The Devil's Grin - a Crime Novel Featuring Anna Kronberg and Sherlock Holmes by Annelie Wendeberg Read Free Book Online Page A

to salute an old acquaintance and to tell me that when he came for me, I would be able to give him that very same friendly salute.
    I left the dead man and asked the first nurse I could find whether she knew his identity. It turned out that not a single soul had seen him being delivered. But that was impossible. He couldn’t have walked in by himself. Someone must have helped him.
    I spotted the old porter, Mr Osburn, who paced back and forth at the ward’s entrance. He saw me peering in his direction and approached me hastily.
    ‘ What is it?’ I barked and immediately regretted my harsh behaviour.
    ‘’ E’s dead, inn’ ‘e?’ He said anxiously.
    ‘ Yes, he died. Did you know him?’
    ‘ Oh, no!’ Said Osburn shaking his head, his large ears almost flapping. ‘Didn’ know ‘im. Foun’ ‘im on the street, jus’ in front of ter gate.’
    ‘ What?’
    He was about to repeat him self, but I cut him off with a flick of my hand. ‘Did you see who dropped him off?’
    ‘ No, docte r, am sorry, didn’ see nuffink.’
    ‘ No one walking away? Or a cab driving off?’
    He was thinking hard, pulling his left ear, looking fragile. Osburn was a shrivelled old man, friendly and forthcoming, but lonely in his porter house and probably even more so at home.
    He pulled himself together and answered in a clear voice: ‘Now that yer mention it, I heard ter crack of a whip. Then ter whinnyin’ of a horse, jus’ a minute afore I heard ter gasping of a man, tha’ man, yer know, and then I found ‘im. An’ got ‘im here.’
    ‘ Why didn’t you tell anyone that you brought him in?’ I tried to say it friendly, but failed. He started stammering.
    ‘ Am sorry, am sorry, I didn’ know what ter do, ‘e were a dyin’ man, yer know, and I jus’… I jus’… put ‘im ‘ere. An’ Billy from ter disinfectors helped, and we didn’ see no docter and no nurses and didn’ know what ter do! I ran around and didn’ find no one, all ter time thinkin’ about tha’ poor man dyin’. And then I came back and you were ‘ere an’… an’… ‘e were dead.’
    The old man had tried his best to help and I’d behaved like a snotnose.
    ‘ My apologies, Mr Osburn,’ I mumbled ashamed. He stammered something unintelligible in response and hobbled back to his little porter house.
    I asked a nurse to send the body to the anatomy lecture hall and to announce a presentation at four o'clock for students of medicine and bacteriology.

    ~~~

    I stood in the centre of a room the shape of a semicircle, a single marble slab with a contorted corpse in front of me, and behind it several rows of students. Most of them were familiar to me and the few new ones in the first two rows would soon push back. The room was packed; murmurs and the scraping of feet filled the air.
    I coughed and most faces turned into my direction. The ones who knew the rules elbowed the new students who were about to light their cigarettes or pipes, resulting in a short moment of confusion and muttering.
    ‘ Ladies and Gentleman!’ I announced - it was my private bold joke, as only male students were admitted. Not to mention male lecturers. After a short moment the hall went quiet. My reputation here was such that students obeyed the few rules I set: no talking and no smoking or they would have to leave immediately. But they also knew there wouldn’t be a dull moment in the next hour and a half.
    ‘ Today around noon, this man was found at the entrance gate. He had severe muscle spasms and couldn't walk any further. He was brought into the ward for infectious disease and died within minutes. Can anyone tell me the cause of death?’
    After a moment, a new student from the front row squared his shoulders and cried: ‘Tetanus!’
    I smiled. ‘You might be wrong there.’
    He defended himself: ‘With all due respect, Dr Kronberg-’
    ‘ I do hope so, Mister , but I fear you forgot to introduce yourself.’
    ‘ My name is Wallace McFadin. ’
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