* * *
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.”
Adams grinned, eyes darting to the other fellows around them. “Come off it, Ashton! She won’t know what she’s doing anyway. Just let it run its course, and you save yourself some work.”
Now truly annoyed, Alexander glared at him. “She does know what she’s doing—”
“Oh, does she?” Adams crowed, and a handful of the others laughed.
Fists clenched beneath the table, Alexander said coolly, “Yes, she does. That’s why she’s been given a study as an assistant. How many studies have you done, Adams?”
There was a chorus of laughter and taunts up and down the table. Adam’s ears turned red, and he busied himself with his drink.
Robinson wiped foam from his mouth thoughtfully. “She’s an assistant, though. How’d she manage to swing her own study? Decided to play nice with Berking after all, did she?”
The group laughed. Alexander didn’t. Ensuring he was speaking loudly enough to be heard down the table, Alexander said, “If that’s your first thought about a colleague advancing in their department, Robinson, I have concerns about how exactly you got your position.”
Robinson, to Alexander’s relief, let out a laugh. These men were his friends, his close colleagues for the next six months. He didn’t want to alienate them just before setting out, but he couldn’t stand to hear Saffron’s name sullied as the punch line in their drunken jokes.
Robinson nodded and waved a hand to settle down the laughter around them. “Quite right, quite right. Not even the most desperate of colleagues would submit to that cretin. Did you hear him making digs at Dr. Henry during the meeting?”
Alexander nodded, glad the subject of Saffron’s credibility was off the table.
“It’ll be fireworks on the journey over, you mark my words. Actually”—Robinson swatted at McAllister’s arm next to him—“mark my words, Mickey. Take down bets. Who says Henry and Berking will have it out before we reach S?o Luís? Two quid on Berking ending up chucked in the sea, I say.”
Amid more laughter, a few raised hands, and Mickey did indeed take names down on a bit of paper.
Adams, who appeared to have recovered his nerve, said, “My bet’s on Henry duking it out with Blake.”
Robinson scoffed. “Over what?”
Adams glanced around, suddenly unsure. “Well, I—er, you know, his wife …”
“Spit it out, man. I need to know if there’s another few quid waiting for me.”
Adams’s pale eyes darted to Alexander as if worried he’d get another tongue-lashing. “Well, I saw them, didn’t I? Mrs. Henry and Blake.”