“No, but the expedition was planned in just a few months, wasn’t it?” She smiled indulgently. “I’m sure you were thrilled when you learned of it.”
Alexander gave her a brief smile. “Of course.” He wracked his brain for an elegant way to ask his next question, but he came up blank. “I suppose you only let her into Mr. Blake’s office once. She wasn’t as forgetful as I was.” He forced an awkward laugh. How on Earth did Saffron find charming information out of people so easy?
“Just the once. I remember because she cancelled their next appointment the very next day. It was memorable, you see, because she actually requested a meeting with the College Committee instead. It isn’t often that the wife of a faculty member wants to meet with the Committee.”
Alexander swallowed his excitement. This was what Saffron had told him in a rush the day before, that Mrs. Henry could have been out to sabotage her husband’s chances of creating his own department. “And did she mention what the meeting was to be about?”
“Well, yes. They won’t let me just put anyone down on their schedule,” the receptionist said. “It was about the funding for the expedition.”
Saffron found that six o’clock came upon her surprisingly quickly. She smoothed her navy-blue skirt, reapplied Elizabeth’s lucky lipstick, and collected her papers, then went up to Dr. Berking’s office. Pierce admitted her to the large office and said that Dr. Berking had not yet finished his last appointment but would return presently.
Heart pounding, Saffron sat in the chair before the desk at first, then, nerves getting to her again, walked around the room. The light had faded from the windows, and the street below was filled with a steady stream of students. Their energetic chatter seemed miles away from where she looked down on them from the window.
After five minutes passed, curiosity got the better of her, and Saffron wandered to Berking’s desk to casually try the drawers. They were still locked except for the top one that contained his checkbook. The drawer slid open easily this time. He must have retrieved the paper that had been jammed, the one with the formula on it. She picked up the checkbook and flipped through it again, noting that he’d written another check to R. Glass since the one he’d written when she had broken into the office. It was for a large sum; together both checks totaled five hundred pounds, which was rather a lot for a bet.
At a sound from the outer office, she shoved the book back into the drawer and closed it, clearing the edge of the desk just as the door swung open and Dr. Berking’s belly came through the entrance. She gripped her hands together tightly, hoping Berking didn’t notice her rapid breathing.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said loudly. “Have you prepared your proposal? Let’s get right to business.”
To Saffron’s great surprise, Dr. Berking went straight to his desk and began reading her proposal. He asked a few questions, without a hint of flirtation or menace, and she answered them best she could. By the time the clock struck quarter ’til seven, he closed her file and set down his pen.
“Well, Miss Everleigh, this has vastly improved. I’m inclined to approve this project. However,” he said, standing, “we have a few points we must clarify.”
Leaving her in suspense, he lumbered across the room to the door. Saffron, not looking at him, heard an ominous click as the door locked. Her palms began to sweat. “Sir, I don’t …” she stammered as he came back toward the desk.
“No need to be jumpy, just business.” His expression was rather devoid of feeling, which was more alarming to Saffron than his unpleasant grin. He stopped beside his desk and remained standing. “This business of Dr. Henry and his wife, it’s been very disturbing to the university and all those involved. Dreadful, dreadful.” He shook his head and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a pipe. “I am aware that you’ve been poking around, asking questions and making inquiries. Quite natural, I say. Dr. Maxwell is your mentor, your friend for years now.” Dr. Berking filled the pipe, looking thoughtfully at it as he patted the tobacco into the bowl. “Unfortunate, of course.”
Saffron was rather at a loss. She just looked at him as he lumbered back around opposite her and sat heavily in his chairagain. He lit the pipe and took a long puff. The smoke escaped his lips in a hiss as he continued. “I also know that you’ve been in this office.” From his pocket he pulled out two hairpins.
Saffron stared at them, then looked to Berking. He had a hard glint in his eye. They were just hairpins, she reasoned. There was no proof they were hers. “Sir, I didn’t—”
“No need to lie, Miss Everleigh. You’ve been snooping around, no doubt in an effort to clear your beloved Dr. Maxwell.” His voice turned falsely downcast, as if he were telling a sad story to a child. “Through my own work with the police, we’ve determined his guilt. Old Maxwell used the xolotl vine to try to kill Dr. Henry, but instead got his wife by mistake. They’ve arrested him. The inspector telephoned me just this afternoon to thank me for assisting him.”
