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

you are a German who has learned English in the Boston area. Harvard Medical School?’
    I nod ded; my dialect and mix of American and British English were rather obvious.
    ‘ At first I thought you lived in East End, but I was wrong. You live in or very near St Giles.’ He pointed a long finger to the splashes on my shoes and trousers. I wiped them every day before entering Guy’s, but some bits always remained.
    ‘ The brown stains on your right index finger and thumb appear to be from harvesting parts of a medical plant. The Milk Thistle, I presume?’
    ‘ Correct.’
    ‘ You treat the poor free of charge, considering the herb which certainly is not used in hospitals. And there’s the location you chose to live - London’s worst rookery! You seem to have a tendency towards exaggerated philanthropy!’ He raised one eyebrow, his mouth lightly compressed. I could see a mix of amusement and dismissal in his face.
    ‘ You don’t care much about the appearance of your clothes,’ he went on. ‘They are a bit tattered on the sleeves and the collar, but surely not for lack of money. You have too little time! You probably have no tailor blind enough to not discover the details of your anatomy, no one you could trust at your home, no housekeeper or maid who could keep your secret. That forces you to do everything for yourself. In addition will be your nightly excursions into the slums to treat your neighbours. You probably don’t fancy sleep very much.’ His voice was taunting now.
    ‘ I sleep four hours on average.’ I wondered whether he noticed that I analysed him, too.
    He continue d his observations. ‘You are very compassionate, even with the dead,’ he pointed to the corpse between us. ‘One of the little typical female behaviours you exhibit. Although in your case it’s not merely learned - there is weight behind your compassion. I must conclude that you have felt guilty because someone you loved died. And now you want to help prevent that from happening to others. But you must fail, because death and disease are natural. Considering your peculiar circumstances and your unconventional behaviour, I propose you come from a poor home. Your father raised you after your mother died? Perhaps soon after your birth? Obviously there has not been much female influence in your upbringing.’
    U tterly taken aback by the triumph in his demeanour, I answered: ‘You are oversimplifying, Mr Holmes.’ Only with effort could I keep my anger under control. ‘It’s not guilt that drives me. I wouldn’t have got so far if not for the passion I feel for medicine. My mother did die and I resent you for the pride you feel in deducing private details of my life. Details I do not wish to discuss with you!’ Now the man’s gaze flickered a little. ‘I have met people like you in Harvard, Mr Holmes. Your brain is buzzing constantly and when not put to hard work you can tear yourself apart. Boredom is your greatest torture.’
    His breath stumbled over my words.
    ‘ What do you take when you are bored? Cocaine? It doesn’t help much, does it? Is it playing the cello that can put some order into that occasionally too-chaotic brain of yours?’
    I point ed to his left hand.
    ‘ No,’ I decided aloud, ‘for the cello wants to be embraced. You prefer the violin - she can be held at a distance.’
    Absentmindedly, he gazed at the faint calluses on the finger tips of his left hand, marks produced by pressing down strings.
    ‘ You are a passionate man and you hide that well. But do you really believe that solving a crime and outsmarting everyone around you is the greatest accomplishment?’
    His expression was unfathomable, but his pupils were dilated to the maximum - he was shocked.
    I rose to my feet and took a step forward. My face now close to his, I spoke softly. ‘It feels as though a stranger had ripped off all your clothes, doesn’t it?’
    Straighten ing up again I finished: ‘I dearly hope, for your own sake that