Kronberg Crimes 01 - The Devils Grin

warm angler-fish smile.
    I nodded and smiled back at him, trying not to think of my aching shoulder. The force of his grip made my broken ribs rattle a little. Or so it felt.
    ‘I hope we can discuss our research and our visions one day?’ he asked, and I smiled and nodded more, now hoping desperately that he would take that paw off me.
    And he did, just before he bade me farewell. He was about to leave my lab when he came to a sudden stop. It looked as though he had practised this move.
    ‘Dr Kronberg, as I come to think of it now, I can just as well ask you. I am developing a tetanus vaccine together with a few colleagues in Cambridge and London, and I was wondering whether you would like to collaborate with us? Your pure cultures could bring a swift success to our research project, I believe.’
    My stomach made a lurch. I faked surprise and said, smiling, ‘I am flattered, Dr Stark. Thank you for your kind invitation. Of course I would like to work with you. I never heard of a project like that, though? Since when have you been working on the vaccine?’
    ‘Ah, well, only a few months now.’ He sounded evasive. ‘You couldn’t have heard about it as we are financing ourselves mostly through private sources. We did not get governmental funding, but you know these problems.’
    I nodded in agreement.
    ‘Good, then!’ he said, while approaching me again and giving me a clap on my sore shoulder. ‘I will have to leave now; I have other business to attend to here in London. May I send you a telegram to invite you to Cambridge some time soon?’
    ‘I would be delighted, Dr Stark.’
    Now the sick feeling spread freely through my chest. I had to talk to Holmes today, I thought while rubbing my shoulder.

    ~~~

    Two hours before leaving Guy’s, I prepared a cryptic wire for Holmes: Dare to dance with a Saxon? Eight o’clock, Wilson & Bow. Bring your disguise. A.K. P.S: Got a name for you.’
    Once at home, I quickly ate a sandwich, grabbed the three loaves of bread and two bottles of brandy I had got for tonight, and went to one of the neighbouring houses. We were to have a party. Although I wouldn’t be able to dance yet, I could still enjoy the music and the company for a little while.
    A small crowd had already gathered on the ground floor of an old warehouse and everyone had brought a little food and drink. The Irish were sitting on wooden boxes behind a makeshift table. There I placed the bread and the brandy, noting that I may come back for a small gulp.
    ‘Sure,’ they said in unison, all wearing a wide grin, before each chucked down a glass of their newly won refreshments. Then, they started tooting and scratching a little on their two fiddles, the one accordion and the tin whistle. Amused, I recalled an Irish proverb — What butter and whiskey won’t cure, there is no cure for — and wondered whether I should try that as a new treatment for my patients. Then I remembered that I may not have any patients at all if I got to work for Stark and his colleagues . I would have test subjects instead.
    About fifty people were assembled. It was still very cold, but the fire in the centre of the large hall and the dancing would soon warm up the place. The music started with a blast and everyone was on his or her feet, dancing, clapping, laughing and singing. I got the feeling of standing on an active volcano. Despite my sore head and ribcage, I enjoyed myself. Then I spotted Garret — he stood in a corner and observed me before giving himself a push forward.
    ‘Anna,’ was all he said. He looked rather serious today and I wondered what the matter was with him.
    ‘Garret,’ I answered, smiling warmly.
    ‘What ’bout a dance?’
    ‘I can’t,’ I said, rolling my eyes and regretting it instantly as my head started spinning.
    ‘No bother, jus’ wanted ter talk to ya. Besides, we can dance slowly.’ He led me outside, took my hand into his, and placed the other on my waist. Then we danced oddly slow to the fast Irish folk music that seeped through the warehouse walls.
    ‘So I was thinkin’ tha’… tha’…’ He stopped there, stared down at his boots, then squared his shoulders and spoke. ‘Ya told me ter never ask ya, but… I thought, screw it. So… Would you be my wife, Anna?’
    That punched all the air out of my lungs.
    I pushed myself from him and quietly answered: ‘No.’
    ‘Because I’m a feckin’ hobbler?’
    ‘I have always known you as a thief, Garret. And yes, this