well.

As the Inspector trampled
down the stairs, I stood with my back to the closed door and looked at Holmes. ‘Interesting,’ I noted and he opened his eyes, apparently surprised to see me.

‘
Is there anything else, Dr Kronberg?’ His voice was monotonous.

‘
Gibson is wrong and you know it.’

Holmes raise
d one eyebrow and I waved my hand at him, saying: ‘Well, when is he
not
?’

‘
Indeed,’ murmured
Holmes with an expression of impatience.

‘
My apologies for wasting your time Mr Holmes,’ I produced a warm smile. ‘I only have two questions. Did I miss anything of importance due to my late arrival?’ He shook his head in reply. ‘The second question is: could you find anything of interest in the bowl you took home yesterday?’

‘
It was full with insects, leaves, and dirt. Highly interesting,’ he yawned.

His gaze followed
mine as I looked at the violin and said: ‘She is on top of the bread crumbs - you played her before Gibson came in. Are you on a case at present?’

He narrowed
his eyes and I saw him getting ready for combat.

‘
What amused you about the maid?’ he asked calmly.

I smile
d, he wanted a diversion. So be it. ‘I was wondering why she was so extremely shy. Whether it could be her inexperience or a problem she has with you. The fact that I wondered at all, was, well… amusing.’

‘
Amusing?’
he asked.

‘
Mr Holmes, you are the most observant man I ever came across, yet you want me to believe that you don't know the impression you leave on others?’

‘
I have a theory, but I am involved and thus not entirely independent in my judgement.’

‘
You scare people,’ I state
d simply. It was short and hit the nail on the head. He could digest it as he pleased. But Holmes’s response surprised me - he chuckled lightly.

Accidentally, I cast a look at the woman on the mantle piece. His quick eyes followed mine and he said: ‘Another theory I would like to hear!’

Seeing
my startled expression he produced a flood of explanations: ‘I noticed you glancing around as you entered. You looked rather taken aback. What a contrast when coming in from that neat staircase. My piles of papers and the spots on the walls and ceiling amused you. I could almost see the pictures of small explosive experiments forming in your head. Very refreshing, indeed! Then you discovered the photograph,’ he pointed to the woman’s picture, ‘and your eyes lingered there for two seconds. You must have formed an opinion.’

He put his hands back into his lap and sat there relaxed while monitoring his surroundings without the slightest movement of his head. The man had very long antennas indeed!

‘
I am curious Mr Holmes - if you don’t want to involve me in this case, why not simply ask me to leave? Another thing I was just wondering was whether you ever met someone who learned how to avoid your analytical skills. Someone who could observe you well enough and then avoid being analysed by you, avoid being obvious, so to speak.’

‘
You are evading my question.’ He still had that calm voice and I started wondering what could possible rattle his composure.

‘
What question again? I must have forgotten it,’ I mumbled and then, seeing him pointing his chin at the photograph, I said softly: ‘Your weak spot.’

Upon that he pulled
the corners of his mouth down and looked deeply disappointed.

‘
You are reading Dr Watson; how ignorant of me!’ he announced, slapping his forehead.

That was an odd answer. In my mind I scanned through the last publications I had read, but couldn’t remember any by Watson and colleagues. Holmes noticed my confusion.

‘
Are you reading the papers occasionally?’ he enquired, a little perplexed.

‘
Er... No, not really. What does that have to do with the matter at hand?’

‘
If you would have read my friend’s little stories, you would know who Irene Adler is,’ he said, indicating the picture.

‘
Your friend writes stories about you in newspapers?’

‘
Unfortunately, yes. He’s publishing in
The Strand
, but that’s of no import-’

‘
Is it Dr Watson you live with?’ I interrupted, suddenly curious. I had noticed a worn looking coat hanging next to the door. It was made to fit a stocky man of approximately my height. Also, the two armchairs appeared as if both were regularly used. I could not quite imagine Holmes receiving visitors every day and openly inviting them to wear down his furniture. Probably, his distressed customers preferred to pace the room and ruin the carpet instead.

After a moment of a measuring stare he grumbled: ‘He lives with his new wife now. You are evading my question again.’

I start
ed to enjoy my own
sauciness
. Besides, I had a plan now.

‘
You are rather impatient, Mr Holmes. May I?’ I asked, taking the picture in my hand. He didn’t look too happy but let me proceed and I started walking him through his sitting room.

‘
There are a few pictures on the walls, which are almost completely hidden behind that chaos of yours. I should assume they hung there before you moved in and are of no importance to you?’

He raise
d one eyebrow and I continued: ‘That’s in sharp contrast to her though. She is the only picture on the mantle piece, possibly because you don’t know how to drive a nail into the wall?’

A frown on Holmes’s face indicated he did know how to use a hammer. Good for him. ‘There is all that stuff of yours on the mantle piece, too. If she would be insignificant she would be hidden at least partially. But there she is, in full view. However, she is not someone you are fond of because you never take her off her place. Although I’m not entirely sure you would ever do such a thing even if you would be fond of her.’

Holmes’s appeared
very alert now and I, not knowing whether he could sense my plan, put a little more distance between us as I continued my explanation. ‘The frame and the glass are almost completely free of fingerprints. I guess she had been touched once to be put there. The maid cleans your rooms daily. But she’s not very thorough mostly because she doesn’t dare touch your personal belongings.’

R
eaching one of the two tall windows next to the fireplace, I opened it and pulled the curtain aside while coughing and taking a deep breath of fresh air. The room was filled with pipe smoke. Inwardly, I was vibrating with excitement and foreboding – I was about to step on a rather fragile tight rope.

‘
There is only one possible explanation, Mr Holmes. You dislike the woman, yet you keep her photograph. That can only mean you adore her in an odd way. Considering what I had learned about you yesterday, I conclude that she outwitted you. You are convinced you are the smartest man alive and being outwitted by a woman is more than unacceptable for you. This is your greatest preconception and your weakest spot. You should get rid of it.’

With these last words my hand shot out the window, Holmes inhaled sharply and bent his long body towards me, reaching for Irene.

‘
For Christ’s sake!’ he exhaled
, as I placed her gently on the outside windowsill. ‘Would you be so kind to tell me what you think of the Hampton man’s death, Mr Holmes?’ I asked.

‘
There isn’t much to think,’ he barked. ‘All that’s needed is but a s
imple calculation: the maximum distance the man could have floated was thirty miles. Before he entered the Thames, he was close to death. He was close to death, can only have contracted cholera at a densely populated place with a lack of hygiene, and he could not possibly have walked very far. It follows that he must have been close to a village or city. There is only one place that fits these facts like a glove fits the hand!’

‘
And which place would that be?’

He ignored
me, took up the photograph and placed it back onto the mantelpiece.

‘
I wonder why you are so observant,’ he muttered after a moment. I opened my mouth to reply, but he held up his hand. ‘Of course! You are behind the veil; the one no one sees but who can perceive everything. You must be observant to protect your life in disguise.’

H
is back still towards me, he asked: ‘Would you accompany me to Chertsey Meads?’

‘
Excuse me?’

‘
Do I have to repeat the question
?’ he turned around.

‘
Is that a pub?’ I joke
d.

‘
It is a wetland.’

I
took my time to find the right words. ‘I must confess I feel honoured by your invitation, although I’m not so sure why I would be. However, I also have the feeling that the main reason for your invitation is that you can study me a little longer. That irks me because I am not a curiosity. And your constant probing of my brain is highly annoying.’ I saw him pulling his eyebrows together and asked: ‘Why should I come with you, Mr Holmes?’