“It’s a bit late,” Alexander said, glancing at his wristwatch as if the time was of interest. “I actually managed to get some work done today, so I was just going to go have some dinner. Would you like to join me?”
“For dinner? Yes, thank you.”
He didn’t miss the flush on her cheeks, nor the smile on her face.
CHAPTER 11
The cool evening air was bracing after the overwhelming warmth of the greenhouse. Saffron was glad she had kept her coat on rather than leaving it in the office when she had arrived earlier.
She’d gone to the university after Inspector Green’s visit, not to work, but to get some answers. She had proof, at least proof enough for her, that the xolotl vine was not the cause of the poisoning. Her first task was to speak to Mr. Winters to get support in her theory that someone was using xolotl to frame Maxwell before going to Inspector Green, but had instead found Alexander. She hoped they could be friendly again. Working together meant they’d see each other every day. A good working relationship was important. And if something more came about … Well, Saffron wouldn’t mind at all.
Dusk faded into evening as they walked, quiet but for the automobiles and buses trundling by and snatches of overheard conversations from open doorways and windows.
They settled into a casual place for students Saffron had visited a number of times. Alexander and Saffron ordered pasta, and the waiter inquired whether they wanted wine.
“None for me,” Alexander said.
Saffron shook her head. “Nor me, thank you.”
The waiter vanished. Remembering the party and the full glass of scotch Alexander had tried to get rid of, Saffron said lightly, “I thought all hearty explorers scoffed at temperance.”
He shifted in his seat, eyes on his glass of water. “I avoid alcohol altogether whenever possible.”
Saffron’s mind jumped to her uncle, who had died after a night of heavy drinking when he returned from his deployment. Curiosity getting the better of her propriety, she asked, “After the War?”
His dark eyes stayed on his water glass. “People have different ways of coping with whatever burdens they came back with. Alcohol is common enough.”
Saffron was glad he wasn’t looking at her, as he surely would have seen the surprise on her face. She had never heard anyone speak about lingering effects apart from in very general and impersonal terms, not even her family when her uncle died. Most found it too embarrassing or too risky. It was difficult to maintain employment and relationships if people thought one was shell-shocked.
At once, she was terribly curious about the man across from her. What burdens had he borne, or might he still bear? It was clear he must have been injured, given the extensive scarring on his arm. Mindful of not wanting to come off as either pitying or nosy, she asked, “What would be your method of coping? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Alexander’s lips lifted into an enigmatic smile. “A few years ago I learned how to meditate from a professor who studied in Tibet. He taught me a breathing technique I find effective. It’s about controlling your breathing, your thoughts. Alcohol does the opposite.”
His expression was neutral, and Saffron couldn’t tell if he was serious. It all sounded rather outlandish. He began on another topic before she could confirm it.
The meal was spent in conversation about work. Saffron knew relatively little about bacteria, and when Alexander protested that it was not considered polite dinner conversation, she reminded him that he’d already brought up warty eruptions. The surprise of his full, deep laugh made her feel filled with electricity again.
Night had fully fallen when they departed the restaurant. The orange-tinted street lights illuminating white blossoms on trees created the impression of tangerine clouds hovering near the lampposts. As they walked in the direction of Hyde Park, their conversation returned to Mrs. Henry’s poisoning.
“The problem is that Dr. Maxwell does seem to have a credible motive,” Saffron explained. “According to Harry Snyder, he was very upset about not being allowed to go on the expedition.”
“This expedition seems to be getting less and less popular the more I hear of it,” Alexander said with a sigh.
“What do you mean?” Saffron asked.
“Dr. Henry was very … forthcoming, about some issues regarding the expedition. He tends to speak freely when imbibing, and at the party, he told me quite a bit about his debates with Dr. Berking about his inclusion on the team. Apparently, Henry has a problem when he’s the victim of strong-arming rather than the perpetrator.”