“Have you searched Wells’s house?” she asked Nick. “Apart from when we visited, I mean. The others mentioned the house was a wreck. It was messy when we went there, but certainly nothing out of the ordinary for an ill bachelor.”
One of Nick’s brows shot up. “Do the others know that Joseph Rowe was caught with papers?”
So, he was avoiding the question. What did that signify? “I don’t think so.”
“Good. I can make it seem unrelated. Don’t want to spook them with a suggestion that the papers might be linked to the death.” Nick sighed, running a hand over his jaw. “Did you find out about theMucor indicus?”
“I haven’t yet,” Saffron said, adding dryly, “We’ve had rather an eventful morning here. I take that to mean that you confirmed that our identification was correct?”
“A severe infection would cause the sort of necrosis we saw in his wound. The coroner did seem puzzled by the severity of his, ah”—he lifted his brows—“gastrointestinal symptoms, however. A cutaneous infection doesn’t generally cause that level of disruption, apparently.”
That was a delicate way of saying that Wells ought not to have been relieved of all but his intestines from an infected cut. “Will they continue looking for an explanation?” she asked.
“They will. Ask about the fungus today, and if you find out the mycologists are working with it, get me word. I’ll be here all day.” During the pause that followed, his gaze turned unreadable. “How are things?”
Saffron blinked. “Things are fine.”
“Going back and forth between here and London isn’t too much?”
She hadn’t thought much about it. “I don’t care for it, but it’s not a burden.”
“Must be hard, not working alongside your beau.”
Ignoring his mischievous grin, she replied, “I do enjoy sharing the North Wing with Alexander, but the place is a hotbed for gossip. As soon as word gets ’round that we’re seeing each other …” She sighed, just realizing it herself. The chin-wagging would be endless.
“Good to know,” Nick said. He propped an elbow on the desk and gave her a perfunctory smile. “Well, off you go. We can catch the train back to town together if you like.”
Saffron gave him an indifferent reply, unsure if she wanted to invite more time with Nick, and returned to the lab.
CHAPTER30
Saffron hadn’t intended on screaming when the hand landed on her shoulder, but the walk to the train station that evening had been dark and lonely—her own fault, for avoiding Nick—and with what she’d learned about the goings-on at the lab, fear had curdled in her stomach. She was prepared for the worst up until she’d reached Harpenden’s brightly lit high street, when she relaxed just enough to be scared out of her wits when a hand fell on her shoulder.
Her alarmed screech broke off the moment she wheeled around and saw Elizabeth flattening her hat over her ears.
Glaring, Elizabeth ground out, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Saffron!”
“You snuck up on me!” Saffron shot back, face flaming as she realized half the street was staring at her. She hurriedly took Elizabeth’s arm and continued toward the station. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, hello to you too!” Elizabeth huffed.
Saffron narrowed her eyes at her friend. She was flushed, and her lipstick was nearly gone. “What have you been doing?”
“Been down the pub.” Elizabeth winked. “Where I’ve had several very interesting conversations I’ll tell you all about on the train. Let’s get a move on, we have places to be!”
Elizabeth was keen to tell Saffron about all the things she’d discovered in the Dancing Sparrow. She was clearly quite proud of herself for taking the initiative to go to the pub from which Jeffery Wells had collected so many receipts, and frankly, Saffron was impressed,not only that she’d recalled that negligible detail from Saffron’s description of Jeffery Wells’s house, but that she’d managed to learn so much.
Jeffery Wells, according to Elizabeth’s report, was often to be found drinking ale in the evenings at the public house. Most nights, he’d chat with the locals. But the barkeep, whom Elizabeth described as “magnificently authentic” to the “rustic setting” of the Dancing Sparrow, remembered that on several occasions, Wells would scoff at the local beer and order hard liquor, but only when his friend from London came to town. They’d share a few drinks and talk, and those talks were not always friendly.
“And you’ll never guess who Wells was getting so cozy with,” Elizabeth whispered, eyes widened dramatically. “Do you remember those few months I was stepping out with Sammy Lambert last year?”
Saffron could scarce forget; Sammy had been one of Elizabeth’s less worthy suitors. She’d been rather relieved when Elizabeth had broken off with him. “Don’t say Wells was meeting up with Sammy!”
“No, it wasn’t him. Sammy took me to a cabaret a few times, the one down on Fentiman Road. The dancing was just average, but the place was always packed, and I could never understand why until one evening Sammy got bored and decided we ought to go gambling instead. I told him I didn’t want to pay to be dragged all over London so he could have a good time—you know he never took the bill for anything—and he said the gaming was to be found there at the cabaret. And then I asked him—”
Saffron withheld a sigh. She knew Elizabeth would get to the point eventually.
“—if they took bets on how many beads would fall off the dancers’ bodices with all the shimmying they were doing!” She snorted. “Then he took me to the back room of the cabaret. It was a proper gaming hall in miniature, all shoved into some room off the main floor. I was quite disappointed we didn’t need a password or something like they do at those little drinking holes in America.”
