Chapter 12
Outside the police station the next day, Saffron shifted from foot to foot.
Peering down the street, she saw nothing more than mid-morning traffic.
She fidgeted with her hair, in a different style today, parted in the middle, with curls tucked up to resemble a bob, rather than her usual waves and coiled bun.
Although she dismissed it as silly, Elizabeth’s suggestion to wear different lipstick and her hair in another style so as not to be recognized as Dr. Maxwell’s “niece” wasn’t a terrible idea.
She didn’t need Inspector Green being reminded she had been caught in a lie before.
Relief steadied her pulse as she saw Alexander, looking harassed, walking quickly down the street toward her.
He muttered an apology and led her inside the police station.
He spoke to the sergeant at the desk, a different man from last time, who didn’t look twice at Saffron, and then they sat on the hard wooden bench and waited.
“Alexander,” Saffron whispered, fingers twisting the fingertips of her gloves. “I should tell you, last time I was here, I pretended to be Dr. Maxwell’s niece.”
He nodded, expression unchanging. “I see.”
“And Inspector Green thinks we are involved beyond what our working relationship requires,” she added, cheeks heating.
Alexander frowned. “All right.”
Saffron shot him a dubious look. “All right? I’ve just told you I lied to the police, and they think that we’re … well, they think that you can’t be trusted to be objective when I’m involved. We’re about to give evidence to them!”
Alexander looked sideways at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We can’t do anything about it now. Just don’t bring it up. Plus, I see that you’ve adopted a disguise. No one will recognize you as the false niece.”
They waited for ten minutes before Inspector Green marched through the doors with a small paper bag from which was emanating a scent of bread, asked the sergeant for updates, then turned with a frown to his guests in the visitors’ chairs.
“Good morning, Inspector,” Saffron said brightly, her nervousness dissipating at the amusing prospect of the inspector’s breakfast. “Please, don’t allow us to keep you. We are happy to wait.”
“Thank you,” he said curtly, and marched on into the din of shuffling bodies and paper.
They were shown into the inspector’s office a few minutes later, where the warm scent of bread had disappeared into the musty miasma of the station.
The small room was as neat as Alexander’s office, though stuffed to the gills with files.
They were organized with precision on his desk, and numerous filing cabinets covered the dark paneling on the walls.
The paint had probably once been white, but now looked gray in the dim light from the frosted window behind the inspector’s desk.
When they sat in a pair of rickety chairs, Saffron looked expectantly at Alexander.
“Inspector Green,” he began, “Miss Everleigh and I have some evidence regarding the poisoning of Mrs. Henry.”
The inspector opened his notebook and poised his pen at the top of a page. “Go on.”
Alexander took a deep breath and began. “Miss Everleigh and I had some thoughts regarding the suspected use of the xolotl plant. Dr. Maxwell was responsible for the plant originally, but since he returned from his travels with a cutting some years ago, it has lived in the greenhouses at the university, where nearly anyone could get some. I myself went into the greenhouses with no trouble the other day, although I’m not a member of the botany department.
The caretaker mentioned that several people had recently shown an interest in the plant. ”
Here he paused, giving the inspector an opportunity to interrupt. He didn’t, but merely looked back at Alexander.
Saffron’s fingers were slippery within her gloves. Why did Inspector Green have to be so inexpressive? She had no idea what he was thinking.
“Miss Everleigh was distressed that Dr. Maxwell was arrested. She suggested we conduct an experiment to prove that the xolotl vine was not the plant used to poison Mrs. Henry.” Alexander shifted uncomfortably, coming to the lie.
“Using the guidance of an old journal Miss Everleigh discovered among Dr. Maxwell’s things, we retrieved a sample of the plant, and Miss Everleigh took a small dose to see what the effects were.
We recorded the experiment to the best of our abilities and brought the results to you. ”
Saffron passed Inspector Green her typed notes and the tattered notebook. He opened and scanned through the summary on the first page. As he read, his face was still impassive as ever, although toward the end his mouth thinned to a grim line.
“Well, Mr. Ashton,” he said, leaning back in his chair and putting down his pen, “this certainly seems to point in the direction of the xolotl plant not being the culprit.”
