Kronberg Crimes 01 - The Devils Grin

between us while continuing my explanation, ‘The frame and the glass appear to be free of fingerprints. I guess she was touched once to be put there. The maid cleans your rooms daily; but she’s not very thorough, mostly because she doesn’t dare touch your personal belongings.’
    Reaching one of the two tall windows next to the fireplace, I opened it and pulled the curtain aside while coughing and taking a deep breath of fresh air. The room was filled with pipe smoke. Inwardly, I was vibrating with excitement and foreboding — I was about to step on a rather fragile tightrope.
    ‘There is only one possible explanation, Mr Holmes. You dislike the woman, yet you keep her photograph. That can only mean that you adore her in an odd way. Considering what I learned about you yesterday, I conclude that she outwitted you. You are convinced you are the smartest man alive and being outwitted by a woman is more than unacceptable to you. This is your greatest preconception and your weakest spot. You should get rid of it.’
    With these last words my hand shot out of the window. Holmes inhaled a hiss and bent his long body towards me, reaching for Irene.
    ‘For Christ’s sake!’ he huffed, as I placed her gently on the outside windowsill.
    ‘Would you be so kind as to tell me what you think about the Hampton man’s death, Mr Holmes?’ I asked.
    ‘There isn’t much to think,’ he snarled and picked Irene up. ‘All that’s needed is but a simple calculation: the maximum distance the man could have floated was thirty miles. He entered the Thames as a corpse. That means he was close to death before he even got there. He can only have contracted cholera at a densely populated place with a lack of hygiene, and he could not have walked very far. It follows that he must have been close to a village or city. There is only one place that fits these facts like a glove fits the hand!’
    ‘And which place would that be?’
    He ignored me and put the picture back on the mantelpiece.
    ‘I wonder why you are so observant,’ he muttered after a moment. I opened my mouth to reply, but he held up his hand. ‘Of course! You are behind the veil; the one no one sees but who can perceive everything. You must be observant to protect your life in disguise.’
    His back still towards me, he asked, ‘Would you accompany me to Chertsey Meads?’
    ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘Do I have to repeat the question?’ He turned around.
    ‘Is that a pub?’ I joked.
    ‘It is a wetland.’
    I took my time to find the right words. ‘I must confess I feel honoured by your invitation, although I’m not so sure why I would be. However, I also have the feeling that the main reason for your invitation is that you can study me a little longer. That irks me because I am not a curiosity. And your constant probing of my brain is highly annoying.’ I saw him pulling his eyebrows together and asked, ‘Why should I come with you, Mr Holmes?’
    The corners of his mouth twitched a little in a hint of a smug smile. ‘Because you enjoyed yourself too much, and there is nothing at the moment you would like to do more than to probe my brain for a little while longer.’

Chapter Four

    We sat on the train to Chertsey and the landscape whizzed past unnoticed. To my surprise, I enjoyed myself discussing the Whitechapel murders with Holmes. The topic itself, though, was rather unpleasant. Jack the Ripper had killed at least six women. He had cut their throats, sliced their abdomens open, draped their intestines over both their shoulders, and had taken souvenirs with him — usually the victim’s uterus.
    Holmes’s opinion of the Yard’s efforts was very low. ‘Every time I receive a telegram from the police, the bodies have already been taken away to the morgue,’ he exclaimed. ‘The staff have extracted organs and sold them as surgical specimens. Of course they never remember what they took and what was already taken! I have serious doubts that this murder series will ever be resolved and the culprit found. The incompetence of the responsible investigators, the corruptive medical staff, the sheer number of pseudo-witnesses, and the papers’ floods of misinformation will render all investigations futile!’
    He looked rather ruffled, with his mouth compressed and hands knuckling the seat.
    Gazing out the window, I sorted through my mind, trying to find the right words. ‘Owing to my occupation, I come across a rather large number of stab wounds,’ I