I was quickly progressing and was surprised by how cooperative Mr. Butler had been throughout the process. I had heard the sound of his footsteps quite a few times as he moved about the rooms on the floor above and noticed his shadow pass by the stairs towards the kitchen and to the room at the end of the hallway that I was not allowed to enter. I kept to myself at such occasions and usually found my way out of the house to give him more privacy.
I had discovered a small path, a well-traveled one, leading into the forest on the second day and followed it. I was greeted by the sight of a beautifully glittering lake at the end of the path. The curling roots of trees made beautiful spots to sit on and enjoy the shade of the forest and the waterbody at the same time. On the third day, I found a stretch of cultivated land, all of it growing vegetables. The only person this could belong to was my current employer.
'Mr. Butler, are the vegetables yours?' I texted.
'Yes', His reply was prompt.
I peered into the basket to see that he had probably left it there in the early hours letting it sit under the sun because he was too lazy to work on his little farm.
Amused, I took out the pair of gloves inside the basket and put them on. After a little search on Google, I was confident that I wouldn't do worse than my predecessor. With that boost in confidence, I got to work.
It was a sport of patience, indeed and I spent most of my time relaxing through it. Having collected a variety of things, I brought back the whole set to the house.
It was uncannily silent inside, but nothing was out of place.
I placed them in the refrigerator and settled the basket beside the fridge, which seemed to be meant for it, hoping that I was doing the right thing.
'Produce is in the freezer.'
I received a thank you and nothing after that.
Well, if he wasn't having them, then no one else would. It would have to rot in the freezer, then.
The next morning I found a new cup in the cupboard. It was different from the matching set in the house and looked new.
Later that day, I found the pot of tea I drank from the most replenished. A little later when I wanted lunch I found a nice platter of baked vegetables inside the microwave, ready to be heated.
'Did you enjoy the veggies?'
'Did you enjoy the tea, Miss Lewis? -Sebastian Butler'
And my suspicion was confirmed.
The next day I found the basket near the lake, yet again. I burst into laughter as I reached it and saw that he had not even tried this morning, hoping that I would stumble across his neatly laid out pile. Shaking my head, I looked around to inspect and enjoyed the morning breeze.
It seemed that I had magnificent luck farming.
.
My productivity and hunger are inversely proportional. Halfway through the day, I felt so hungry that the man living in the house could probably hear me and my stomach grumbling in unison.
My brain felt fried and my limbs had lost all will to move. I was almost at that point where my stomach gave up and dismissed its hunger. In horror stories online, this is when your gastrointestinal juices start eating your own stomach to provide nutrition. I never had the heart to find out the truth.
I had packed a lunch box the night before but I had finished it in the morning because I woke up too late to prepare breakfast. Therefore without any lunchbox, I was supposed to cook a meal for myself in someone else's house.
Unfortunately enough, it was almost time for him to come down to grab some food, too. So I cooked two portions of the meal I was going to have and a fish side dish to go with it. I covered his portion and silently munched on mine. On queue, I hear him descend the stairs.
I ducked my head and concentrated on my food as I saw him enter the kitchen and move towards the refrigerator. I think he realized that the food on the table was meant for him and came to check. Lifting the lid, he lowered his head and smelled the platter. He turned around and even though I could no longer see him from the corner of my eyes, I could hear the clinking of cutlery and the sound of running water. He was back within moments, picking up a spoonful of food and putting it in his mouth.
I waited with bated breath as he chewed on it. I even stole a glance at him and saw a thoughtful expression pass by it.
"Salty." He commented, ungenerously, making me wonder why I had tried to be considerate of me. I was hoping that he was not talking to me, though, especially since I would not be touching or tasting the fish at any cost.
"Thank you for your effort, but please don't try to cook after this," his voice was stern yet soft.
I took the moment to look up at him again and wondered if I should retaliate.
"I'll remember that," I said with a smile. "I imagine you won't see me often enough to have to cook for you, though. I am almost done with all my work. I'll just need tomorrow. Enjoy the food!" With that I gulped down the rest of the food and went back to work with one hand on my stomach, rubbing it and hoping that I don't have digestive problems after taking away his food.
My first face to face encounter with the eccentric Mr. Butler was not as smooth sailing as I hoped it would be. I would imagine that to do the work he does for so long, he would be peculiar and quirky, but his nitpicking tendencies were not winning him points with his co-workers or students. How he adapted to crime scenes was a mystery in itself.
I heard the clanking of kitchenware and squinted in irritation. After staring for an odd amount of time, I saw him emerge and walk towards me with a plate of food.
He placed it with a clank and placed a spoon beside it, only satisfied after perfectly aligning it with the table and the aforementioned plate.
He didn't offer any explanation. He left me to decide if I wanted a taste or not.
The vapors rising from the dish made my mouth water, especially because I was still hungry and in need of something to snack on.
'Should I give in to the temptation and lose this round?'
'Wait… there are rounds?'
After intense consultation and weighing of pros and cons, I decided for having a little bite of food to see how well he cooked and if he had the right to judge me.
I made sure that he was not around to witness me lower myself and taste his food. And when I did, I lowered my head with a chuckle.
Indeed, he knew how to cook.
I rearranged the pieces of shredded veggies just to make the bite look inconspicuous, and hoped that he would not catch on when he eventually comes to check on it, and I knew he would.
As predicted, he came around a couple of hours later and observed me going about my work silently.
"I think I proved my point," I heard him saying and raised my head to see what he meant. He was talking to me and he had a sly expression on his face. He pointed towards the dish.
"I'll admit to your superior culinary abilities, but you are quite rude when it comes to approaching others. I'm not sure if I am offended or humored by your lack of knowledge of social customs."
"I am not inclined to believe in scientism, but I do think that efficiency is superior to following bogus social norms that can only drag down our productivity and render us vegetables in the salad we call society." Though amusing, his words flared a competitive streak in me. I bit back earnestly.
"Yet these are the very norms that help you distinguish between one suspect and the next and calculate their chances of being the culprit." Thoroughly overjoyed that I had overcome his reasoning I was about to go back to work when he dropped another sentence.
"By all means, I encourage others to resort to these socially upheld rules of morality, but I bar myself from becoming one of them, that reduces my ability and neutrality towards them, Miss Lewis. I'd rather let them be the victims than be one instead." He shrugged. "Nothing else to say?" I nodded my head. "Go ahead," he coaxed.
"I'm afraid you've fallen into one stereotype while trying to avoid it, Mr. Butler. The transparent intellectual."
"I was hoping you would hold back your tongue in hopes of saving your wage," he countered, sounding impressed.
"I never pass up a good debate, it is one of my vices, regretfully." To add effect I raised my chin and gave him the best defiant look I could muster.
He looked might amused as he removed the dish from the table and went back to the kitchen, not resurfacing until later, the plate warmed and kept back on the table.
"Enjoy the meal, Miss Lewis, I would hate for it to go to waste." He curtsied, shoved his hands into his pocket and went upstairs, not to be seen for the next two days.
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