“Er, yes,” she said, accepting the premise immediately. Maxwell certainly felt like family anyway. “I’m his niece. Could I please see him? You see, he has a rather weak heart, and I’m terribly concerned for him.” She didn’t have to try to look anxious.
He called to another sergeant, who led her through a set of doors and into a large room full of desks. The air was faintly musty and heavy, despite constant activity. Echoing voices, shouts, telephones ringing, and the sound of shuffling of papers thickened the atmosphere. Saffron followed the sergeant past the cluttered clusters of desks and down a short corridor. Everywhere she looked was gray and crowded. The sergeant opened a door into a little room, and she blinked hard at the image of her mentor inside.
Dr. Maxwell sat at a small, scuffed table, his white hair less fluffy than usual. His face was grim and pale. He looked up as they entered and jumped to his feet as fast as his arthritis would allow.
“Uncle!” She stepped forward and gave him a wide-eyed look of warning.
“My dear,” he croaked, glancing worriedly between her and the sergeant. “Whatever are you doing here?”
“I had to see you! Mother has been so worried since you haven’t telephoned her.” She sat across from him as he sank back into his chair, wondering how she could possibly communicate all she needed to. “It seems your little … ah, bird, has been causing mischief.”
Maxwell blinked at her and tapped his ear as if worried he hadn’t heard her correctly. “My bird?”
“Er, yes,” Saffron said slowly, leaning over the table. “Your bird, you know, the one you brought back from Mexico. With such lovely bright yellow feathers. He loves to climb things.”
“Y-yes,” Maxwell said with a furrowed brow. His eyes opened wide and he nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, of course! My bird!”
Relieved, Saffron nodded. “Your bird is being blamed for all kinds of trouble, unfortunately. But, you see, I can’t do anything about it because your research … ah, your ornithology reference books are gone.”
Maxwell held her gaze for a long moment as he thought. “Yes, you’re right,” he said slowly. “Someone did take my reference books, didn’t they?”
“I’m afraid your neighbor”—Saffron hesitated, looking to see how attentive the sergeant at the door was—“er, Mr. Green, has all the rest of your guidebooks. Clearly word has spread about what a unique bird he is.”
The sergeant sneezed and they jumped. Maxwell rubbed a hand over his brow and shook his head. “They say my bird is dangerous, Saffron, and there is no evidence to the contrary. I never saw the effects of the … bird firsthand. Even with my books and reports, there would be no way to prove my bird isn’t responsible.”
Saffron drew herself up slightly at the defeated tone in his voice. “I also came to tell you that although Mother doesn’t think she can cope with the bird if he returns, I said that I would try to track him down myself.” Saffron wasn’t sure that the professor would understand her bizarre stretch of the metaphor, but she gave him a determined smile that would let him know that she wasn’t convinced of his guilt and would work to free him.
The sergeant had wandered back into the hall a few steps, obviously very bored by their bird conversation. Saffron inched closer to Maxwell and whispered, “What on earth happened, Professor? Why are you here?”
Maxwell’s voice shook as he replied, “This arrest is all a misunderstanding.”
All the blood drained from Saffron’s head, making her woozy. “You’ve actually been arrested?” she choked out.
Maxwell gripped her hand. “It will all get cleared up soon. Just a misunderstanding between Dr. Henry and me. He must have taken my words to heart. Please, Saffron, you must stay out of this. For heaven’s sake”—his voice dropped even lower—“your father wouldn’t have wanted you in the middle of a police investigation.”
Trying to keep desperation out of her voice, she whispered quickly, “Professor, where are your notes from your paper on the xolotl vine? The police can’t have found all of them. If I could just look them over, I could prove—”
He cut her off at the sight of the sergeant walking back to them. “Please, please let it be. I will be all right—it’ll all get sorted. But please,” he spoke in a hoarse whisper as the sergeant wandered back into earshot, “leave that wretched bird alone!”
* * *