The Butler Didn't Do It

With Friends Like These

The detective held out a hand. “Detective Quincy.” His voice was what whiskey would sound like if it could talk.

Brett was nervous but decided it was better to cooperate. “Brett Stevens.” He said, extending his own hand.

Detective Quincy didn’t waste any words. “So I surmise, after talking to your employer, that you and Gregory were close?”

Nodding, Brett sighed and sat on the bed.

“Can you think of any reason your friend might have killed Oscar?”

“No.”

“Did your friend have any enemies?”

“No.”

“Look, If you want to find out the truth I can help, But I am going to need more than a one-word brush-off,” Quincy said, not frustrated, just factual.

“What’s the point? You already think he’s guilty.”

“It looks suspicious certainly. Your friend was providing drinks to the victim. The victim drank a poisoned drink. The victim dies. You can see why your friend is a suspect, right?

Brett stood, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. “But anyone could’ve poisoned his drink! Gregory was just a there to provide libation in case that man wasn’t within reaching distance of a drink. But I can’t think of a reason he would have had to kill him.”

Quincy said nothing for a moment, he seemed to be weighing Brett’s words, deciding how to best respond.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s hard when our friends turn out to not be who we thought they were.” There were footsteps near the door and then a knock. “Come in!” the detective called. Several officers were standing in the corridor. Quincy asked, “Did you find anything?”

“Nothing.” One tired looking officer replied.

“Well, it has to be on the grounds somewhere.”

“What exactly are you looking for anyway.”

Quincy didn’t turn to face him, but responded, “The poison. It wasn’t on your friend. Which means he had a partner, who spirited it away during the commotion or he hid it very well in the ballroom...

Or, thought Brett, because he didn’t do it.

Any doubt the detective had placed into Brett’s mind disappeared. Gregory had always chosen to see the best in Brett, even when he had majorly screwed up.

I’m sorry Brett sent out a little thought to Gregory. I’m not going to doubt your innocence again.

But now he had a hard task ahead of him. If he didn’t find the poison the police would assume Gregory had acted alone and dumped the poison without anyone noticing. He may not get the death sentence, but jail time was certainly a possibility, especially with so many witnesses having witnessed the fight.

Perhaps they didn’t see what they thought they saw. I mean there had been a fight. But what was it really about?

Brett knew he had to find out. He finally fell asleep, while thinking of different ways to poison someone.

Brett had once had breakfast with his parents after he’d been caught with a girl in his room. He’d thought that was awkward. Turns out breakfast the morning after the murder is more so.

The guests sat around the long mahogany dining table. Before them was spread an opulent breakfast. There was bacon cooked into three different levels of crispiness, strawberries gleaming in their bowls, waiting to be dipped into the clouds of cream nearby, pancake piles, French toast towers, and oranges sliced into perfect symmetry... For Brett, whose meals downstairs were far less glamorous, it was torture to see all that food lying untouched. ,

The table was uncomfortably silent. The guests sat in their morning-wear, every once in awhile one guest might venture into some small talk but it would quickly sputter out. Despite the fine clothes and the immaculate breakfast, the police roaming the house all morning had put the guests on edge. It was quite difficult to enjoy one’s historical getaway when a present-day murder investigation rudely interrupted the illusion.

Only the professor seemed impervious to the general atmosphere of dread. Indeed, he was eating with gusto. Paul seemed to get his fill by remarking on the staff’s incompetence.

“Why can’t we get service?”

“There is less staff than last year, I’m afraid.”

Paul raised an eyebrow. “Which was already a down from the year before.”

Rodgers was ready, staying in character he replied, “Well you know there was a servant problem at the turn of the century. All that city living pulling them away to try their hand at independence.”

He laughed and the guests, though not sure they understood what the joke was, laughed as well.

The professor did not join in. As he buttered some toast he remarked, “I’m not sure if I would say that the problem was the servants.”

All the guests turned to the man who was obviously the lowest on the class totem pole. He had no rich garments, title, or a luxury suite. He didn’t socialize with the guests nearly as much as he did the servants. On any normal morning, they might ignore what they assume would be a history lesson. This morning they welcomed any conversation to take their minds off of the murder from the night before.

