The Butler Didn't Do It

Guilty Till Proven Innocent

“Gregory!”

Brett ran over to hug him, giving him a big bear squeeze. He was surprised when Gregory only managed a weak hug in return.

Taking a good look at his friend he realized that something was off. Gregory’s face didn’t retain that normal glow of happiness, he looked wan and the dark circles under his eyes id not help the illusion that all was normal.

Detective Quincy strode over to one wall in the kitchen, leaving Gregory’s friends to pester the supposed convict with questions.

“Are you free?”

“Did you have to stab someone?”

“Was prison like the movies?”

Not looking at him Gregory replied, “You could say, I’m not in jail.” And he managed a half smile. “I’m not sure what prison is like. They kept me in a holding cell away from others.”

Lucy, who’d been glued to his side since Brett entered the kitchens, gave him a look of sympathy and put her arms around him. He leaned into her comfortingly. Brett felt that familiar pang of jealousy. Gregory even seemed a little happy to see Brett.

“Excuse Me.” Detective Quincy got everyone’s attention. For a man of average height, he had a deep bass voice that demanded respect. “I suppose I should give you an update. Your Butler is back, for now.” He added with a smile that was not really a smile. “It was discovered that the wine bottle that he’d carrying that nights had no traces of poison.”

“So he’s innocent,” Lucy shouted.

Cheers went up around the kitchen; a few even flung their gloves into the air.

But Quincy didn’t give them long to celebrate. “I didn’t say that.”

The cheers stopped dead. Brett saw a view bend down to pick up the gloves they had thrown up in pre-mature jubilation.

Quincy continued. “The point is anyone could still be a murderer. The poison was transferred to his glass directly. And, because of all the silly dressing up you do, including wearing gloves, our ability to detect fingerprints was hampered.” He expression turned sour. “And since there don’t seem to be ANY cameras in the facility---.“

Davidson sniffed, “The didn’t have the technology---

Quincy rounded on Davidson,

“Yes, I’m very aware of what people didn’t have one hundred years ago. Thank you for adding nothing to the conversation.” The detective snapped at the much taller manservant. If the situation hadn’t been so serious it might actually have made Brett laugh out loud.

Davidson pressed his lips together. It must be difficult to be overruled in his corner of the house. Brett had a feeling he and the other lower servants would have to be extra obsequious later to appease his ego.

“My point was, before Jenkins here interrupted, is that we can’t prove Gregory put the poison in the cup. but he can’t prove he didn’t. Rodgers asked for him to be brought back after we had nothing to press him with.

“I need our best.” A familiar voice said. Everyone turned toward it. Rodgers strode into the kitchen. He looked around unperturbed at the tense scene that greeted him. He saw Gregory and walked forward to greet him, slapping a comforting hand on his favorite butler’s shoulder.

“You alright?” He asked in a soft voice.

Gregory gave him a grateful look. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

With another quick squeeze, Rodgers saw his duty as done and turned his attention to the detective.

“I trust all my servants. And our guests are ladies and gentleman. I refuse to invade their privacy with a camera or ruin the illusion of the time we are trying to rebuild.”

“I thought the murder already did that?” Quincy quipped dryly.

Rodgers was continued without missing a beat. “It was an unfortunate incident and I welcome you to keep investigating, you will find no attempt to halt your investigation from me. But please expect to get a warrant, “ he said pointedly” if you plan to search any of my guests.”

Quincy walked up to Rodgers. Rodgers in his immaculate suit, hands gloved, tie straight was standing with equal steel will against the detective who’s coat looked as if it needed to be dry cleaned. He didn’t even bother wearing a tie.

Yet there was no shame. This wasn’t a time when a gentleman could shut down the law.

“I will keep investigating, thank you for your cooperation.”

“In that case would you like a room—.“

Quincy laughed. “No, we can’t bill the state for a manor stay. I already have a motel booked nearby. We’ll be around.”

“We look forward to your company.”

Rodgers was a good actor for a second Brett almost believed him.

Quincy and his officers left the kitchen. The room remained silent listening to their footsteps grow fainter. As soon as they were no longer in earshot the room audibly breathed. And then chatter began. Gregory was surrounded.

