Kronberg Crimes 01 - The Devils Grin

a bacteriologist to continue your work. I am your first choice, but you do not trust me. Naturally.’
    He smiled again. It was worse than a gun pressed to my head.
    ‘No, I do not trust you in the least. And yes, I require the services of a bacteriologist. Although you are the best to be found in England, you are also the one bearing the greatest risk. I need to be certain I have your loyalty.’
    What could I possibly offer? My life? He already had it in his hands.
    ‘Of course, you could choose to be shot right away. But decide quickly now, or I will do it for you.’
    I gazed down at my hands, anticipating the moment I would drive a blade into the man’s throat. Slowly, I let go of all the air in my lungs.
    ‘Am I to isolate pathogens for warfare?’
    Another warm smile.
    ‘You remind me of him,’ I whispered. His stunned expression opened a wide spectrum of possibilities for me. A second later he had blinked the shock away.
    ‘You have my loyalty,’ I answered.
    All I got as a response was a scant nod. ‘Drink your tea,’ he said, filling my cup.
    Finally I noticed the peculiar situation—the brute had made tea, the brain served it. I gazed at the two. ‘What else is in it?’
    ‘Chloral,’ the taller answered lightly.
    ‘Ah,’ I exhaled. ‘How much?’
    ‘A few drops.’
    I nodded and took the cup. The harmless-looking tea produced circular ripples just before I tipped it into my mouth. The brew carried a peculiar sting. ‘You never introduced yourself,’ I noted.
    ‘My apologies. This is my friend and trustworthy companion Colonel Sebastian Moran, and I am Professor James Moriarty.’
    Slowly, my surroundings unhinged. I looked at the window which seemed unnaturally far off. Had it not been rectangular a few minutes ago?
    ‘I forgot to mention a small detail,’ said Moriarty, his voice reverberating in my skull, words melting into one another. ‘By the time you regain consciousness, your father will be my hostage. Should you do anything that could jeopardise our work or my safety, he will die immediately and, I must say, rather painfully.’
    The world tipped and the table approached with shocking speed.

Acknowledgements
    I am so grateful for my husband’s deep love and his belief in my writing (besides other obsessions). He and our friend Martha Schattenhofer had to endure the awful first drafts and luckily slapped them over my head repeatedly. I survived, as you may have noticed.
    Many thanks go to Ronald Kötteritzsch, who loved even the early versions of The Devil’s Grin .
    I am deeply indebted to my faithful reviewers at www.thenextbigwriter.com . Especially T.M. Hobbs, who let me torture her all the way through, and Phyl Manning, who took me aside and told me to stop babbling (SHOW us, don’t tell us, baby!).
    J.E. Nissley and Nancy DeMarco, two of the most talented writers I have ever had the pleasure to come across and the honour to review their work and be reviewed by them. The humbling number of authors at TNBW giving me advice and helping me to become a better writer (uh, I did say writer, now, didn’t I?) shall be given names here: Q.X.T. Rhazmeulen, Bonnie Milani, dagnee, David Reynolds, C.E. Jones, Debbie Lampi, and John DeBoehr. And special thanks to Janet Taylor-Perry for yet another round of proofreading.
    Another brilliant author, who was an invaluable help and whose advice and mere interest in my writing still makes me giddy, is Paul Negri.
    I’m quite relieved that I and my novel survived the scrutinizing read of Alistair Duncan from the Sherlock Holmes Society London.
    The last was the first: Ruben Zorilla, who accidentally received a full-length draft and fell in love with the story. Thank you, Ruben, for your praise and support. You were my first ever reader!
    To all of you, I do the full prostration (picture me touching my knees with my nose).

    5th Edition.
    A warm thank you to all the people who already read The Devil’s Grin , especially to the ones who left feedback on Amazon, Goodreads, LibraryThing, Facebook, and Twitter. Many thanks go to Karen Schoch McDaniel and Rita Singer for one last proof read and killing all ‘em evil grammar nits.

Leaves Fall at Night
    by Ulli Rische

    Under moonless sky
    During early morning hours
    Future generations
    Fall upon the season.

    Still enough this breathless hour
    To hear once nurturing stems snap
    From loving limbs their freedom echoes softly
    Within this groggy world.

    Riding thin tracers of star