Saffron’s mind scrambled to make sense of his blatant lies.
He sighed melodramatically and continued with another puff of bitter smoke. “It’s tragic to see what old age can do to a person. Poor Maxwell was so distraught over his rejection from the expedition team that he tried to poison a man. Such an unfortunate episode. Surely, Miss Everleigh, you’ve seen the signs also, that he was losing his grip on reality. Irrational thoughts perhaps, or strange moods.”
“What are you saying?” Saffron asked, her heart pounding now.
“I’m just expressing my support of you, my dear, as you try to help the police close the case. Whatever you need”—his eyebrows rose—“to feel comfortable to go to the inspector to tell him your side of the story. You have a great opportunity for your pigmentation study, and surely you can’t carry it out with this great weight of information on your shoulders. You’re as close to Maxwell as anyone, and the police would find your story most compelling. A young woman being terrorized by her advisor, a family friend. Highly sympathetic.”
Saffron stood, her face pink and her fists clenched. “You’re the only one terrorizing me, Dr. Berking,” she said, her voice shaking. “How dare you try to use me against Dr. Maxwell?”
Dr. Berking set his pipe down and lumbered to his feet. As he stepped slowly toward her, his voice was calm and quiet, almost hypnotic. “Miss Everleigh, I’m not using youagainstthe man, I just want to make sure that a madman is put away so our university community can rest easy again. Of course, if you find loyalty to Dr. Maxwell, amurderer, more important than the safety of your colleagues, I’m sure you can’t be trusted to remain in the employ of the university. Furthermore,” he said, taking another slow step toward her, “I hate to say it, my dear, but the inspector had several questions about your relationship to Dr. Maxwell and your own state of mind. After our appalling altercation last month, when you most unfairly assaulted me—”
“I assaultedyou?” She took a step away from him, her eyes on his slow advance around the desk and across the carpet.
“A most unfortunate choice you made to attack me rather than agree to work with me.” His small eyes were slits. “I’m sure not a choice you’d want to repeat again.” He lunged forward, his large pink hand clutching at her arm, drawing her closer. “Now, Miss Everleigh …”
Her breath was frozen in her lungs, and she couldn’t breathe, let alone cry for help. Berking forced her back into her chair and put a piece of paper in front of her. He placed a pen in her hand and transferred his oppressive grip to her shoulder. “You will write of the unfortunate unraveling of Dr. Maxwell, and then we can go about our business. Your study will move forward, and I don’t have to tell the inspector about your own complicity with Dr. Maxwell’s plans to kill not only Dr. Henry, but me. No doubt you both plotted against me after I rejected your last proposal. Dr. Maxwell was even overheard threatening me.”
Hand shaking, wondering how she could possibly get out of this mess, Saffron began to write.
At seven o’clock, Alexander yet again opened his office door and glanced down the empty hall. He’d been pacing his office for forty-five minutes, trying to piece together how Mrs. Henry’s meeting with the College Committee fit into everything else.
Saffron must be nearly done with her meeting. Perhaps it hadn’t gone well, and she didn’t want to speak with him. Regardless of the outcome of her meeting, she would want to know what he had discovered about Mrs. Henry’s meeting with the College Committee and her getting into Blake’s office. He walked slowly down the deserted hallway and tapped at the dark door of Maxwell’s office. Nothing. He returned to his office.
Half an hour later, after failing to distract himself by reading a chapter on caladiums that Saffron had included in her study design, Alexander roved around his office once more. She should be back by now, protesting or celebrating the results of the meeting. If he was right about Berking’s intentions, she would no doubt be embarrassed, possibly very angry. Or worse. It was a mistake not to push for her to at least postpone the meeting to a time when the North Wing was crowded rather than deserted. What good was he doing her down here?
