Chapter 19
Saffron sped back to the nearly deserted North Wing, hoping Alexander was still there. Their argument utterly forgotten, she burst through his door, ready to spill Dr. Henry’s revelations.
He looked up with raised brows. “Saffron, I was just leaving—”
“Not yet!” Saffron exclaimed. “It’s important! I just finished meeting with Dr. Henry.”
Alexander set his bag down on his chair. “What happened?”
“The poor man was terribly overwrought. He was drunk and in tears.”
Alexander stared at her. “Good Lord, Everleigh, what did you do to him?”
“I asked about his wife, and he cracked like an egg. After he had a few drinks, he told me that she had filed for divorce and he had no idea what to do,” she said, wide-eyed and still breathing hard.
“I was absolutely shocked. I mean, he’s a world-renowned scholar and explorer, and he totally fell apart.
I think he really does love her. I don’t think he poisoned her. ”
“It’s still possible he tried to poison Blake but got his wife by mistake. That would make him miserable and guilty.”
“Blake!” Saffron exclaimed, hands raised in aggravation. “I didn’t ask Dr. Henry about the equipment forms. How could I have forgotten? Key evidence!” She shook her head at her missed opportunity. “Oh well. I’ll have the chance to find out more tomorrow.”
Alexander glanced at his watch. “I’m sorry, I really must go.”
Face heating at the realization that her interruption was unwanted, she said, “Oh, of course.”
He slipped on his jacket, without doing up his cuff links, and slung his bag over his shoulder. Saffron followed him out of the office and stood awkwardly as he locked it.
“Goodnight,” he said with a brief smile.
“Goodnight,” she replied, forcing one of her own.
He disappeared down the stairwell, and Saffron wondered if he had someone to meet.
He had said he went out in the evenings sometimes, though it disgruntled her a bit to consider that he might be out with some beautiful woman who wouldn’t be buried shoulder-deep in botanical tomes and frantic revisions.
It was fine he wasn’t available for her investigation discussions, she forcefully thought as she went into her office to collect her things.
Even if the playing field of suspects had been significantly narrowed.
But that tantalizing thought would have to wait for the next twenty-four hours. She had a study proposal to revise.
The pub off Gower Street was smoky and noisy. Alexander’s shoes stuck to the floor as he crossed the crowded room to where some of the fellows from the university sat. He shook a few hands before being pushed into a chair.
“Guess that means the old man didn’t do it then,” one of the researchers was saying.
Alexander’s ears perked up. Were they talking about Dr. Maxwell?
“Can’t be him, if they’re letting him go,” Robinson said. He sipped his beer. “Can’t sail off if they think you tried to do your wife in.”
Dr. Henry, then.
“Nah, they arrested that old chap,” called someone from down the table. That was clearly in reference to Dr. Maxwell.
“Right!” Robinson nodded, nudging Alexander’s shoulder with his meaty elbow. “You’re stuck with botany. How do you like a new project coming up two weeks before we leave? Nice to have all that prep work for the murderer go out the window?”
“Don’t go jumping to conclusions.” Alexander shrugged. “It won’t be bad. The researcher in charge won’t give me too much to do.”
Robinson looked doubtful. “A whole study? With two weeks to prepare? Who’s in charge?”
“It’s Everleigh, Dr. Maxwell’s assistant,” Alexander said, waving off the serving girl who stood waiting.
“Everleigh?” Adams slid into the chair next to Alexander. “That fellow with the mustache?”
“Have you been under a rock, Adams?” Robinson nudged him, smirking. “Everleigh—you know, the girl taking notes at the meeting today.”
“Oh! That’s right, the gel with the eyes,” said Adams, taking a gulp of beer.
“Well, if she’s in charge, at least you won’t have much to do,” said a blond man with a crooked grin from across the table. “You won’t have to do half of what she says.”
Irritated, Alexander said, “I’m not going to put off responsibilities.”
Adams grinned, eyes darting to the other fellows around them. “Come off it, Ashton! She won’t know what she’s doing anyway. Just let it run its course, and you save yourself some work.”
Now truly annoyed, Alexander glared at him. “She does know what she’s doing—”
“Oh, does she?” Adams crowed, and a handful of the others laughed.
Fists clenched beneath the table, Alexander said coolly, “Yes, she does. That’s why she’s been given a study as an assistant. How many studies have you done, Adams?”
