The sky was veiled by a dreary overcast as heavy droplets of rain splattered onto the windshield, the wiper blades screeching as they dragged against the wet glass. Water relentlessly pounded against the surface of the moving vehicle, the dull drumming resonating throughout the cabin, and drowning out the repetitive ticking of the signal light. The car turned into a long, stone paved driveway, lined with the towering bodies of barren trees which trailed towards an imposing brick front manor. As the tires continued down the drenched lane, a whistle came from the passenger seat.

"Someone's clearly got money," the passenger remarked as the car came to a gradual halt, his eyes looking on at the building in astonishment. "You mentioned this guy was royalty, or something?" he asked, turning to the woman behind the wheel.

"He's an earl," she corrected, her seatbelt pulling away from her slender frame. She reached for a folder which had been resting on the dashboard, her fingers quickly flipping through the documents within, making certain that everything had been accounted for. "He's also the president of Funtom Corporation." Greeted by silence, she turned to look at him, her fathomless grey eyes met with his apologetic smile. She let out sigh. "I'm going to assume that you didn't go through any of the material I sent you last night."

"I skimmed through it briefly," he said half defensively. "You know that I'm usually a hands-on kind of guy. I can't hover over a laptop reading all night; unlike you, I actually have a life outside of work."

She took a quiet breath, attempting to hide her mild annoyance. "Funtom Corporation is a multinational British toy and confectionary conglomerate, which is headquartered in central London," she explained as she smoothed a lock of silvery blonde hair behind her ear, her eyes refocusing on the documents in hand.

"What's he doing here, then?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," she replied as she reached for the door handle. "From what I've read, they've recently established their North American office. Perhaps he's here to oversee the expansion." She cradled the documents to her chest as she exited the vehicle, lightly slamming the door behind her as she continued ahead.

Thunder roared through the skies as flashes of lightning flickered in the clouds, reflecting against the many windows of the manor. As she approached the building, her eyes began to focus on a second story window where the outline of a person could be seen staring out at her—she felt a chill run through her. Averting her eyes, she turned her focus to her partner as he joined her on the dismally grey steps which led to the front entrance.

"Since your so unprepared, I'm asking that you avoid saying anything that might be regrettable. I'm still traumatized from the time you mistook a man's young wife as his daughter," she said dryly.

He snorted. "In my defence, there was a nearly thirty year age gap between them. I can't be the only one who's made that mistake."

"Marcus…"

"I will be the epitome of discretion."

She eyed him warily before turning her focus to the ornate double doors, a strange sense of unease washing over her as her fingers hovered above the doorbell. Pushing past her hesitation, she pressed down on the button, drawing in a deep breath to compose herself. She waited in silence alongside her partner, passing off her discomfort as an effect of the storm.

After a short series of clicks, the doors swing open, and they were immediately in the presence of a tall, strikingly handsome man. He was starkly pale, with hair that framed his face in strands of carbon, and lips that wore the faintest hint of a smirk. A perfectly tailored, slim fitting black suit clad his lean frame, his hands covered by formal white gloves. Most noticeably, his garnet eyes, which bore into them with the same intensity as a cat: unblinking, and almost predatory.

"May I help you?" he asked, speaking with a very notable English accent. He had a self satisfied air about him—a sort of quiet smugness.

"Hello," she greeted. "I'm Detective Blanche Bennett from the Seattle Police Department, and this is my partner, Detective Marcus Chung." She produced her badge as proof of her claim, her partner following suit. "I believe we've previously spoken over the phone. We have an arranged meeting with the earl."

"We've been expecting you." He politely smiled, stepping aside to allow the detectives to enter. "I'm Sebastian Michaelis, the head butler of the Phantomhive household. A pleasure to make your acquaintance," he formally introduced. "May I take your coats?"

"No, thank you," she declined as she stepped into the home, skimming her surroundings as her partner entered alongside her. "We don't plan on staying long."

Marcus nodded in agreement. "Just a few questions. We won't take too much of his time."

"Right this way, then." Sebastian turned his back towards the pair as he began to cross the dark stone tile, making his way towards the curved staircase which had opened up into the foyer. He moved with a kind of otherworldly elegance, which seemed almost too flawless to be real.

As she motioned to follow him, her attention was captured by a slight tug at her sleeve. She turned to look at her partner, a wide grin breaking through his professional mask.

