Kronberg Crimes 01 - The Devils Grin

noticed it as we came in, but hadn’t thought of a crime, as a pub’s window panes are chronically threatened by the clientele.
    ‘Yes…yes…two days ago,’ she stammered.
    ‘What has been taken?’
    ‘Food mostly, and the oil lamp from over the door,’ she said, pointing to the exit.
    ‘What about clothes?’ I asked. She stumbled backwards, almost bumping into the wall.
    ‘How did ya…? My husband’s coat – but how could ya…?’
    ‘It is but a simple observation of—’ I elbowed Holmes to interrupt his explanation. The woman was shocked enough and there was no need to pour more information into her already stunned brain.
    ‘Did the burglars leave something behind?’ he asked with an annoyed sideways glance at me.
    ‘Wha’ do ya mean?’ she said, and, upon noticing Holmes’s impatient look, she added: ‘No, he hasn’ left nuffink.’
    ‘Have you seen him?’ I asked.
    ‘No,’ she said and stomped off into the kitchen.

    ~~~

    We made our way back to the station and I asked Holmes whether he had also got the impression that the woman was hiding something. He snorted and answered, ‘Who isn’t?’
    As we took our seats on the train back to London he asked, ‘Is it possible to contract tetanus without an infected wound?’
    ‘Actually, it is. I was thinking about that last night. He could have got tetanus from eating bad or dirty meat. I have seen people eating cats, dogs and rats, and not having enough patience or wood for cooking them long enough will inevitably result in contracting whatever disease the animal had.’
    Holmes’s eyes glazed over and he was silent for a long time. We had almost reached London when he said, ‘We have to find Big Boots. Could he have contracted cholera, too?’
    ‘Not necessarily.’ I noticed the glint of hope in Holmes’s eyes fading.
    ‘Would a second cholera victim come in handy in helping you solve the case?’ I said coldly.
    He mirrored my stare and answered, ‘Without Big Boots, I will not be able to solve the case. There is not enough information.’
    After another long and silent stretch, I asked, ‘Mr Holmes, I’m rather confused. Two men take a walk together to the Thames. One dies of tetanus while having cholera in the final stage and is thrown into the river; the same having restraint marks on his wrists and ankles. Both men steal food and a coat, only hours before the coat is thrown into the water together with the man who wore it. That makes absolutely no sense.’
    ‘Hmm…’ answered Holmes. And that was the last word he spoke until we parted in London.

Chapter Five

    One week after the Hampton incident, I found a stranger in my ward. Patients were curiously gazing at the man who lay on the floor in silent agony. His spine was arched far back, arms pulled to his side, fists clenched, and feet cramped into an almost half-moon shape.
    In the short moment it took me to rush up to him, I saw I was too late. All I could do was kneel at his side, caress his head, and wait for the last seizure to release its grip.
    Patients that were strong enough pulled themselves up from their cots for a better view. Anxious muttering started filling the room, mixed with anger and pity. The man was perfectly still now, but for a barely noticeable vibration of all muscles in his tense body. His facial features were stretched into a devilish grin and his eyes were rolled far back into his skull. I placed my other hand on his chest. His heart was still beating but the muscle spasms forbade him to breathe.
    ‘Just one more moment,’ I whispered.
    His fluttering heart couldn’t accept its fate.
    ‘The pain will go away.’
    A minute later the strained heart fell silent. No one in the ward dared to speak. The presence of death sealed their lips. Only a few quiet coughs and the whimpering of a child cut through the void.
    This was one of the hardest things to accept: the moment when death came no matter what I did, and then to let it happen and give both, man and death, peace. And strangely enough, once I accepted it, it gave me peace, too. As though death had touched my shoulder to salute an old acquaintance and to tell me that, when he came for me, I would be able to give him that very same friendly salute.
    I closed the man’s eyes and left the ward to find someone who knew his identity. But I could not find a single soul who had even seen him being delivered. But that was impossible; he could not have walked in by himself.
    Nonplussed, I