The Devil's Grin - a Crime Novel Featuring Anna Kronberg and Sherlock Holmes (15 page)

‘
For your information - I do know some self defence,’ I answered back with my arms akimbo.

‘
Shall I ask the maid, Dr Kronberg?’ he retorted.

‘
You could surely afford one with all that money you hide under your mattress,’ I said while brushing
the wood shavings off his shoulders.

We knocked the slushy snow off our shoes, took them off, and walked into the warm kitchen. Leaning at the counter, we drank strong coffee and ate porridge, getting our tongues scorched.

‘
Are you happy, Anna?’

This question did not come unexpected
, but I was still grateful for the hot food in my mouth. It gave me a little time to think before answering: ‘Mostly, yes.’

He wanted to add something, but only scratched his ear.

‘
What is it?’

‘
Hum… I’m getting old,’ h
e mumbled.

‘
We all are.
But what is it, Anton?’

‘
When parents are getting old they start thinking about grandchildren.’

I gazed into his face
and my heart skipped a beat. He didn’t know what had happened eight years ago and I never dared tell him. I knew it would hurt him badly and he would probably try to revenge his daughter.

‘
I’m sorry,’
I said.

‘
Do you have someone, Anna?’

I thought of Garret then and although I tried to hide that silly smile, he caught my expression.
He looked satisfied; for a moment at least.

‘
W
ho is he?’ he asked casually and after a moments consideration he added: ‘Or the woman?’ with each word spoken very carefully.

‘
Stealth attack, Anton?’ I joked
. ‘The man’s name is Garret. He is Irish and the best thief in the neighbourhood.’

The
porridge flew from my father’s mouth and sailed in little flecks down to the floor. He coughed. ‘A thief!’

‘
You know I live in the slums.
Most people there have no other choice for making a living.’

His face was red with anger
.

‘
I know he is not the right man for me.’

S
lowly he regained his normal colour. I watched him and felt the urge to throw my arms around him and not let go of him for a very long time. But of course, I did no such thing.

‘
Anton?’

‘
Hm?’

‘
You are truly the best man I have ever met. I do not know a single soul who could accept or even respect a woman like me. I mean, look at you!’ I said grabbing both his shoulders. ‘You would even accept, although with a very heavy heart, if I would love a woman!’ I saw him getting very embarrassed now. ‘We always talked eye to eye and I’m so grateful you allowed this. I’m so grateful that you treat your only child with respect and love, like an equal.’

He looked into m
y eyes now and his were a little glassy. ‘Anton, I don’t think I will ever marry. No one would tolerate a woman like me, no one who is quite right in his mind.’ I said at last.

‘
Why would you say that?’ he cried out.

‘
Look at me, Anton!’ I said gently, ‘have you ever seen a woman like me? A woman, who looks like a man, behaves like a man, can’t ever keep her mouth shut, and works as a medical doctor? I actually
did
consider marrying a woman, so that all my male colleagues would stop whispering behind my back and the nurses would stop flirting with me!”

‘
Anna! Don’t talk about yourself like that!’

‘
But it is true.
’

M
y father stood there helpless and silent, his arms hanging on his sides.

After a while he touched my cheek and whispered: ‘Will you help me build that wardrobe?’

I nodded,
grateful for the distraction.

~~~

We spent most of the daytime together. When I wasn’t working with him on the wardrobe,
or cooked for us, or cleaned up the mess we had produced in the kitchen; I sat on our cherry tree thinking about my old life here, how life had been in Boston, and now was in London. The word contrast could not quite describe it.

On my last day, my father a
sked me to kill one of his hens. We would have Katharina over for dinner and he wanted a feast for his two favourite women. The chicken was in the oven when she stepped through the door. My father’s face shone brightly then, and hers, too. She approached him and placed her hand on his shoulder. The gentleness, love, and respect between the two produced a big lump in my throat. She walked over to me then and gave me a hug.

‘
Anna, good you came. Your father missed you.’

I could only nod, trying to be very busy peeling potatoes.

~~~

The train rolled into the station to carry me away again. My father held me tight, as if this would be our last moment together. But who knew what the future may bring? I soaked up as much of his warmth as I could and tried my best not to cry, while telling him that he was the most loving father a child could ever wish for.

The train gave a
mighty jerk, belched a blob of steam, and started pulling me north while hooting Leipzig farewell. I peered out the window and craned m
y neck until the small speck that was my father had disappeared.

Before I reached Berlin, I knew what I had to do. Tetanus bacteria died upon contact with oxygen. I would use sodium sulphite to consume any potential traces of oxygen in our supposedly anoxic culture medium.

