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“I don’t know. I cannot see it happening because Browning is usually abroad. He travels extensively, and brings back rare and unusual plants for a living. The university used to buy some of his finds off him but, unfortunately, he started to get greedy.”
“Is this orchid valuable?”
“It is to the right people,” Archie replied bluntly. He placed his spectacles a little too carefully on the desk before him. “There is a really good trade for adventurers who travel to far-off destinations in search of rare species. They usually send their finds home, and sell them to places like universities, or keep them for scientific experiments, or personal gain. However, there are also a few private collectors who will pay whatever it takes to get the best, and the rarest, plants available. Unfortunately, something as rare as this Caelestia Perfectionis would be extremely valuable.” He speared Beatrice with a pointed look. “Can you tell me how you happened to come across it?”
Beatrice explained how it had come to be left on her doorstep, without telling him about the finding the body at the end of the garden. “What does Jules Sanders look like?”
Archie studied her and appeared to be a little nonplussed for a minute, but gave her the information she needed. However, he described a completely different man to the corpse found at the end of Beatrice’s garden. Richard Browning was described as tall, lithe, and a little arrogant; with piercing blue eyes and a perpetual frown. Bernard Murray was a squat little man with an ample girth; testament to the many hours he spent seated behind his desk, working on his papers.
“Is Brian Mottram about five feet six inches, or so, with steely grey hair and say, in his mid-fifties?” Ben asked and felt his stomach sink when Archie nodded.
Beatrice stared at Archie’s white beard as his head bobbed up and down, and studied the slightly darker hair on the top of his head for a moment while silence settled over them. When it became evident that Archie was waiting for an explanation, she glanced cautiously at Ben.
“I am afraid to tell you that Brian Mottram has died,” Beatrice told Archie quietly. “He delivered the plant to me before he passed away.”
For some reason she couldn’t understand right away, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that Brian Mottram had been murdered. It was odd really, because the way the man died was of vital importance. However, the knowledge that Archie had mistaken Ben’s handwriting as Matthew’s warned her not to trust him too much.
Archie looked sad for a moment; then picked up the packaging paper and his spectacles again. “Well, I think that if Brian brought you the plant before he passed away, he wanted you to have it. I would recommend that you look after it carefully because orchids are very delicate plants. They don’t like drafts at all, and you mustn’t over-water them. You must keep it safe, my dear. I hope that one day you will permit me to see it?”
The hope in his eyes was more than Beatrice could bear, and she nodded. “Of course you are welcome to come by and see it whenever you wish.”
“Tell me, have you ever heard of someone called Sigmund Hargraves?”
Archie shook his head. “I am afraid not.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “It’s a shame about Brian. He was a good man, and a very straight talking kind of man who thoroughly enjoyed what he did.”
“Did he work at the university too?”
“Oh, no; nothing like that. He was independently wealthy and, although he gave the occasional lecture here, he was more of a collector and amateur enthusiast.”
“I am sorry to deliver bad news about Mr Mottram,” Beatrice said softly when a slightly awkward silence fell over them.
“It is alright my dear. When you get as old as I am, you expect people to start to drop around you.”
This made Ben smile. He had to admit that he quite liked the elderly gent, even though he had made the faux pas about the handwriting. There was
something about the man’s calm, affable demeanour that bespoke of someone who was logical, and apt to stick to the facts rather than run off on mere flights of fancy.
“Can you transcribe the Latin for us?” Beatrice prompted when she realised that he had yet to do so.
Archie nodded, picked up a pencil and, within minutes, slid the paper across the desk toward Beatrice. He opened his mouth to speak only to jump in alarm when the clock on the wall began to chime. “Oh, dear. I must be off. I have to give a lecture right about now on the other side of the campus.”
“Oh, please don’t let us keep you. You have been most helpful. Please let me know when you wish to come and see the plant. Maybe you could stay and take tea with us?”
“That would be delightful,” Archie beamed as he yanked open the door and waved them through.
“Is Jules Sanders likely to be at home, do you know?” Ben asked when they finally reached the top of the stairs.
Archie nodded. “Jules works from home. He has a huge conservatory at the back of his house that is very similar to yours, Beatrice. He should be there, and will be more than happy to see you both, I am sure of it.”
“Thank you,” Beatrice murmured, but didn’t really think that Archie had heard her because he had already vanished in the opposite direction. They watched him disappear into the gloom before they quietly made their way out of the building.
“For an elderly gent, he certainly does walk quickly,” Beatrice mused wryly.
“Let’s go around to Jules Sanders’ house while we are here. Church Road is not too far away. We can drop by before we pick up Maud,” Ben suggested as he handed Beatrice into his carriage and climbed aboard behind her.
She watched Ben pat his pocket too check that he still had the paper before he picked up the reins and turned the carriage around.
“He seems like an affable chap,” she sighed as she studied the rows of houses they passed.
