“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 you against the 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, a murderer, 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 assaulted you?” 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?