Kronberg Crimes 01 - The Devils Grin

hard.
    ‘I am sorry; it was not my intention to humiliate you,’ I said.
    ‘You didn’t,’ he replied, still cold. Then I knew my assumption had been correct: someone had torn him apart a long time ago. No one is born untrusting, only made so.
    I refilled the cup he held in his hand. He nodded and took a mouthful, then offered it to me. I poured its entire content down my throat.
    We were quiet for a long time, eating, drinking and contemplating, until I interrupted the silence. ‘The flame was white.’
    ‘Yes, I know.’
    There was no use in calling the police. A white flame burns so hot that bones and even teeth are turned into ashes within twenty minutes.
    ‘What else did you see?’ I asked.
    ‘Much what you saw; I followed you.’
    ‘You are an exceptional detective and I can understand that you feel I’m in your way.’ Surprised, he looked at me and I continued, ‘I won’t budge. I have a personal interest in this crime. They are experimenting with highly dangerous bacteria and they shouldn’t be able to get past London’s best bacteriologist.’
    ‘You have a plan,’ he noted.
    ‘Yes. Both victims got infected with tetanus, one of them with cholera, as well. From now on, I will focus my research on tetanus and get so attractive that whoever is behind it will pay me a visit. There must be a number of medical doctors involved, and one of them will want my services, sooner or later.’
    Holmes exhaled audibly but, after a while, he said, ‘That is sensible.’
    It took me a moment to digest that.
    Then he added, ‘All evidence is destroyed, all victims burned. It will take them a while to start anew. They will have to select test subjects and I’m quite certain they will try to find them in workhouses.’ His smug smile told me he had a plan.
    ‘How do you plan to get into the workhouses?’
    Inviting, he raised an eyebrow and I said, ‘Not as a pauper?’
    ‘Isn’t that the most obvious strategy?’ He seemed a little disappointed by my question.
    ‘It is; I am just having problems picturing you in rags.’
    He smirked and looked at his watch, producing light with a match. It was two o’clock and the night had gone chilly. Somewhere close by, the tawny owl hooted again. I unfolded my blanket, moved closer to Holmes, and draped it over his legs and mine.
    ‘What happened in Broadmoor this morning?’ I enquired.
    Holmes hissed through his teeth, took a deep breath and said, ‘Nicholson had been warned and had the whole of the night to clean up. It was as clear as the bright daylight but Lestrade didn’t notice, as usual.’
    Images of Nicholson supervising the burning of corpses snuck back into my mind, I shuddered. ‘Who warned Nicholson?’
    ‘Gibson.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘He must have been in an exceptionally smart mood and wired the local police force, asking for reinforcement for the raid the following morning. As he did this against my instructions, he didn’t dare tell us before we left. The constable who received the wire is Nicholson’s nephew. Naturally, he warned his uncle.’
    ‘Shit! I mean…sorry! Drat is what I meant. My apologies, sometimes I’m a bucket.’
    ‘Excuse me, a what?’
    ‘Bucket,’ I said, tapping my skull with my index finger, ‘ empty vessel .’
    He slapped his knees and gave a bark of a laugh before muffling himself face down in his sleeve. I noticed that this was only the second time I had seen him laughing. After a long moment he said earnestly, ‘I believe your vessel is full to the brim.’
    Abashed, I fell silent.
    By now, we had emptied half the brandy and Holmes commented on the lack of his pipe. Light-headed, I extracted my tobacco pouch. He watched me roll a cigarette, pinching the paper tight around the brown plant clippings, sending my tongue’s tip across its edges, and picking excess tobacco from both ends. Without comment he picked the cigarette from my offering hand, and I made myself one, too.
    ‘May I ask something personal?’ he said cautiously.
    ‘Try,’ I answered, tipping another brandy into my mouth in preparation for what may come.
    ‘How did you receive the long scar on your abdomen?’
    My throat clenched like a fist.
    ‘My apologies, I shouldn’t have asked. Especially when considering the peculiar situation,’ he said, pointing at our legs stuck under the same blanket.
    ‘I think coming to your home every day for two weeks to cure your pneumonia might be even more peculiar.’
    ‘Probably.’
    The