Kronberg Crimes 01 - The Devils Grin

blood, and insults at me.
    The cart came to a halt, and one of the two policemen slammed me back on to my seat. Nicholson was bleeding copiously, his eyes full of hate and I was certain that he would have wrung my neck here and now if he could only have freed his hands. My lips twitched to a smile and I let Nicholson see it. Naturally, it did nothing to improve his mood.
    Feeling like a queen on her throne, I rode along. The time of the Club was over.

    ~~~

    We arrived at the local police station after a twenty minute drive.
    ‘Put this man into a separate cell, Inspector. He was the head of the gang and I must interview him at once,’ said Holmes with a most convincing coldness in his voice. Even the small hair on the back of my neck believed it and bristled.
    An inspector pushed me into a small interrogation room and pressed me down on a stool. He left and locked the heavy iron door behind me. Only a minute later someone unlocked it again. I heard Holmes’s footfall, the door being locked again — which surprised me — and two swift steps being taken towards me before his face appeared in front of mine.
    Exceedingly carefully, he inspected my head. The cut he had made was irrelevant. The bruise on my forehead did hurt, but it would heal soon enough. He was so focused on probing my superficial wounds with gentle fingers that he didn’t notice my gaze.
    And, without thinking, I closed my eyes and pressed my face into his palm. He froze, as did time and our surroundings. All that was audible was the rumbling of my heart and the slow hiss of breaths being taken. He moved closer then, and, for a moment, I thought he would pull me into an embrace. But his hands went behind my back and the manacles clicked and fell to the floor.
    He cleared his throat. ‘You broke Nicholson’s nose.’
    ‘I identified his footprint,’ I explained.
    He straightened up then, and started to speak as someone knocked and shouted, ‘The brougham is ready, Mr Holmes.’
    ‘Come,’ he said, picking up the manacles again. ‘I’ll have to put them back on for the time being. I’m to transfer you to London, Yard’s main quarters.’
    I nodded and placed my hands behind my back.

Chapter Twenty-Three

    The horses pawed the ground impatiently as Holmes walked me over to the carriage and gruffly shoved me in. The driver flicked the whip, the brougham made a lurch and smashed my back and cuffed wrists against the wall behind me. A few seconds later after my tingling hands were freed, Holmes sat down opposite from me and spoke quietly.
    ‘Officially, I’m on my way to the Metropolitan Police headquarters to turn you in. Unofficially, I, Lestrade and another twenty men will take down the other members of the Club. The ones residing at Cambridge will be arrested by the local police force there.’
    ‘Hmm… I figured that much,’ I mumbled, wringing my red-rimmed wrists. ‘But how the deuce did you plan to escape? My presence was more or less coincidental. They could have done without me today.’
    He waved his hand, indicating that he had not waited for my arrival or my help. ‘There were so many holes in their security system that I must wonder why they chose Broadmoor as a location. After all, several breakouts have been reported, it is known that the mortar in the brick walls is soft, that bars can be dismounted. And even without all these possibilities,’ here he threw his hands up, ‘the guards for Christ’s sake! They carry revolvers so carelessly, I could have snatched them almost every time these mindless men passed by!’
    I smiled at my hands, happy and relieved that all was over. Well, almost.
    ‘What about the man at the Dundee School of Medicine?’ I asked.
    ‘Him, I could not find,’ he answered. ‘But it appears that this case is much more complex than we expected. I wondered for a while now about a possible involvement of the government. You remember that Standrincks is paid through governmental sources?’
    I raised my eyebrows.
    ‘Of course you do. So I went to visit my brother—’
    ‘You have a brother?’ I interrupted, and he answered with a shrug.
    ‘Mycroft told me—’
    ‘Mycroft? By Jove! Sherlock, Mycroft, what were your parents thinking?’
    He stared at me wide-eyed.
    ‘My apologies. Pray proceed,’ I said, feeling rather red in my face.
    After an indignant harrumph, he said, ‘My dear brother is working for the government, but likes to believe he is the government. Sometimes I do think