Kronberg Crimes 01 - The Devils Grin

for certain, Inspector. The man most likely died of cholera and floated in the river for one or two days. Both of which he did upstream of London, and that,’ I poked the air with my index finger, ‘is highly unusual. Not to forget the restraint marks on his wrists. Or do you have a sound explanation for any of these facts?’
    Gibson did not reply, only looked expectant, hoping perhaps that I would solve the case for him. Meanwhile, Holmes had refocused his absent-minded gaze as though he only now noticed our company. Irritated by the two men, I turned my face away to speak to the window instead, ‘I will dissect the body upon arrival at Guy’s and will hopefully learn what happened to the man. I’ll send you a report tomorrow.’
    ‘I will assist,’ stated Mr Holmes with delight.
    ‘Excuse me? Mr Holmes, I will certainly not allow a lay person to attend a dissection of a cholera fatality.’
    ‘I believe you will.’ His intense stare told me that I would indeed, should I wish to keep my identity a secret.

    ~~~

    We arrived at Guy’s after one hour of stale silence. At the porter’s, I asked for a nurse and a cart to help transport the body to the dissecting department, a small red-brick building containing an antechamber equipped with several slabs of marble. We had the place to ourselves, as no anatomical lessons were given on Saturdays. That also meant I could disinfect the room with fumes of concentrated acid without having to discuss the issue with curious students.
    Afterwards, I would prepare a report for the Home Office, stating, in essence, that there was no danger of cholera transmission through London’s drinking water supply.
    Gibson took his leave, not too eager to watch me cut up a floater, while I provided Mr Holmes and myself with an India rubber apron, gloves and a mask. The last was a simple device made of fine, double-layered fabric, which I had invented for such occasions. With the mask covering nose and mouth, dangerous airborne germs could not infect the man conducting a dissection or surgery – or, in my case, the woman. I felt nauseated at the thought that the man next to me knew my secret.
    ‘Mr Holmes, may I recommend you visit a circus next time you want to see a curiosity?’ I noted, regretting the snide comment instantly.
    He coughed and replied, ‘I guess I must apol—’
    ‘Actually, this is not what worries me!’ I slammed my hand onto the marble, wondering about the apparent lack of self control. ‘I’m seriously considering blackmailing you. Unfortunately, you are rather sharp and my chances of winning such a game or even finding a rancid spot with which to taint your reputation are probably close to nil. So maybe you just assume I have been thoroughly friendly…’ I decided to better keep my mouth shut. At least until my hands have stopped trembling.
    Mr Holmes, though, laughed heartily. ‘I suppose your deceit is morally justifiable, although, if exposed, will cause a public outcry. Fortunately, we both have the right to private judgement. Trust me, Dr Kronberg, exposing you to the police or anyone else appears utterly unattractive to me.’
    I peered over the edge of my mask and found his expression to be sincere enough. And yet, the stiffness of my spine would not disappear. To turn the attention to the matter at hand, I nodded at the corpse and we undid the blanket and hoisted the body onto the slab’s polished surface.
    With a pair of tweezers I collected the fragments of flora and fauna that had caught on the body’s clothes and hair and placed them into a small bowl. Then I cut off the man’s coat.
    His shirt buttons did not show any grease prints, nor did the buttons of his trousers. I then proceeded to cut off the remainder of all his clothes and found restraint marks not only on his wrists, but also his ankles, as well as needle punctures in the bend of the man’s left elbow.
    I pointed out the punctures and Holmes nodded, scanning each square inch of newly revealed skin as I undressed the man in front of us.
    ‘The punctures look professionally done, not like the holes they punch into people in opium dens. He must have seen a medical doctor. Highly unusual,’ I observed while picking up my largest knife.
    I was uncertain about Holmes’s endurance when it came to slicing apart human beings, so I kept half an eye on him while cutting a large Y into the man’s torso, starting at the clavicles and extending down to the pubic bone. Holmes,