“I’ve seen a few,” Nick said, dodging around her to open the door to the greenhouses for her. “None to rival this, however!”
It was rather impressive, especially in the dying light, to see the mass of leaves upon entering Greenhouse One. With deepening shadows sharpening the diverse shapes, the exotic plants seemed multiplied and alien.
He reached up to brush a fanning leaf out of his way as they ventured inside. “I’m used to rows upon rows of seedlings, numbered and carefully measured. And fertilizer. And manure! I suppose Elizabeth is not here to complain. So much manure, Saffron, I cannot even begin to say.”
Saffron laughed. “We’ve our fair share of manure, though I rarely have to cope with it these days. They have the students assist with things like that.”
“And you’re a researcher,” he said. “Recently promoted. Very impressive indeed.”
“You are very kind.”
“I am not, I assure you.” He shot her a devious look. “Don’t think I haven’t lured you here under false pretenses. My boss is always saying I lack initiative. I’m plotting to convince you to reveal all your secrets so I might claim them for my own.”
“Ah, yes,” she said dryly, “the great secrets of seedlings and fertilizers.”
“You say it as if that is not our bread and butter,” he said with mocking severity. “Though truthfully, these days I suppose fungi is mine. Don’t suppose you have any molds hanging around?”
“There are fungi everywhere,” Saffron said, considering. “They’re in the soil, their spores are floating in the air.”
“And, unfortunately, they can cause quite a bit of trouble.”
She led them toward the door to the second greenhouse. “Indeed. That’s why you’re heading up the northern line later this week.”
“Indeed,” he said. “I’ll be visiting a research station while I do, come to think of it. I’ll be able to compare your greenhouses to theirs and see who reigns supreme.”
Saffron rolled her eyes at his dramatics. “I will wait with bated breath.” She turned back to him, hand paused on the door’s latch. “Nick, where exactly are you going?”
His cheeks were flushed, likely from the heat of the greenhouse. “Little place called Harpenden. Can’t imagine you’ve heard of it.”
“Actually,” she said slowly, “I have.”
“Ah, now this is more like it,” Nick proclaimed, rubbing his hands together as they passed into the next greenhouse. “Rows and rows of little nothings ready to become somethings.”
Saffron glanced at the lengths of workbenches covered with pots. “I didn’t realize the research station in Harpenden studied fungi,” she said casually. He hadn’t replied to her earlier bait, being too overawed upon entering the room. She hadn’t been lying earlier; fungi could, indeed, be very troublesome, to plants and people alike. If Petrov hadbeen working with fungi, some strain could have done him in, and that should be easy enough to determine if the coroner knew what to look for.
“Fungi is just the start of it,” Nick said. “Anything to do with growing plants is their domain up in Harpenden. Rather like you lot.” He leaned over Dr. Miller’s beet seedlings.
Saffron bit her lip. So much for that. “What sort of people do they have there? I imagine it’s all old fogies in places like that.”
He chuckled, moving on to another series of pots. “Bit like here, they have all sorts. Young, old, locals, foreigners. Harpenden has a number of women working there too.”
“Foreigners,” Saffron repeated, though she was curious about his last comment. “Where from?”
Nick meandered over to where she stood. “Forgive me, I should say they had one. One was an old fellow, recently snuffed it.”
“Oh,” Saffron said, feigning surprised sadness. That was no doubt Demian Petrov. How could she guide the conversation where she needed it to go?
Nick crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned toward her, his voice low but clear. “There’s a bit of a mystery clouding the old man’s death. Intrigue, you know. I daresay that must appeal to you, eh?”
Saffron laughed nervously, excitement coursing through her. “You’ve my attention, Nick.”
“Well,” he intoned dramatically, “the fellow died rather suddenly. On a train, here, in town.”
“Oh, my,” she breathed, keeping her eyes wide and bright with curiosity. “Whatever happened?”
“They don’t know. But the old man was a White. Fled the Bolsheviks and sought shelter here right as the revolution was heating up. His work in exchange for safe haven, or at least, that’s what I’m guessing from his employment records. The whole thing sounds fishy, doesn’t it?”
Saffron opened her mouth to agree that it did seem fishy, but if Nick was going to visit Harpenden, perhaps speak to the other scientists there, she didn’t want to encourage his belief that something wasgoing on in the laboratory. Stoking the fire of suspicion likely wouldn’t do Inspector Green any favors in discovering the truth of what had happened to Demian Petrov.