"He has a butler?" he silently mouthed, his brows raised incredulously. His expression immediately dropped as he was met with the woman's icy stare, replaced by a small pout. Watching as she began to make her ascent up the elaborate staircase, he trailed closely behind her.

"You'll have to forgive the state of the house. We are still in the midst of settling in, and I'm afraid it's not suitable to be entertaining guests quite yet," the butler stated as he reached the top of the stairs, his smooth voice bouncing off the high ceiling. He took a sharp turn, beginning to lead the detectives towards a set of mahogany double doors. "My master should be in his study."

She blinked at his statement, her eyes skimming through her surroundings. She wondered if this was the dry sense of humour that the British were notoriously known for; from what she could see, the home was immaculate. Turning back ahead, her breath caught in her throat as her eyes unexpectedly locked with the butler's penetrating stare. She stopped in her tracks as he stood before the entrance to the room, his hands resting on the brass door handles.

"Just through here." He pushed the doors open, ducking aside to let the detectives in first.

Dark shelves took up the entirety of the adjacent wall where a vast array of leather-bound spines were displayed, the gold stamped lettering boasting the names of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Thomas Hardy, and Oscar Wilde. A flood of dim natural light shon in through a large glass window located to the side of the spacious room, the rain pelting the glass relentlessly, creating ripples against the surface. Positioned at the centre of the room was a large wooden desk where the earl was seated, seemingly engrossed by a thick stack of paperwork.

"Our guests have arrived, my lord."

The earl lifted his gaze upon hearing his butler's voice, his rigid posture and stern expression giving little indication to his thoughts. He appeared to be in his early-twenties, with a boyish face, and a slender frame that was fitted in a midnight blue suit. His head was crowned by short cascades of slate hair, which swept over his brows like silken thread. A piercing oceanic eye stared out from his fair complexion, a leather eyepatch obscuring where his left eye should have been.

"You must be Detective Bennett," he said, motioning to stand. He extended an arm over his desk to greet her with a handshake. "My name is Ciel, Earl of Phantomhive. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise." Her eyes trailed down to his hand as she firmly grasped it, noticing his black nails, which seemed to discord from the rest of the earl's polished image. As she withdrew her hand, she gestures to Marcus. "This is my partner, Detective Chung."

"Nice to meet you," Marcus greeted, reaching forward to shake the earl's hand. He wore a stiff smile, as if to hide his discomfort over the formal introductions.

"Please have a seat." He gestured to the chairs which were arranged at the opposite end of his desk, waiting for his guests to be seated before he sat back down himself. "So tell me, what brings you here today?" he asked, glancing over at Sebastian as he bowed to excuse himself.

"As I'm sure you're aware, a little over a week ago, your regional vice president of finance had been reported missing." She slid her documents across his desk, her eyes following the butler as he took his leave. "His body was found three days following, washed up on Alki Beach."

The earl wordlessly picked up the folder, flipping it open; he didn't seem to flinch as he was met with the chilling picture of a body, bloated beyond recognition. "What happened to Mr. Cutler was an absolute tragedy. He was a valuable asset to our company, and I was saddened by the news of his untimely death," he said, peering at her from over the file. "However, that still doesn't tell me why you're here. From my understanding, his death had been ruled a suicide. Surely, the Seattle Police Department has other things to prioritize." There was the slightest trace of mockery in his tone, which could have easily gone unnoticed.

"The case has been reopened," Marcus stated, his arms folding over his chest. "We now have reason to believe that his death may be due to foul play."

"I see," Ciel murmured, nodding slowly as he quickly processed the news. "In that case, what can I do to help?"

"You can start by answering a few questions for us," she said as she crossed one leg over the other, her fingers intertwining over her raised knee. "Do you recall anything that might have indicated that Mr. Cutler was in trouble?" she asked. "A dispute within the workplace, or perhaps some trouble at home?"

The earl shook his head. "I can't say anything comes to mind. Mr. Cutler and I weren't particularly close, and we've only ever interacted on a professional level; even then, those were quite limited." As he spoke, his gaze suddenly fixed on something just past them.

"May I interest either of you in a cup of tea?"

They both jolted in their seats, an involuntary yelp leaving Marcus' throat as their heads whipped around to find the butler standing next to a serving trolley.

"Or perhaps coffee?" Sebastian cocked his head to the side.

"You scared the bejesus out of me," Marcus breathed, a hand clutching his chest.

"Forgive me, that was not my intention," he said apologetically, his smile betraying his amusement.