“So did you do it?”

“What was prison like?”

“Did you shank anyone?”

But Lucy someone got to the center of the circle and pulled Gregory to freedom. He clung to her as a sailor a piece of driftwood at sea.

“Let’s go walk. She turned to Davidson. We’ll be back before the concert. Her tone dared him to reject this plan. To Davidson’s credit, he was smart enough not to stop her. “Just be back in time for the concert tonight.”

Brett watched Gregory go, He doesn’t even want to talk to me. This thought came suddenly and fast. Followed by a quick wave of sadness. He hadn’t realized how alone he was.

The concert hall was awash in beautiful lights. Like the soirée before, the room glittered with many lights from the chandeliers. The women sparkled with jewelry and the men wore their most bespoke tuxedos. A pianist was playing all the greatest hits. From 100 years ago of course, but he made the old tunes sound rather catchy. Brett and many of the others were serving the guests and those from the city who were paying only per-event. Those guests who had been here when Oscar was murdered seem to laugh and talk the loudest, absorbing the fun they had paid so much to have before the incident.

It turned out they wouldn’t get this night to relax.

Brett first became aware that something was wrong when he heard voices talking loudly from the concert. Then all the other voices of other guests became deathly quiet and only the Professor’s voice rang out against the background piano music.

“You should be in jail.” The Professor shouted.

Those words made Brett get a better look. Going into the actual concert area he saw The professor had stood up from his seat to confront Gregory, who stood there with flutes and Champaign. “I’m sorry sir if you feel that way.” Gregory looked truly taken aback. But he still attempted to do his job. “Champaign?” He said holding out a glass.

“I wouldn’t accept a drink from your hand! Everyone around you dies don’t they?” Brooks said with a snarl. “Including innocent women who think you a friend.”

Gregory tried to find words. “I honestly don’t know----“

“Let me guess, you don’t know her? Don't you remember Lynn? Don't you remember an innocent young woman that you killed? Or have there been too many?”

Gregory paled.

“How do you know about Lynn?”

Now even the pianist stopped playing.

“I got the letters and, unlike the police, I could read between the lines. I saw what they were really saying.”

“What did they say?” Gregory asked intently, needing to know.

“Don’t play the fool. She was—“

Rodgers had stopped between the two men, “Both of you, come with me. This isn’t the time or place for disputes.”

“But he—“

“He’s a---“

“Let’s discuss whatever it is you want to discuss somewhere more private.”

The butler and professor Brooks nodded. They followed the Rodgers out of the room.

The room was in shock. What had just happened? Brett wondered.

The pianist coughed. “Do…do you want me to keep playing?”

He continued to play. About 20 minutes had gone by and none of the three men had reemerged from the Rodgers’ quarters. The concert continued but very few were actually listening to the pianist.

Max sidled over to Brett, “What was all that about?”

Brett shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“The professor always seemed a little off, maybe he isn’t all there anymore.”

Davidson walked by. “You two, keep offering drinks.”

Max and Brett both picked up a tray and, slowly, meandered over to where the guests gathered.

“Something is confusing though…” Max mused.

“What?”

“Why did Gregory react that way to Lynn’s name?”

Brett frowned. “Maybe he was just in shock.”

“I don’t know but he seemed really angry. And the professor was so sure of himself. I mean there must be crossed wires.”

“Or Gregory knows more than he’s telling.”

Tanya had silently snuck up on them and had heard their conversation.

“Don’t do that!” Brett said.

“I’m sorry you’re so unobservant, I’ve been tailing you for the last few minutes.”

“Don’t you know that some conversations are private?”

“Don’t you know how to whisper?”

“Touché”

“Lynn was the girl who disappeared last year.” Tanya clarified.

“She ran off. She sent letters back, at least according to Quincy.” Brett put in.

“Do you think Gregory knows where she ran off to?”

“I don’t like the sound of “taking advantage” in the context the professor used it,” Tanya said.