Two weeks later, I saw the first colonies appear on my Petri dishes. We used them to infect rabbits and mice. The animals showed muscle spasms one week later and I extended my stay for another two weeks, to finish my work.

~~~

I disembarked the London ferry on January 16
^th
1890, lucky that the ice wasn’t closing off the passage. The additional trunk I had carried with me contained copies of the glass cylinders and anaerobic vessels we had developed and used for the cultivation of tetanus germs. I would show them to a glass blower who could then help me supplement my laboratory equipment at Guy's. The trunk also contained my notebooks and the valuable pure cultures, growing inside sealed glass bulbs, carefully wrapped in many layers of cotton and wax paper.

I had wired Guy's
superintendent to send
someone to safely transport my precious freight from the harbour to the lab. It was late in the evening when I arrived. A hansom took me and my companion to the hospital and after making sure my cultures were safe and well, I went home happily anticipating my own bed.

Standing at the door
to my room, the latch key in my hand, I hesitated, not knowing what or how many would greet me inside. I shook my head at my own silliness and opened the door.

Twelve heaps were quietly snoring on the floor.
The room smelled clean and my bed was untouched. I steered myself there, dropped down, and rolled up like a pickled herring.

Chapter
Eleven

The following day at noon I had an appointment with Professor Rowlands, superintend of Guy's, and a reporter from the
Times
. I had dreaded this moment of making a show of myself. And I had dreaded the upcoming article, which surely will have little to do with what I would say during a predictably too long interview. Unfortunately, the one reporter turned out to be three, which seemed to proliferate during the course of the day.

It was late when I finally
left the hospital grounds. Three months of hard work with close to no sleep were taking their toll - my head was aching badly and I felt sick to the bone.

My way home seemed endless today and several times I almost lost my orientation. Eventually I made it into the small chamber at Bow Street. Lying flat on my stomach I rested my head on the cold floor and fought the urge to puke. After a while
I felt a little better and got up to replace my trousers with a dress to head home.

As I slowly walked down Bow Street again, trying to avoid puddles of
half melted snow and mud, I spotted a group of teenagers. They were new to me. The streets were almost empty now and not a familiar face was in sight. The boys watched me approaching and I crossed the street to put some distance between us. My hair was standing on end when I noticed them following me.

At the
corner of Endell and Wilson I started panicking. I could see no one on the street except my pursuers. And that was the moment they chose to start running. Memories of the rape pushed themselves into my pelvis and I almost fainted. That annoyed and shocked me enough to wake me from the victim’s stupor. I started running as fast as I could, trying to picture a forest around me, to make me feel safer or more self-assured. The icy rain drove needles into my face and my feet slammed through ankle-deep puddles.

I noticed the distance growing smaller and the despair was cutting my breath short. After three blocks the boys had caught up and threw me onto the dirt road. For a second I thought how ironic it would be to drown in a puddle somewhere in London after having crossed the vast ocean twice.

Something hit me on the back of my head and the world started squealing silently. The boy’s shouts were dull throbs and the night turned from a dark grey into screaming red and orange. I could see only flashes of the things happening around me. Someone punched my face and abdomen, but the pain came with delay and felt oddly harmless. I felt the tugging on my clothes and shoes but it didn’t matter much to me.

Then I heard the muffled screaming of a tortured steam engine
and saw a familiar face - a bear of a man with flaming orange hair sent the boys flying. Curiously, I got the feeling that the street and I were melting together into a glutinous and sore mass with the biting cold holding us together like a badly stitched seam. Then I flew, too. It took me a while to realise someone had picked me up and carried me away. It was Garret.

~~~

I saw his lips moving, his face was flushed and anxious. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. My vision was limited and I had the feeling of looking through a narrow tunnel. I meant to
speak, but couldn’t hear myself making a sound.

Garret brought me to a place which
was unfamiliar to me. He laid me down and my rib cage hurt as he did so. Gradually, my senses returned. I noticed the cold wet cloth wiping my face. The back of my head was throbbing badly. I managed to get my right hand up there and pain shot through my chest. I touched the raw mess just above my neck, my fingers pushed and probed but no bones seemed to shift - a fracture of the skull wasn’t likely. The knowledge relieved me greatly until I noticed that my hand was covered in blood.

‘
Garret?’ I mumbled
, ‘my head? Just look, no touching.’

H
e turned me gently onto my side. I heard him breathing and it took a long minute before he turned me back again. His face was a mask.