“Yes, sir, biology.”
“Everleigh sent you, you said?”
Alexander nodded.
The caretaker studied him another moment before huffing and muttering, “Fine,” before slouching off.
Alexander carefully picked up the little plant with his handkerchief. It was a vine, with heart-shaped leaves. He recognized the noxious shade of yellow. He examined it until the man returned, wondering which part was the most dangerous. He had barely been able to look at the xolotl leaves when he found Saffron in the office, and had quickly disposed of them without any observation.
The caretaker returned and knelt next to him with a muffled groan. He dropped the vine into the man’s hands, which Alexander was grateful to see were now covered with gloves. With a brush and dustpan hanging from a nearby hook, Alexander swept up the rest of the spilled dirt.
The older man set the plant on the top of a worktable, then began shuffling things about beneath.
Eying the plant as he dumped the fallen dirt into a garden bed, Alexander said, “I’ve heard that plant is particularly poisonous.”
“Hm!” the caretaker grunted again. He straightened with a groan and set another pot on the table. “The blasted police want a sample of it. Then they’ve gone and asked me all about it. Who can get at it, if anyone’s been around askin’questionsabout it … not my job to know. I just have to keep ‘em alive.”
“Of course,” agreed Alexander, suddenly wanting to know the answers to those questions, too. Summoning the appropriate manner for a chat, he added, “They can’t expect you to keep up with what isn’t your responsibility.”
“Humph! Too right!” the caretaker said, huffing as he patted dirt into the pot. “Who bloody cares about those pointy, poisonous things? Plenty of nice green outside, things that actually flower or give fruit you can eat.”
“Indeed. But still, this place is full of odd people with odd interests. I have a colleague who studies the insides of horses. He goes on and on about what different kinds of grass do to their digestion,” Alexander said, feigning disgust. He didn’t enjoy hearing about horse excrement, but it was a sound way to get information about their intestinal flora. “I’m sure you’ve seen all sorts of bizarre things in here.”
The caretaker took the bait, giving Alexander a dark look. “Don’t get me started! Between Maxwell and Berking and the lot bringin’ back strange foreign cuttin’s and tellin’ me the dreadful things that happen to people who look at ’em funny, and random characters walkin’ in askin’ about this or that—enough to drive me to drink!”
The caretaker apparently didn’t consider him a random character. “This one, for example.” Alexander gestured to the little yellow vine in the caretaker’s gloved hands. “I’m sure it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”
“This thing …” The caretaker scoffed as he glared down at it. “Been very popular these days. Don’t know why. It’d been growin’ in the corner of Greenhouse Five for years, nobody payin’ it no mind. Then the past few weeks everyone suddenly wants it.”
That was very interesting. “Those botanists are mad for all plants, of course.”
“Aye, they’re an odd bunch, that. But they know not to mess about with it.” Alexander opened his mouth to ask who exactly had been asking about the plant, then, but the caretaker snapped his gloves onto the table and growled. “Now, I have to give the blasted thing to the blasted police. Don’t touch nothin’ in there, young man, unless you want to get pricked or cut or poisoned.” He made a long-suffering face and stumped off.
Mindful of the caretaker’s words, Alexander moved deeper into the humid greenhouse. Giant sheaves of green swayed in the warm, moist air as he passed by. The xolotl vine had been apopular plant recently. That wasn’t very helpful. Anyone could suggest a member of the botany department had sent them in, as Alexander had. It didn’t seem like the caretaker kept track of the members of the botany department visiting.
He paused next to an array of massive leaves segmented by many holes. Why exactly was he cataloguing helpful information about the poisoning investigation?
Shaking his head at himself because he knew exactly why he was thinking about it, Alexander took out his lengthy list of specimens the botany department wanted from the Amazon. Because he was in the greenhouse, he could practice identifying plant features.
Alexander searched among the endless green for anything matching the insufficient descriptors until his head grew fuzzy and frustrated. How could he find these plants in the vast, chaotic jungle if a mere roomful of unorganized potted ones flustered him? He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Then another. He forced himself to focus on nothing but taking deep pulls of the stifling, warm air.
“Alexander?”
He spun around, embarrassed to be caught deep breathing in the greenhouse. It was Saffron, looking timid in a lavender coat, with a matching hat covering her dark hair. She stood beneath a tree so tall it brushed the glass ceiling.
“Hello,” he said, attempting to sound nonchalant. He was still a bit unsure of their nascent friendship, especially after so abruptly leaving her flat the previous day. Was he angry with her? Was she with him? He didn’t feel angry on seeing her, not like he had when he’d had half a chance to consider the full short-sightedness of her experiment and his own foolishness in allowing it to move forward. “I was just practicing.”
“Practicing breathing?” She smiled at him, still a little uncertain.
He held up his notebook. “No, identifying plants. Apparently I’m no good as a botanist.”
She smiled more fully now and crossed the crowded, leafy room. “I happen to know a few things about plants. Perhaps I can help?”
“By all means,” Alexander said. “But if you came to work—”
“Oh no,” she said quickly. “I was going to speak with Mr. Winters, the caretaker. You haven’t seen him, have you?”
“You just missed him.” Alexander paused, wondering if it’d be churlish to keep back his whereabouts. “He was taking a sample of xolotl to the police.”