“Gregory would never assault anyone.” Brett didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“I hate to tell you how many guys don’t think their friends are creeps. If there was truth in that idea then women would be far safer than they are.” Tanya was looking at Brett hard in a way where Brett knew she had evidence for her stance.

She added. “But I also don’t get that vibe from Gregory. And Lucy, who was Lynn’s friend, trusts him completely. So either there was a misunderstanding”

“On her part,” Brett said.

“Or—“Tanya continued, ignoring him, “someone is lying.”

“Look!” Max said, pointing.

Rodgers, Gregory, and the Professor had returned to the hall. The conversation continued to buzz but all eyes were on the three. Gregory looked pale, the professor looked red. Neither looked happy. But both were, there was no other word for it, determined. Rodgers was boisterous as usual.

“My dear guests. I think we’ve all had quite a bit of fun, and drinks, “ He waited for a laugh and only received silence. He continued, “for tonight. May I suggest that everyone get to bed? Please don’t worry. More shall be told in the morning. I bet you weren’t expecting your stay to be this exciting.”

This brought a few nervous titters from the crowd.

“But now, it’s late, the dawn shall be,” he glanced at Gregory and Professor Brooks, “enlightening.”

The guests were intrigued but Rodgers wasn’t inclined to continue. The professor glared one last time at Gregory and then stormed off towards his room.

“I can not wait for that dawn. I’m sure it shall bring me more pleasure than others he called over his back as he exited the room.”

Gregory paled even more.

Why is Gregory so nervous?

Everyone lots of time to ponder the case as they did their nightly chores it seemed. As Brett was on his knees scrubbing the daily grime from a sink Max rushed over. “Guess what I heard!”

Tanya and Wen were close behind. “We literally just told you!” Tanya admonished him.

“Let us tell him,” demanded Wen.

“But it’s so good!” Max put his hands up in a begging gesture.

Tanya put a friendly hand over his mouth.

“You’re a goof.” She turned to Wen. “Tell him.”

“We heard from Lars, well overheard Lars talking to his friends...” Wen began to veer off track in order to put in every detail.

Tanya was having none of it. “They said that Lynn’s father was a professor!”

“He must have snuck back to bring justice for his daughter,” Wen added, unwilling to let Tanya have all the Glory

“Well, he won’t have any justice by having Gregory arrested.”

The three looked at each other.

“But none of us were here.”

“And, maybe he’s not a murderer but…” Tanya ventured carefully.

“I don’t think you should say anything more,” Brett warned. He wasn’t going to let them claim he was a racist.

“How well do you know your friend?

“Pretty damn well!”

“Then why hasn’t he even talked to you since he got back?”

This was a very good question that had been nagging Brett.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

Pushing past the three he ran towards Gregory’s room. He ignored the servants in the hall who gave him odd looks. His only goal was to talk to Gregory. Without knocking he burst into the room. Gregory was sitting on his bed, head in hands. Looking defeated. He looked up when Brett entered the room and sighed.

“Yeah, I know. You want to talk. Fine. What about?”

“Why haven’t you talked to me tonight?”

Gregory didn’t move. His face had turned to stone. “Are you kidding me?”

“I---“

“Are you f*****g kidding me?”

“…No.”

“Of course that’s the question you would ask. Because everything is about you. YOU are the victim because those other kids tricked you. You are the victim because you have to do drudge work. You are the victim because of your best friend, who you don’t even talk to anymore and who saved your ass by getting you a job, doesn’t come crying to you after getting back from a police interrogation.”

Brett didn’t know what to say. What can you say to the truth?

“But you are my friend…”

“Then why don’t you show it sometime?”

“But I---.”

“You know what, if this is what you call friendship then I don’t need it. I have enough of my own problems right now without dealing with your insecurities.” With that Gregory shoved him out of the room and slammed the door.

Gregory couldn’t believe it. He was hurt. He was angry. HE wanted to kick Gregory’s teeth in and give him a hug at the same time. It was all very confusing.

I’ll go to sleep. I expect he’ll apologize after he wakes up. And with that last satisfying thought, he drifted back to his own room and into a restless sleep.

He wasn’t expecting to wake up to the loud screaming of one of the maids.