“Do enlighten us.” Said Lady Audrey.

The professor obliged. “For many years being in service meant one lived at the establishment where one worked. Considering that most manors were so large and far from towns that coming and going would require a horse and carriage, leaving was a nuisance.” He took a bite of toast and continued. “Because of this employers desired that their help be singe, so they wouldn’t need to go home to take care of their families. Imagine, young people couldn’t marry, not if they wanted to keep their jobs. They usually one had one day or half day off. The pay was atrocious as their accommodations,”, he said this sarcastically, “were considered part of the wages. So saving enough to get out of service was difficult for the lower staff.”

“How did anyone get out of it then?” Samantha asked, interested.

“Well early on one could rise through the ranks to earn a larger salary. Of course, those positions were highly competitive, so it wasn’t a likely scenario. The cities offered them a solution. Factories came to be the most desired work. Once laws were passed the hours and labor were better, Consider that! Working in a factory was easier than working as a maid or butler. Young people migrated to the cities to work and live.

He poured himself some tea. Everyone, riveted by his voice and the passion with which he spoke of the subject, and waited for him to take a sip. Then he pressed on.

“Then there was the Great War. Then they needed women to work in the factories while men were serving in the military. So no maids or butlers were easy to come by. After the war, women, and men knew what it was like to have more freedom and wages for their work. No one wanted to live in someone else’s house and earn a paltry salary to do so.”

“Although you must admit it was a simpler time.” Rodgers countered.

The professor shook his head. “Only those who gained something from the system would say that. I’m not sure those servants would call their lives simpler. Young men not able to pursue their own careers.,” The professor's expression went dark. “Women harassed by their employers and other powerful individuals who faced no chance of punishment…”

Richards was looking at Professor with curiosity.

“Very interesting. Have you been studying the era long?”

“Only for about a year.”

“What sparked such an interest?” Asked Samantha.

The professor said, without looking up, “You could say it’s a theme that hits close to home.” Everyone at the table quietly gazed around.

He laughed. “Come now! I’m an academic; we get into rivalries, friendly and not, all the time.” He looked around for a reason to change the subject.

“I must say I am lucky to be in the presence of all this delicious food.” He picked up a large piece of bacon from a platter with his fork. “I don’t know how one even makes bacon that transcends the realm of soft into air-like.”

With that, the guests all joined in complimenting the food and discussing how they liked their own bacon prepared. Even Rachel talked about her precious vegan bacon.

Rich people are weird Brett said as he took an empty platter away.

Rich people were also terrible at keeping crumbs off the carpet, Brett thought to himself as he strained to pick bacon bits from the carpet. They couldn’t use vacuums, to anarchistic; so cleaning was still a mind-numbing, never-ending endeavor.

“Do you think anyone would know if I ate the rest of this cheese ball?” Max whispered from across the room.

Brett lifted his head above the table to see Max holding out a half consumed ball of spreadable cheese, smiling like he’d just found gold.

“There are no more crackers, what would you eat it with?

Without another word, Max bit into the half-melted cheese orb like an apple. Brett shuddered with revulsion.

“That’s’ disgusting!”

“Nope, it’s delicious. Here try some. “ Max held out the ball, which was now melted slightly from the heat of his hand.

“I don’t think I want any.”

“Here just try a little bit.” Max ripped off a little piece of cheese from the side he hadn’t chewed on and tossed it across the table to Brett, who caught it. It stuck to his hand like gum.

“Ewww!”

“Don’t be a coward.”

Brett, grimacing, popped the piece of warm cheese into his mouth, expecting an overpowering saltiness. He was surprised. Though it was warm, it tasted sharp but not overpowering or too salty. It was one imagined cheese should taste like.

“Oh wow! That is good.” Brett said when he swallowed the cheese. “Why don’t we get to eat so well downstairs?”

Before Max could answer there were several voices behind Brett. He didn’t have to turn to know who they were, but he did anyway.

“Oh my god!” Shrieked Rachel.

“Did you see that!?” Whispered Tyler.

“He ate cheese from our garbage!” John clutched his stomach, laughing a mean belly laugh.

