Earl Grey

Earl grey


"I'm Cammy O'Malley with action seven news, on the scene of yet another in a long line murders attributed to the killer known only as Earl grey. Given this name for the fact that the only piece of evidence left behind by the murder is a single bag of used Earl grey tea. One might think that that may be a clue, but even that clue comes to a dead end."

Earlier that day, 5:47 to be precise.

Whittard Tetley returns to his Yorkshire estate, later than usual. He was detained at his place of business by his business partners. They had recently had concerns about some irregularities in the finances. News of a possible investigation into this by the government has his partners quite worried. Rightly so in fact, Whittard had been pocketing millions from the company for the better part of the past two decades. He had created the company and therefore felt that he shouldn't share the wealth with his partners as he was obligated too. It of course started off simple enough, a dinner expense here, a replacement car there, a night on the town with any pretty young thing that would cross his path. Until now he wasn't even spending it on things, he was just putting it into a bank account in the caimans, because that's what rich folk do.

Tonight would be the last time he'd ponder why he did the things he had done. As he entered his estate he didn't even notice the lack of dogs running up to the door upon entry. Neither did he notice the faint smell of hot water and tea leaves. He took off his coat, folding it unto the matching silken hanger and carefully placing it into the red oak coat closet. He took off his hat, picked off a few bits of fuzz and flotsam that had floated upon it on his way home then placed that too into the red oak closet. Picking up the daily paper he decided to go into th study and have a sit to do some reading. As he entered the room he noticed a man sitting in a chair. This man was wearing a rather nice tailor made suit, black pin stripe, it was clearly expensive. Nothing remarkable about the man himself, a pair of black Leather gloves, his hair was almost the color of common in its brown hue. The man motioned for Whittard to sit in the chair next to him, Whittard did just that. The man picked up a teapot that Whittard had never seen before and poured two cups of tea, which made sense as there were only two cups in which to be poured.

The teapot was rather old, but clearly beloved. A small chip here a minor crack there, each having been smoothed over with a workman's paste. Then repainted to look like the fine floral print it originally Displayed. The cups of course matched the teapot except they seem a bit more weathered than the pot itself, likely due to them being more commonly handled. A matching sugar cube box, a milk saucer and honey pot carefully placed around where the teapot had been. There seemed some sort of methodical nature to each of the items placing. Even the table upon which they sat. Whittard only now recognizing that this table was not one of his, it must have been placed here just like the teapot set and the man, who had just finished pouring the tea.

"Would you care for one lump or two?" The man said calmly.

"..uh.. None thank you, I care not for sweets." Whittard replied apprehensively.

"How about a splash of milk then?" The mans voice never faltered in its tonality or demeanor.

"Uh, yes, I would like, thank you." Whittard started to feel less astranged by this odd man who he found in his house. "May I inquire as to what we are getting at?"

"We are having tea of course. I had hoped to do it earlier, but you were clearly delayed." The man spoke with such precision that his words came out effortlessly, it almost didn't seem that he ever took a breath while speaking, or otherwise.

"To right, however why are we having tea?" Whittard was fishing for more of a response that the obvious.

"But of course that it is tea time. Thusly we will drink tea at its appointed time." The man now sipping his tea Stating the obvious, but for some reason doing it twice.

"Very well." Whittard sipped his tea gently, his mind was rocked with a floral bouquet he had never had before tasted. "My, this tea is excellent, is it a Darjeeling?"

"Darjeeling is not the kind of tea for such occasions. I find that Early grey is the only appropriate flavor. It has a simple sophistication, something that is missing in most other flavors." The man spoke about the tea with a passion. His words carried more than just his thoughts but almost even his experience in tasting multiple teas.

"And what kind of occasion is this then?"

"A very special one, for the both of us."

"Is there a reason you are being coy in your response?"

"Not particularly, I have just found it easier for others to talk about what they need to unburied themselves with. If I begin be creating a back and forth banter. While remaining neutral in tone, discourse and inflection. If you wish we can be done talking, should you feel there is nothing more to talk about." The man takes a sip of his tea then motions to set it down.

"No, no. Just curious is all, even a man of my age can not help but be so." Whittard takes a sip of his tea and seems to settle into his chair.

"Of course." The man takes another sip.

"Well, I am unsure where to begin. I've done a great many good things, the bad does seem to outweigh. The first horrible thing I can recall with clarity is having forced my nanny into a blackmail situation. You see I had known of her need for money to help out her ailing mother. So I purposefully placed expensive and easily resold items in the house which she took care of me in." Whittard stopped for a moment to take another sip of tea. "Perchance are there any jammies?"

"Apologies but no, I fear they tend to hinder more than help." The man seemed to be studying Whittard's face intently.

