The Devil's Grin - a Crime Novel Featuring Anna Kronberg and Sherlock Holmes Read Free

the most.’
    ‘ Considering which duration of exposure?’ I asked.
    ‘ Twenty-four to thirty-six hours.’
    ‘ Interesting,’ I was surprised at his apparent medical background, as he correctly assessed the time the man had spent in the water. He had also calculated the maximum distance the corpse could have travelled downstream.
    I cast a sideways glance at Mr Holmes and got the impression that this man vibrated with intellectual energy wanting to be utilized.
    ‘ You are an odd version of a private detective? One the police call in? I never heard of their doing so before,’ I wondered aloud.
    ‘ I prefer the term ‘consulting detective’.’
    ‘ Ah… ’ I replied absentmindedly as my attention was pulled back to the body. He was extremely emaciated; the skin with the typical blue tinge looked paper thin, most definitely cholera in the final stage. I was about to examine his clothes for any signs of violence when Mr Holmes barked ‘stop!’
    Before I could protest, he pushed me aside, pulled a magnifying glass from his waist coat pocket, and hovered over the corpse. The fact that his nose almost touched the large buttons of the man's coat was rather unsettling.
    ‘ What is it?’
    ‘ He has been dressed by someone else,’ he noted.
    ‘ Show me!’
    Looking a little puzzled, he handed me his magnifying glass and I took it after pulling my gloves off. The thick rubber hindered my work and made me feel like a butcher. I could disinfect my hands later.
    Mr Holmes started to talk fast. ‘The man was obviously right handed - that hand having more calluses on the palms. Yet you will observe greasy thumbprints on the left-hand side of his coat buttons.’
    I spotted the prints and put my nose as close as possible and sniffed - corpse smell, Thames water, and possibly the faintest hint of petroleum.
    ‘ I smell petroleum; maybe from an oil lamp,’ I remarked quietly.
    Upon examining his hands, I found superficial scratches, swelling, and bruises on the knuckles of the right hand. Probably from a fist fight only a day or two before his death - odd, given his weakness. His hands seemed to have been strong and rough once, but he had not been doing hard work with them for a while now as the calluses had started to peel off. His fingernails had multiple discolorations, showing he had been undernourished and sick for weeks before contracting cholera. He must have been very poor during his last few months, and I wondered where he had come from. His clothes looked worn and too big now, and a lot of debris from the river had collected in them. I examined his sleeves, turned his hands around and found a pale red banding pattern around his wrists.
    ‘ Restraint marks,’ said Mr Holmes. Then he added: ‘The man used to be a farm worker but lost his occupation three to four months ago.’
    ‘ Could be correct,’ I answer. Mr Holmes had obviously based his judgment on the man’s clothes, boots, and hands.
    ‘ But the man could have had any other physically demanding occupation, Mr Holmes. He could as well have been a coal mine worker. The clothes are not necessarily his.’
    Mr Holmes sat erect and pulled one eyebrow up. ‘I think we can safely assume that he had owned these boots for at least ten years,’ said he while extracting a foot and holding the shoe next to it. The sole, worn down to a thin layer of rubber containing a major hole where the man’s heel used to be, showed a perfect imprint of the shape of the man’s foot and toes.
    ‘ You examined him before I arrived?’
    ‘ Superficially only; I found it more pressing to investigate how he had entered the trench.’
    I nod ded, only slightly relieved. ‘Mr Holmes, you have put your hands to your face at least twice, even scratched your chin very close to your lips. This is rather reckless considering that you have touched a cholera victim.’
    He looked at me surprised and I passed him a handkerchief soaked in creosote. He wiped himself off with care.