Her bewildered eyes darted between the servant and the trolley, her heart still in her throat. She was confused as to how he managed to enter the room so quietly. There was no sound of wheels rolling against the stone tile; no rattling of bone china; no footsteps.

"How did you do that?"

His smile seemed to widen as the question left her lips. "I beg your pardon?"

"The trolley," she clarified, though she was certain he knew exactly what she was referring to. "How did you get it in here without making any noise?"

"You appeared to be in the middle of a rather important discussion; I felt it was best not to distract you," he said, the smile remaining on his lips. "If I couldn't do that much, then what kind of butler would I be?"

"That doesn't answer my question," she said flatly. Her attention snapped back to the earl as he suddenly cleared his throat.

"Sebastian, these detectives are here because they suspect that foul play was involved in Mr. Cutler's death," he explained, watching as the butler began to pour the contents of a sterling hot water kettle into a china teapot.

"Is that so?" He turned over a miniature hourglass to time the tea as it steeped, the smell of Earl Grey beginning to lightly perfume the room. "Master, if I may be so bold, perhaps the detectives will find it useful to pay a visit to our corporate office. There's bound to be someone there who can shed a light on their investigation, and if not, Mr. Cutler's office has yet to be cleared of his effects; they may be able to find something that the police had overlooked the first time."

"That does seem to be the best course of action." He nodded in agreement, shifting his gaze back to the detectives. "I can arrange for Sebastian to take you through the building tomorrow; in addition to what was previously said, you'll also have access to the security room. I'd like to do my part in helping with your investigation."

She quietly studied the earl as he spoke, wearing a calm, contemplative expression. His willing cooperation would spare them the trouble of obtaining a warrant, which should have been a relief to her, but she couldn't shake herself of the increasing unease as she remained in their presence—the earl, and his butler. It felt as if the longer she spent sitting there, the more her body became aware that something wasn't quite right.

"We'd appreciate the help," Marcus said, looking to Blanche for confirmation. He raised an eyebrow in confusion as she failed to respond. "Right, Detective Bennett?"

Shaken from her thoughts, she blinked. "Yes," she replied swiftly, her eyes refocusing on the earl. "Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated." As she looked at him, she found herself unprepared for the smile that appeared on his lips.

"Shall we say tomorrow morning, eight o'clock?"

—

"You okay, Bennett?"

Blanche snapped out of her thoughts, startled by the sound of her partner's voice. She looked at him as they sat across from each other at the diner, raising an eyebrow at his question. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've been staring at your soup for the past twenty minutes," Marcus remarked, taking a drink from his coffee mug. "Something on your mind?"

"I'm fine," she replied, absentmindedly stirring her soup. "It's just been an exceptionally busy day."

"Agreed," he said with a light chuckle, before a playful look entered his features. "Though, I never thought I'd see the day where you're the one griping over being busy. Who are you, and what have you done with my workaholic partner?"

Blanche huffed a laugh. "Believe me, I prefer to be busy," she said with a hint of amusement in her voice. Taking in a spoonful of her soup, she cringed, sliding the offending bowl to the side after realizing that she had allowed her food to cool to an unappetizing temperature. "I guess 'busy' wasn't the right word," she pondered aloud as she began to rack her brain for a proper adjective. "Today's just been…"

"Weird?" He grinned.

"Weird," she echoed, nodding. "Every single person we've interviewed today was weird to some degree."

Marcus laughed, folding his arms over his chest as he reclined in his seat. "It must be a full moon, or something."

"Like Mrs. Cutler—"

"Hold on." He lifted a finger to pause her mid-sentence, his brows furrowing. "You thought that the yoga enthused housewife was even worth mentioning?" he asked incredulously. "What about 'Eyepatch' and 'Jeeves'?"

"She puts a concerning amount of faith in the 'magical' properties of crystals," she said dryly. "Need I remind you that she suggested we carry red jasper to help us on the case."

"I'll try anything if it helps us get this case solved," he snorts, shaking his head from side to side. Running a hand through his hair, he disturbed the once orderly locks, pushing them casually to the side. "Speaking of which, I can come into work tomorrow if you'd like."

"That won't be necessary."

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking at her reluctantly. "I feel bad about leaving you to conduct the investigation alone, while I sit at home and scroll through dating apps."

"I'm more than capable of handling things on my own. Go and enjoy your day off."

Besides, what's the worst that could happen?