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 couldI 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.”
