“What’s the case, Gregory?” I asked.
“In a moment, Kendall, first could you get me another cup of cappuccino? I'm out," he said, looking at his cup.
I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "And why can't you get it yourself? I'm not your maid!" I said, shaking my head.
"You're my partner, Kendall. They're close enough to the same thing," Greg said with a certain glance at me. “Anyway, I have to return to the client. Here's my cup and saucer. Don't put as much milk in it as my last one," he said as he got up from the chair and laid his folded up London Times on the table. The cleanest table of the house, I might add, no help from him.
"Sure…," I rolled my eyes and got his cup from him. Less milk than last time? How about no milk and just straight espresso? I was really tempted to try that and see if he still would treat me like his coffee maid afterwards. I brought the cup to the kitchen and watched him as he walked to the sitting room out of the corner of my eye. I set the cup and saucer on the fairly empty countertop and got out Greg's cappuccino materials. After all of my time working with him, I knew exactly where everything in the house was, which was more than you could say of Greg himself. I didn't even live there, yet at times it felt like it was more of my home than his. I was the only one who cleaned it, anyhow, and I also spent more time at his house than at my own little flat.
Careful as to not spill anything, I poured the espresso into Greg's cup and then just a tad of milk, just so I could honestly say that there was milk in it. I stirred it with one of Greg's silver spoons and brought it to him in the living room.
"Ah, yes, and this would be my colleague, Ms. Bell, Mr. Phillips," I heard Greg say as I gave his cup to him.
I nodded to the wild haired, escaped peacock or Mr. Philips as he was apparently named, and then I looked again at Greg. "So what's the case, Gregory?" I looked at him expectantly.
He looked over at me. "Can't say yet, Ms. Bell, but I can say that this man would love a spot of tea; bring it in, please?" he said.
"Of course, of course…" I replied with a faked smile. There were moments that Greg made me love him, but this was not one of those. This was more of a moment when I pondered quitting and hiring him an actual maid to clean up after him and fetch the tea and coffee for him like so. I walked back to the kitchen in my itchy dress and poured the man some tea. One of these days, I swear I just may hire him a maid. It would make my life much less stressful.
I return to the parlor and give the man the cup and saucer. "Here's your tea, sir," I said with a smile and sat down on the arm of one of the seats, looking at the two men.
Mr. Philips slowly drank his tea, only looking at Greg. "You know the Weatherstone family, the millionaire owners of the Weatherstone hotel chain?" he asked, and Greg nodded for him to continue. "Well, you see, Mr. Harris, I have worked for them for a long time and they are a very kind family and—"
"The point, Mr. Philips?" Greg sighed as he took a sip of his cappuccino. I held back a grin as I watched him make an odd look at his drink. He then softly set the drink back down and scooted it away from himself with an unamused glance at me.
"Oh, right, right," Mr. Philips said, nodding. "Late last night Mistress Weatherstone got the most disturbing letter in the mail…," He pulled out an envelope and passed it to Greg.
Gregory got the letter and glanced it over. "My magnifying glass, Ms. Bell?" he ordered as he looked over the letter with his hand outstretched towards me. I got up from the chair arm and went over to the bookcase, where he had left it last, and brought it back to him. Greg flipped the light green envelope over and we both saw the dark green wax seal. I watched as he carefully opened the letter and pulled out a pale green paper. He unfolded the letter and started to skim through it.
"Can't I see it, too?" I asked with a small frown as I watched him.
He just waved me off and continued to skim the letter. "Just a moment, Kendall, let the expert finish his turn." I snorted at that. Expert? Well, he might have been, but he also was being his typical arrogant self. Greg then turned the page over and began to look over it with his glass. I watched him and glanced over at Mr. Phillips to see that he had put his hat back on. He looked much better with it on, hiding that feathery cowlick of his. "And why didn't you take this matter to the police, sir?" Greg then asked.
Mr. Philips nervously wrung his hands. "I–I just wasn't sure who to take it to, Mr. Harris," he said. "Mistress Weatherstone said that she hadn’t wanted it to reach the press. And well, most things the police do appear in the papers, and we don't really want that..."
Greg nodded as he continued to examine the letter. "All right, we can keep it subtle, Mr. Phillips," I bit my tongue to hold back a laugh. Gregory Harris? Subtle? Sure, he could be sneaky and clever when needed, but avoid the press?
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