“That is what we believe,” Alexander replied, matching the inspector’s unaffected tone.
“You say that you agreed to carry out this experiment. I find it hard to believe that you would allow Miss Everleigh to take poison with your support.”
Compared to the two men, Saffron felt ready to burst with all the tension.
She jumped in. “Mr. Ashton offered to take it himself, of course. But it had to be me, the same approximate height and weight of Mrs. Henry, for the experiment to be as relevant as possible.” She cursed her quick, nervous cadence.
“Even so, Miss Everleigh,” the inspector said, turning his impassive eyes to her, “because of your own suspected involvement, you must see that I cannot take you at your word.”
“Of course not, Inspector,” she said. “You’re not taking just my word. You’re taking Mr. Ashton’s, too, who witnessed the experiment.”
“Indeed,” he said, his voice utterly flat.
“I know it isn’t my place to say, but there are a number of other people who attended the party who could have been the poisoner,” Saffron said earnestly. “Dr. Henry, for one. Even Richard Blake could have been responsible.”
It was surprisingly infuriating how unsurprisingly indifferent the inspector was. Her words dried up at his blank face.
“I hope that you will take our evidence into consideration.” Alexander stood and shook the inspector’s hand. Saffron shook his hand too, and they exited his office.
A dull gray cover of clouds darkened with every step, matching Saffron’s downcast mood. In silence, they stepped onto the bus to the university, and the sky gave way to rain. Umbrellas swelled to life, and the streets slickened through the dirty bus windows.
On reaching the Euston Square stop, she and Alexander sheltered under an archway of one of the lodges that flanked the circle drive of the garden.
Saffron leaned on the cool brick, looking out at the fresh green grass.
Alexander, partially shadowed beneath the arch, faced the memorial obelisk.
His hair, black with rainwater, curled on his forehead.
Saffron looked appreciatively at him for a moment before recalling herself to the matter at hand. “Now what?”
“Not sure,” Alexander said, still gazing out onto the green. “I have a lot to do.”
“I suppose I do too. Are you going to the North Wing?” she asked hopefully. Perhaps he was ready to continue their work from the other day.
“I have to confirm with Blake that he received my equipment orders.”
“Oh, you’re meeting Mr. Blake. Perhaps I’ll come along and see what I can get out of him.”
Alexander’s brow creased in a frown. “You can’t just go about interrogating people. What reason would you give for speaking with him?”
“Well aware, Ashton,” she said sourly. “I don’t think there’s any harm in asking a few questions. I’ll figure out something.”
When the rain gentled, they made their way toward the tall columns of the Wilkins Building, where the administrative offices for the university had their home in the lower levels. Despite his objection, Alexander showed Saffron where Blake’s office was, and they parted company outside his door.
Saffron returned to the lobby, to contemplate her strategy for questioning the funding coordinator.
Alexander might not think she had any business asking Blake what he knew, but someone had to look at the other suspects if the police weren’t doing it.
Dr. Maxwell was still trapped in that awful room at the police station, and it didn’t seem like her experiment was going to get him out.
It was frustrating how right Alexander had been.
The administrative offices were more polished than the rest of the university buildings.
White and black tile shone in the many overhead gilt lights, and there were elegant red chairs situated around matching rugs for esteemed visitors.
Saffron claimed a seat near the window, noting that the chair looked far better than it felt.
From her perch, Saffron watched a woman stomp through the center of the Quad and veer off toward the door on Saffron’s left.
A man scurried after her, clad in gray livery that was wet through, and holding up an umbrella, as if the woman wasn’t equally wet and clearly furious.
Eris Ermine stomped into the lobby. The young man dashed after her, desperate in his dripping chauffeur cap and apologizing profusely. “The crack in the pavement caused me to trip and I—”
“Just go back to the car, Brigham. Leave the umbrella. I can’t rely on you to hold the silly thing, apparently, so I’ll just do it myself,” Miss Ermine said.
Brigham put the umbrella in the umbrella stand and walked away, tail between his legs.
Miss Ermine looked furiously about her, her red hair damp and beginning to frizz beneath her wilted pink cloche.
“Miss Ermine!” Saffron called in a friendly voice. “How nice to see you again.”