"Oh well, they would likely just detract from the flavor of the tea I suppose. . . Where was I?"

"Placed expensive items for the nanny to pilfer."

"Right right. And pilfer she did, but I knew she would take them so I confronted her about them. She panicked and pleaded with me not to report her to my father. With that over her head I now used her for various diversions. Many tawdry, some more for sport than purely puerile need to have someone to lord over. Although the feeling of being all powerful over another person can be quite addicting. If I told her to strip down past her small clothes, she would do it and cry the whole time, until I had her trained enough not too. The few times she would rear up and try to get out from my grasp I'd remind her of her place and her ailing mother. I am able to recall an actual loss if luster in her eyes over time." Whittard becomes lost in memory and takes a moment to think. He takes another sip then continues. "Of course it was only a matter of time before the mother finally passed on and my hold over the nanny would break. The most efficient way I came up with to keep her mine, was to have her bare me a child.
I fed her a story of why I had done what I had done to her. That I'd felt an overwhelming need for her. It could have been the conditioning she had been through, or the minds need to take an easy answer in certain situations. Either or she took the bait. For the next year I pretended to love her, that I'd fallen for her and wanted to have a family with her. She would make note of my age in compare to her own. Which was easy enough to maneuver around. After she finally conceived and began showing I made her stay out behind the garden in the winter wing of the estate. I planted the fear of what my father might do to her and the child if he ever were to find out about our love." Whittard goes to take a sip but has run out of tea. "Oh dear, I seem to have emptied my cup. Is there enough for one more?"

"I believe so." The man picks up the teapot and pours the last bit of tea into Whittard's cup. Whittard proceeds to take a sip.

"Hmm. Seems to have over cooked, bitterness has set upon. As does everything I suppose. Hmm.. What was I saying?" Whittard seemed slightly confused at his current situation and state of mind.

"Fear, keeping the now pregnant nanny in its grasp."

"Of course.. strange." Whittard takes another sip and licks his lips awkwardly.
"Back to the nanny. She was ecstatic about the child and seemed to have forgotten almost entirely the abuses I'd put her through. Then one night she awoken to a brutal beating at the hands of an unknown assailant. She fought him off as best as she could but he got in a great many strikes to her face and gut. She likely felt ill immediately and passed out. . . Well I shall spare you the details but suffice to say my plan to keep her heeled to me had worked. She felt horrible and blamed herself for not being stronger. I never directly blamed her, only offhandedly so. I played the caring understanding lover. She cleaved to me harder than a butcher to a knife. She kept on about trying for another one, and I kept playing the fear of lose to keep her in tow. Eventually it seemed she decided to take it into her own hands and seduced the gardener. I found out about them by walking in on them mid ride. It was then and there that I learned if you don't have an active long term plan. Sometimes the pawns will get it into their mind that they have free will." Whittard takes another sip and gives out a sigh. "Tell me something about yourself, I fear I've been rambling on and on."

"Of course, well the tea I've brewed.."

"Oh you brewed this yourself?" Whittard interrupted.

"... Yes.. It is also hand picked and folded into neat little packages. I've found that the care given into each one actually seems to come across in the flavors." The man was perturbed by the rude interruption, but didnt let it be too easily noticeable to Whittard.

"That is exactly what I have been saying. You need to put in the time and effort to make things go the way you want them too. But never can you falter or let up. Case in point, my business I built it from the ground up. I created the structure it runs on, the guidelines which it makes money, and the infrastructure of its necessity to the world! Now though, my partners are act that all of that isn't worth ninety percent of the profits. They claim that since they created the products the company sells, that they should have the larger chunk." Whittard sips another sip, and gives off a small belch. "They want to create a three way share of twenty six percent between us. With the remainder going to the employees! The employees! What've they done to earn anything, it was MY money that made things possible. My good name that made people think their product was worth anything. I deserve everything." Whittard takes the last sip, then has a strange look cross his face. He looks to the man. "I'm not sure what happened to the tea, but it seems to have garnered a strong iron taste..." With that Whittard Tetley falls dead, face first into the table. Precisely missing every single piece of the teapot set and planting his face right in the middle of them.

The man sits in his chair for a moment and finishes his tea. He pulls out a pocket watch to check the time and sees that it is ten minutes past six. He gives off a small sigh then proceeds to pack up the teapot set. Once done he sets Whittard Tetley back into his chair and closes his eyes and walks out of the house.

Present.

"... Little is known about almost every aspect of this case. You can clearly see on the faces of the detectives on site that even they are baffled as to their next move. The deceased is confirmed as Whittard Tetley, renown philanthropist and co president of one of the largest software firms on the planet. Why this, some would say holy man was targeted by Earl grey can only be speculative. But one thing is for sure, I know I am sticking with coffee."