“Oh no, are you really that hungry Brett? Are things that hard at home.” Veronica took a step closer to him. Brett wished he could melt into the floor as easily as the cheese ball melted into Max’s hand. Thank god Veronica wasn’t laughing.

“I can’t believe we thought you were cool.” Rachel said, bringing him back to earth. Brett was frozen. He wasn’t sure what to do. Fight? Runaway? Before he had a chance to do either Max stepped in all professional,

“Can I help you find something?”

John looked Max up and down. He obviously didn’t want to mess with someone who looked like he could easily break walls for a living.

“I’ve left my gloves in my room, go and bring them down,” John said in an imperious tone.

Max made his way to the servant’s stairs. John waited until he was out of earshot and then he took out his gloves from his pocket

“Oh no, you didn’t “ Rachel laughed.

Veronica hit him lightly on the shoulder, “You’re so mean!” She scolded with a smile.

“Well, the poor guy obviously wants something to do, might as well help him out.” John was doing his best to look sincere. “At least he knows his place,” John said this pointedly to Brett.

Brett felt his hands clench into fists at his sides. “Is there somewhere else you should be?”

“Well, in fact, we are going for a walk in the maze. We are going to enjoy our vacation despite all the incidents your friend caused.”

“It wasn’t him,” Brett said for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“Whatever you say. Although criminals keep company with other criminals they say.”

“And liars fit in anywhere they please.” Brett spat back.

John turned red and stepped forward.

“If you don’t start acting your role I’m going to see to it that you’re not around here much longer. I didn’t pay to get talked down to by a servant who thinks he’s better than the rest of us.”

“I don’t think I’m better than all of you.”

John understood the meaning and raised his fist. Tyler stopped him. “He’s not worth it, come on.”

With a nasty look at Brett John sneered nodded. The four left the room. Brett noticed that Veronica gave him a sad glance as she walked away. Brett watched them go. How could Veronica tolerate that guy? Wasn’t it obvious how terrible of a person he was from the tips of his well-shod toes to the bangs of his trimmed brown hair?

But I didn’t see it either. He’s good at making you believe everything is just a joke, that the aggressive exterior is just a front. I fell for it so why should I be surprised that someone as sweet as she does. I can save her though.

Max came rushing back into the dining room. He carried a large basket full of gloves.

“I can’t find them. I looked all over the room! Then I went to the costume closet to get another, I wasn’t sure of his size so I just grabbed them all. Hey,” Max said, realizing that John and the others were gone. “Where did everyone go?”

‘It was a trick.” Brett said simply.

“Oh?”

“They had them the whole time.”

“I see.”

For a minute neither said anything. Max just stared down at the basket of gloves.

“Sorry,” Brett mumbled, not meeting Max’s eyes.

“It’s alright, but now let’s get these dishes cleaned up.”

The two began to clean. As they did so Brett thought of how a few months ago, he would have played the exact same trick on the overeager college kid. Now, being the one who was having tricks played on him, he realized it was not so funny.

“I don’t think he did it you know.”

Brett started, gazed at Max who was scrubbing grease from a chair leg.

“Come again?”

Max sat up. He leaned on the table, towards Brett. “I don’t think your friend murdered Oscar. Or at least, I don’t think he’s the most likely suspect like everyone else seems to think.

“ I’m glad someone else believes that.”

“Have you tried talking to anyone?”

Brett blushed. “Um…well…”

“So No.”

“They don’t really like to talk to me.”

“You were pretty insufferable during training.”

“No I wasn’t, I mean, everything we’re doing is silly.”

“But we are all being silly together. Doesn’t help to have one person telling us that we are all just playing dress up and that such-and-such would be so much easier. We know. Sometimes you just got to be silly man.”

Brett was about to reply when two others walked into the room. It was a housemaid and a butler, both of whom had seniority over Max and Brett.

Max smiled and waved. “Hey Michelle, hey Daniel.”

“Oh hey, didn’t realize you had this shift. You almost finished? Lars is having a cow,” said Daniel. Brett realized he was the butler with red glasses, though he must be wearing contacts now.

“Yeah, we were just talking; it’s just so weird to have police crawling all over the place,” Max explained.

Yeah, I know! It’s super freaky. Even worse than last year.” Michelle said in a hushed voiced.