A Botanist's Guide to Parties and Poisons (Saffron Everleigh Mystery #1)(9)

“Good morning, Everleigh,” he murmured, his voice gruffer than usual.

“Good morning, Professor,” she replied and began removing her gloves and hat. “Have you had a chance to look over the notes I left?”

“No, just wrote a few things before I forget them. I don’t suppose”—he raised his bushy eyebrows at her—“you’ve seen the police poking about?”

“No, I haven’t,” Saffron replied. “Though I suppose they would come here to question the guests from the party.”

“I gather you’ve heard about Dr. Henry’s wife.”

“I heard it wasn’t an allergy after all. Alexander Ashton told me.”

Dr. Maxwell frowned. “Everleigh—”

A sharp knock at the door interrupted him. Maxwell stood up with a grunt, but Saffron was there quicker.

There were two men at the door, a middle-aged man of perhaps forty and a younger man in a navy policeman’s uniform, who couldn’t be much older than Saffron. The older man was as bland and somber as his dark Hamburg hat. The uniformed officer, with wide blue eyes and blond hair peeking out from under his domed custodian helmet, looked as though he were play-acting at being a police officer.

“Detective Inspector Green, Criminal Investigation Department,” the older man said. “This is Sergeant Simpson.” He gestured back to the young man. “Is Dr. Alan Maxwell available?”

From behind his desk, Maxwell’s face went slightly pale beneath his snowy beard. Saffron stepped aside for the policemen to enter. Maxwell’s hand trembled as he offered it to Inspector Green. “Inspector, this is Miss Saffron Everleigh, my assistant.”

The inspector nodded to Saffron. Sergeant Simpson remained by the door and took out a notebook and pencil.

Inspector Green turned to the professor. “Dr. Maxwell, we are here to follow up on our questions from yesterday regarding the poisoning of Mrs. Cynthia Henry.”

Maxwell glanced at her. “Perhaps we should excuse Miss Everleigh?”

The inspector’s impassive brown eyes flicked to her. “Miss Everleigh, were you also in attendance at the party at the Leister residence?”

“Yes, I was,” she said, determined not to be intimidated by the inspector’s cool manner.

“If you wouldn’t mind stepping out for a few minutes while we speak with Dr. Maxwell, Simpson will retrieve you when we are ready to speak with you.”

Unsettled, Saffron went into the hall.

She paced the cool tiled steps of the stairwell, paying no mind the students passing by. Her mind was occupied once more with Mrs. Henry and the fact that Saffron had also drunk the champagne passed around at the party. It could have been her on the floor, rather than Mrs. Henry, if the poisoner had mixed up the glasses or bottles. She shuddered. She’d possibly spoken with the person responsible, sat next to them at the dinner table—a table that had been full of her colleagues. Did that mean the poisoner was at the university now?

She flinched when the voice of the younger police officer calling her name interrupted her morbid train of thought. She hastened back to the office, where Dr. Maxwell stood anxiously at the door. As Saffron approached, he offered to stay with her.

“Thank you, Professor, but I’ll be all right.” She patted his arm and smiled reassuringly.

The inspector took Dr. Maxwell’s desk, Saffron sat in the chair before him, and Simpson did his best to be unobtrusive by the door. His hands were shaking slightly, which Saffron diagnosed as either a lack of breakfast or an abundance of nerves.

After recording her full name and address, the inspector began. “Miss Everleigh, what is your role here at the university?”

Saffron drew herself up and said, “I assist the professor in his research. I am also a botanist.”

“You were at the party Saturday evening, but your name was not on the guest list Sir Edward provided.”

“The invitation was extended to the whole botany department at the last minute, on Thursday,” Saffron said. That was the reason why Dr. Maxwell had cut his family visit short, so he could attend. She’d have expected him to grumble more about it, actually.

Inspector Green asked, “When did you arrive?”

Saffron described the various events of the evening, the inspector pausing here and there to ask a clarifying question. “You say you excused yourself from the party just after the men entered the drawing room, and remained out of the room until the toast. That would have been about twenty minutes. What were you doing?”

Resenting the embarrassment she felt at admitting it, she said, “I was seeing to my personal needs. And then I ran into Alexander Ashton, and we had a conversation in the hallway.”

“I see. What were you talking about?”

“Well, we …” There was no point in dancing around the fact that she’d eavesdropped, especially since it was probably important to the investigation. Not to mention he’d likely already heard of it from Mr. Ashton. “We accidentally overheard Mrs. Henry and Lady Agatha, actually.”

Saffron briefly described the conversation between Lady Agatha and Mrs. Henry. She finished by explaining how she had been quite close to Mrs. Henry when she fell. The inspector didn’t respond immediately. Saffron glanced over at Simpson, who was watching Inspector Green avidly as the inspector wrote his own notes.