The Devil's Grin - a Crime Novel Featuring Anna Kronberg and Sherlock Holmes (26 page)

H
is eyes turned dark again, and he gave me a single nod and then turned to observe the countryside. I could see that he was thinking hard. Suddenly, with quite a lot of energy that only a good plan can bring, he faced me again and stated merrily:
‘I think it is time for a little violence.’

‘
What?’

‘
It is not
What
it is
Excuse me
!’ he cried while rising from his seat. I could not place the playful look he had in his eyes.

‘
Your escape has to appear authentic,’ he explained before grabbing both my shoulders, lifting me up, and slamming me against the cab’s window. I cried out in surprise.

‘
My apologies,’ h
e whispered as he lunged to the door and bolted it. Then he threw himself against it and onto the floor, bellowing like a plumber on too much gin. Finally my brain clicked and I dropped down next to him, grinning and cursing. We rolled around, kicking and hitting the walls and seats, like two kids playing war. The hansom finally gave a lurch as the horses reared and changed their slow gait into a gallop.

‘
Wha’ the ‘
ell’s goin’ on?’ the cabby shouted while trying to get the horse back under his control. Holmes, who had tried to stand up, lost balance and fell onto his back with one arm pinned down awkwardly underneath him. I pounced and clamped him down with my knees on either side of his ribcage.

‘
To hell with the police!’ I screamed at the top of my lungs while maintaining a firm grip on his wrist that stuck out from underneath his back. His eyes flared up in surprise.

‘
Give up Mr Holmes!’ I bellowed.

‘
Never!’
he barked and grabbed a fistful of my waistcoat. One button popped.

‘
For your own sake!’ I screamed, slamming my other hand next to his face. I saw that he was quite amused. He probably thought I did indeed try to overpower him. Well, maybe I did.

‘
You villain shall
not escape justice!’ he roared and shook me by the collar.

‘
I like you that way,’
I said quietly and bent down.

He went limp, his fist on my chest showing no resistance. His pupils widened
in shock and I held his gaze as my lips touched the corner of his mouth, asking for permission. He gave me a feeble shove as his eyes lost focus, then tilted his head a little, and his warm breath flooded my face. Like the wings of a bird, his eyelids folded together and only then did I kiss him. His lips felt like silk.

And all of a sudden
, my silly heart left my chest to live in his from this day forward. Did he notice the additional weight? I wondered.

Two
metallic clicks pulled my mouth away from his, and I spotted the guard’s revolver in his hand. Aghast, I gazed into Sherlock’s face. His eyes were on fire, but I didn’t retreat. I bent down again and touched his lips a last time as he raised his left hand and fired four shots through the cab’s roof.

The horse
s bolted, the cabby shouted, and we were joggled about like chocolate candy in a box. After a few moments, the vehicle came to a halt and the driver jumped off and ran away screaming for help.

Sherlock unfolded his protective embrace, pushed me up onto the seat, and rose to his feet in one fluid move.

‘
Out,’ h
e ordered, holding the door open.

‘
I drive,’
I noted, climbed onto the driver’s seat and cracked the whip as he slammed the door shut.

I couldn’t help but smile, although the aftertaste of our kiss was bitter. How formidable the spectrum of emotions that can unfold in one single moment! Utter bliss to tearful downpour upon the gain and loss of someone precious.

I rubbed my eyes and gave the two horses a good flick each. I needed wind in my face.

After we had gone far out of the cabby’s eye-shot, Sherlock climbed up and sat down next to me wearing a gruff expression.

‘
Where did you learn to drive a horse carriage?’ he demanded.

‘
We had two horses at home. Besides, it’s not that complicated, really,’ I answered with a thin voice, not at all eager to engage in distractive small talk.

‘
That was far from appropriate for a woman of your social standing,’ he noted dryly.

‘
Beg your pardon? You are the last person I would expect to care for social standards. Besides, I never pretended to be a woman of the higher classes and you seem to ignore the fact that as a woman I have no social standing whatsoever. By kissing you, all I may have rattled is your composure. But you already seem to get yourself back together without much effort. In one day you are your old self,
Mr Holmes
!’

‘
Needless to say,’ h
e muttered to himself.

‘
If you’d wanted an ordinary woman, you’d be married since years.’

It was a useless conversation and we both knew it. For
about twenty minutes we sat silently until I had steered the cab into Tottenham Court Road. I stopped and climbed down. The moment my feet touched the cobblestone street, he flicked the whip across the horses’ hindquarters and drove away without a glance back.

I stood on the pavement,
wondering how the deuce I could have let him take my heart away. Why could this deceitfully small organ not be held captive? Not even my own?

~~~

Then, neither of us
knew that we had just punched a considerable hole into Professor Moriarty’s criminal spider web.

End of Book One

Preview
of Book Two

The Fall
-Chapter One

A
cold something pushed my head a little deeper into the hard straw mattress, the stalks’ crackling sounded like small explosions. The click-click of the cock told me the object was a revolver. Due to the angle at which the gun was held and the entry point, I could expect the bullet to go straight through my brain into the mattress, producing a spray of blood and nerve tissue. If the revolver would be tipped just a little, the bullet would be circling the inside of my skull, leaving a track in the bones, ripping my brain into pieces until the projectile would slow to a stop, and only a thin red sliver would creep from the bullet’s entry wound. But no such thing happened during these first two seconds of unpleasant awakening.

‘
Dr Kronberg,’ a
cold voice echoed in my dark bedroom. ‘Get up slowly, if you please.’

Reviews are the indie author’s bread and butter!
Please leave a customer’s review and send me an email notice to receive a 50% discount on the second book in the Kronberg Crimes series.

Connect with me online:

www.kronbergcrimes.com

[email protected]

Acknowledgements

I am so grateful for my husband’s
deep love and his belief in my writing (besides other obsessions). He and our friend Martha Schattenhofer had to endure the awful first drafts and luckily slapped them over my head repeatedly. I survived, as you may have noticed.

Many thanks go to Ronald Kötteritzsch, who
loved to read even the early versions of The Devil’s Grin.

I am deeply indeb
ted to my faithful reviewers at
www.thenextbigwriter.com
. Especially T.M. Hobbs, who let me torture her all the way through and Phyl Manning who took me aside and told me to stop babbling (SHOW us, don’t tell us, baby!).

J.E.
Nissley and Nancy DeMarco, two of the most talented writers I have ever had the pleasure to come across and the honour to review their work and be reviewed by them. The humbling number of authors at TNBW giving me advice and helping me to become a better writer (uh, I did say writer now, did I?) shall be given names here: Q.X.T. Rhazmeulen, Bonnie Milani, dagnee, David Reynolds,
Janet Taylor-Perry, CE Jones, Debbie Lampi, and John DeBoehr.

Another brilliant
author, who was an invaluable help and whose advice and mere interest in my writing still makes me giddy is Paul Negri.

I’m quite relieved
that I and my novel survived the scrutinising read of Alistair Duncan from the Sherlock Holmes Society London.

The last was the first: Ruben Zorilla, who accidentally received a full length draft and fell in love with the story. Thank you Ruben, for your praise and support. You were my first ever reader!

To all of you, I do the full prostration (picture me touching my knees with my nose).