The Devil's Grin - A Crime Novel featuring Anna Kronberg and Sherlock Holmes (Kronberg Crimes)

by Annelie Wendeberg

  His eyes lit up and he nodded again, this time vigorously.

  The following day we carried Sally into my flat. A swarm of children helped to hold up the makeshift bunk on which she lay. I had set up a sleeping corner with clean blankets, several jugs of fresh water, and a bed pan. There was nothing else we could do but to give her a dry, clean, and warm place. I left Barry with some money for wood, coal, and food and instructed him where to get clean water. He would sleep here with his mother until she either felt healthy enough or until my return at the end of December.

  And I desperately hoped my rooms would not be invaded by all the other thirty inhabitants of Barry’s house.

  Chapter Ten

  I started my journey to the continent on September 30th. On the ship to Hamburg I read Watson’s ‘A study in Scarlet’. Half of London seemed to know Sherlock Holmes and I had the feeling this educational gap needed to be filled.

  My reactions while reading the story drew the occasional glances from my fellow passengers. As I learned about Holmes flogging corpses in the morgue, I volunteered a very audible ‘No way!’

  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.

  My 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, finally 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 Bridge. 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 the 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 garden 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 place 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 London. 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 an 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,’ he 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!’

  ‘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,’ he 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.

  ‘Who 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.’

  Slowly 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 my 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.’

  My 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 asked 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 my 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 16th1890, 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.