There was a chorus of laughter and taunts up and down the table. Adam’s ears turned red, and he busied himself with his drink.
Robinson wiped foam from his mouth thoughtfully. “She’s an assistant, though. How’d she manage to swing her own study? Decided to play nice with Berking after all, did she?”
The group laughed. Alexander didn’t. Ensuring he was speaking loudly enough to be heard down the table, Alexander said, “If that’s your first thought about a colleague advancing in their department, Robinson, I have concerns about how exactly you got your position.”
Robinson, to Alexander’s relief, let out a laugh. These men were his friends, his close colleagues for the next six months. He didn’t want to alienate them just before setting out, but he couldn’t stand to hear Saffron’s name sullied as the punch line in their drunken jokes.
Robinson nodded and waved a hand to settle down the laughter around them. “Quite right, quite right. Not even the most desperate of colleagues would submit to that cretin. Did you hear him making digs at Dr. Henry during the meeting?”
Alexander nodded, glad the subject of Saffron’s credibility was off the table.
“It’ll be fireworks on the journey over, you mark my words. Actually”—Robinson swatted at McAllister’s arm next to him—“mark my words, Mickey. Take down bets. Who says Henry and Berking will have it out before we reach S?o Luís? Two quid on Berking ending up chucked in the sea, I say.”
Amid more laughter, a few raised hands, and Mickey did indeed take names down on a bit of paper.
Adams, who appeared to have recovered his nerve, said, “My bet’s on Henry duking it out with Blake.”
Robinson scoffed. “Over what?”
Adams glanced around, suddenly unsure. “Well, I—er, you know, his wife …”
“Spit it out, man. I need to know if there’s another few quid waiting for me.”
Adams’s pale eyes darted to Alexander as if worried he’d get another tongue-lashing. “Well, I saw them, didn’t I? Mrs. Henry and Blake.”
Nerves on high alert, Alexander asked with forced calm, “When was that?”
“Just a few days before that party. My mum’s been ill so I went to visit her at lunch …
” His words dried up and his ears went red again at Robinson’s impatient eye roll.
“Anyway, I was coming back to the U when I saw them on the street, walking and having a grand old time. Her hand on his arm, smiling and talking. Looked cozy, that’s all. ”
Robinson stroked his chin. “That might be worth putting another bet on. You know Henry won’t stand for that, even if he chases after anything in a skirt.”
Alexander left a few hours later, the stink of smoke and beer clinging to his clothes.
He’d have to get his head on straight before the ship sailed.
They’d hassle him every day about having a drink, and he’d give in if he wasn’t careful.
He always regretted it when he did, when one led to another, and he found himself barely able to stand. Better not to even start.
The street was damp from an early evening shower, the brisk air blissful after the rowdy, close air of the pub.
He’d kept his ears peeled for any further mention of the investigation but heard no more than a handful of doubtful mutterings about Dr. Henry’s leadership.
Nothing particularly helpful. Adams seeing Blake with Mrs. Henry just gave more credence to Saffron’s theory they were lovers.
He usually enjoyed talking shop, even with his tipsy friends, but tonight it felt like a wasted evening, with Saffron and her impending meeting never far from his mind.
He’d have to try speaking to her again tomorrow, Alexander thought as he unlocked the door to his flat and stepped inside. Convince her to rethink accepting that meeting, even if it meant accidentally insulting her again.
He sighed, leaning his head back against his bedroom door.
Saffron was right. He didn’t understand why she would go to meet with the man who’d not only forced his attentions once, but whom they suspected was involved in the poisoning.
The other thing she’d said, him not understanding the struggle to simply be at the university …
well, he did understand that. Every day had been a struggle for him for years.
He shucked his shoes and smoke-ridden clothes and sat on his bedroom floor, already taking deep breaths to erase his worries from his mind. It would be a long time before he’d be able to sleep.
Saffron awoke early, her mind having buzzed all night with ideas for her research project.
The previous evening, Elizabeth had told Saffron to take Berking’s offer and put it somewhere unpleasant.
She’d agreed that Alexander was absolutely right about being wary of Berking’s intentions, but she was just as sure as Saffron that it was all but impossible to say no.
It didn’t comfort Saffron, but at least she felt understood.
To bolster her confidence that morning, Elizabeth gave Saffron her favorite lipstick and promised a gourmet supper before sending her friend out the door with a smacking kiss on the cheek.