Saffron placed both hands on his crossed arms, leaning her weight gently on him. “Please, Alexander. Dr. Henry’s office provided such important information; surely Berking’s would do the same. I need your help.” She bit her lip, adding, “You’re the only person I can ask. You’re the only person I can trust here.”
If he thought Saffron would actually drop this idea if he refused to help her, he would. But he doubted it. Better he help keep her out of trouble instead, especially where Berking was concerned. “Of course I’ll help you.”
“Oh, thank you!” Saffron smiled and leapt into his arms. “I knew I could rely on you!”
There was a brief moment where Alexander considered not letting her go, but he somewhat grudgingly released her waist, where his hands had automatically gone. He gave her a stern look. “You can’t use your wiles for your investigation.”
“Well, it’s worked twice today, so you certainly can’t say that I can’t do it,” Saffron replied briskly, those blue-gray eyes alight with amusement. “If you don’t like it, Alexander, don’t be so easily manipulated.”
He was allowing himself to be manipulated. It would be disappointing to find it was all for her misguided investigation, he realized. He sighed. “Fine.”
“You’ll do it?” Saffron’s whole face lit up with a delighted smile.
“Yes,” he replied, frowning with extra annoyance to counteract the effect of her smile on him. “But if we’re caught, I’m going to say you threatened me and forced me to help you.”
Saffron’s eyes widened, scandalized. “You wouldn’t! What am I meant to have threatened you with?”
“Your copious poisonous plants, clearly.”
The arch of her brows gave her a haughty expression to match her words. “It’s your job to make sure we don’t get caught, so unless you want to sully my name and yours, you’ll do a proper job.”
He shook his head again, and she told him the plan. She was mad, no doubt about it, but he was finding it increasingly hard to be upset about it.
CHAPTER 14
The hallway was silent as Saffron removed a pin from her hair and inserted it into the lock on Dr. Berking’s door. She had never picked a lock before but was familiar with the process from a very loquacious man she’d met at one of Elizabeth’s more daring literary circles a few months ago. He had been a poet by name but had bragged about all the other skills he had. Luckily, they had been skills like lockpicking.
Smiling to herself as she thought back to the drunken man, she heard his slurred voice in her head talking about sliding the pin in and moving it until one felt it move sideways. Then, it was about catching all the pins with the second hairpin. Saffron struggled for five minutes before she caught any of the pins, but eventually got it. She pushed the door open and popped her head around into the stairwell where she’d stationed Alexander to listen for approaching footsteps.
“Got it!” she whispered with a grin, then ducked back around.
It was well past eight o’clock now, and Saffron knew all the other professors on the floor had cleared out, either to go home or to go to a gathering to which Saffron had declined Maxwell’s invitation a week ago.
Saffron stole across Mr. Pierce’s little office, casting a glance at the assistant’s desk and chair, and into Dr. Berking’s office.
She paused on the threshold. The meager glow of the streetlights below the window created a haze of golden light that barely illumined the room. It was eerie, to be sure, but the sudden pounding of Saffron’s heart and dampness of her palms had little to do with the shadows cast by the multitude of plants, a mere glance into Berking’s extensive personal collection, on the office’s walls.
She crept forward, her feet padding across the thick carpet to Dr. Berking’s desk. All Saffron could think of was Berking’s horrible smile, his slimy voice. She could almost feel his wandering hands and the feel of his breath on her face, her neck. She shuddered. That was precisely why Saffron was in his office now, despite her fear of what had happened and what had almost happened. Berking was a horrible man who it was very easy to believe would be part of a crime. It was not as if she wanted him to be guilty. Certainly not.
After a moment of debating the risk of turning on the desk lamp, Saffron clicked on the small green lamp at the corner of the desk. No one would find it strange to see a light on in the North Wing; people worked late all the time. The expanse of polished wood was tidy and almost bare. She read through the messages in the letter tray next to the lamp, hoping to recognize handwriting or names. There were only two notes, one from Dr. Aster about the budget for the coming academic year, and a note from someone called R. Glass, reminding Berking to bring a sample to their meeting.