Kronberg Crimes 01 - The Devils Grin

charcoal. Very interesting, Mr McFadin, thank you!’
    McFadin’s red shade deepened and he smiled confidently. ‘Do you think you can find out where he came from, or who he was?’
    I shook my head. ‘Most likely not. I don’t think that he had all his bearings together as he wrote that note. I don’t even know what it could mean. But I’ll give it some thought and let you know if I can find anything of interest.’
    Disappointment showed in his face, but he still seemed proud to have found the note. I thanked him again, went to my office and prepared a wire: To Sherlock Holmes, Baker Street 221B: Found something. If interested meet at seven at Carole’s, The Strand. A.K.

    ~~~

    I sat at a small table in the back of Carole’s with a candle providing some light. As the time approached twenty past seven, my stomach yowled at me and I decided to order my supper. At that very moment Holmes swiftly walked in, sat down opposite me and looked curious.
    ‘I know you are fairly busy with much more interesting things than this odd case of mine,’ I said. He answered with a frown.
    ‘Honestly, Mr Holmes, I’m sure the criminal world holds countless more intriguing mysteries than this one. However, this may add some information; provided you have a clue what it could mean?’
    I unfolded the note. He took it gingerly and stared down at it with his eyebrows pushed together.
    ‘A student of mine found it during his anatomy lesson today.’
    He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut across him, ‘He and another student dissected Big Boots’s right hand.’
    Holmes’s face flushed in excitement and he slapped his hand on the table. Darkness fell. A loud clatter told us that the silverware had jumped off the ledge.
    ‘My apologies.’ He struck a match and moved the flame towards the wick. I noticed the contrast of warm light against silver grey eyes and turned my gaze away.
    The waiter appeared and I got the impression he moved on small wheels attached to his shoes. He glided away with our orders scribbled on his small notepad.
    ‘Mr Holmes?’
    ‘Hmm?’
    ‘Any clue?’
    Silently, he extracted his magnifying glass, moved closer to the candle and examined the paper.
    ‘Hmm… No marks. He used charcoal, very soft material. Unintelligible and smudged…’
    Then he straightened up and sat there for a moment. His eyeballs were moving occasionally, lips twitching, brow furrowing. I was certain he would talk to himself if he were alone. The waiter returned and placed our supper on the table. Holmes took no notice of his meal. I had almost finished eating as he seemed to return to the present. ‘Do you think we could hear the oriole’s call in Berkshire?’
    Hastily, I swallowed the last bit of pork before inhaling it accidentally, opened my mouth, and closed it again with a snap. After a moment of consideration, I answered, ‘Broadmoor Lunatic Asylum? I’m sorry, but I can’t imagine…’ I shook my head. ‘The place is enormous and well controlled; you would need to involve a lot of people to hush up a break-out.’
    ‘Yet, the note reads B…OR,’ he replied. ‘Both men were at Chertsey at a time when one of them was seriously ill and very weak. The distance they travelled could not have been more than twenty miles, I dare say. Within a twenty-mile radius of Chertsey, we have only four places that start with a B: Bracknell, Bagshot, Brookwood, and Broadmoor, and B…OR only fits the last.’
    ‘What if he wrote down a name?’
    ‘That is one possibility. But for now let’s assume he had enough brains not to write down the name of a person, as that would be much harder to find than a location. If the two had indeed been in Broadmoor, contracted cholera and tetanus, and broke out without the Yard’s knowledge, then we have an intriguing situation and one should wonder why it has not been reported.’
    Holmes was all focus and excitement now. He may have appeared calm and even rigid to the onlooker, but the movements of his entire body were many, very quick, and very small — eyes narrowing a fraction and opening up again, lips compressing, corners of the mouth pulling up or down very slightly, hands gripping the table just a little harder, then letting go again, breath slowing and speeding up, feet shuffling ever so slightly. He vibrated.
    ‘It appears that both were victims of medical maltreatment, to say the least,’ he went on. ‘Both seem to have been infected with tetanus on purpose, which