A Tea time in Scarlet

Story - Prompt : Start or end your story with a character making a cup of tea for themselves or someone else 

“ I’ ll make you a cup of tea,” she said as she disappeared into her kitchen, abandoning them to the silence of the overheated living room. 

“That would be very kind of you,” Lorena replied but the knot of their host’s white hair bun was all that was left of her before it too vanished behind the door. 

Lorena brushed her hands over her skirt to suppress the crease that had been settling since this morning. There was no reason this would not go smoothly: she was good at her job. She was more than good: she was thorough, efficient and always on time. This case would not be the first failure of her career. 

But of course, now she had to work with him, which made everything more difficult. She was not particularly a team player, she was ready to admit that, but objectively, he was just unprofessional. How was she supposed to produce the same results - or better - when her every move was slowed down? And why was he slouched on the woman’s cushioned sofa, gliding his fingers down the swirled carvings of the armrests as though they were children on a slide ? 

“Alex!” she hushed, thrusting the tip of her heel in his leg. “Stand up!” 

“Ow!” He groaned a hushed complaint as he stood up, rubbing the impacted area with his hand. He widened his eyes in her direction but she returned nothing but a glare.

“Would you prefer peppermint or jasmine ?” interrupted the voice from the kitchen. 

“ Peppermint would be lovely, thank you Mrs. Kleaps,” she answered.

 Lorena closed her eyes and let the air stretch her lungs. She had to keep her calm. Not a trace of irritation had to perspire on her face, no, she was relaxed, and honest, and good-willing. She forged the smile on her face wide enough to express sympathy but not too wide to avoid unease-inducing insistence. She let her shoulders plump down away from her ears and imagined the string pulling her entire spine into flawless verticality from the crown of her head. It was a mental trick she had been taught in her ballet classes when she was young, and the habit had never left her. Proper posture had opened more doors than most people would believe. 

When her eyes flitted open, the curved figure of Mrs. Kleaps was tottering towards them with a gold-rimmed tray loaded with a distinctly 17th century English teapot, its three matching teacups and a plate of cookies. They waited patiently for her to join them, standing side by side, their attention locked on her like guards surveying a ceremonial procession. The rhythm of her slippers shuffling along the floor distorted time into agony.

“Please, have a seat,” she said once she put down the tray on the small table, her withered hand pointing to the couch behind them. 

“Thank you.” Lorena accentuated her smile. 

Mrs. Kleaps let the tea trickle down into the white basin of each cup then put the teapot down and brought her own cup to her lips. Each of her gestures were orderly, meticulous and imbued with the serenity of a slower pace - quite common amongst the population of her age. However, in her case, her tardiness did not seem to stem from an injury or physical strain. The more Lorena observed her, the more it seemed to be simply a preference. She imposed her pace on the world around her. In comparison, the brusque or rushed individual became needy, irrational, uncivilised. 

Mrs. Kleaps would not win any delaying game with her: Lorena would not let them become beggars to the master of the clocks. This case had to be solved, and Lorena had a deadline to honor, and failing to do so was out of the question. 

“Strawberry jam biscuits are my favorite ! Thank you, Mrs. Kleaps, for bringing such light to my tedious day, “ squealed Alex as he helped himself to one of the sugared biscuits bejeweled with a ruby of scarlet jam in their center. 

“It is a cranberry compote. I made it with the fruits from our garden,” Mrs. Kleaps replied sternly. Her brow raised into a sneer. 

“ Well, they are to die for, Mrs. Kleaps,” Alex replied, crumbs from his first bite menacing to fall from his lips with every syllable. He cleared his throat. “And I see what you mean, the cranberry brings the acidity that makes all the difference in the world.”

“I do prefer it to strawberry, yes.”

That was enough for casual conversation. 

“We heard you were the head of the book club in the building,” Lorena stated.

“ I am indeed. I founded it. “

“ It's a beautiful enterprise and I’m sure it reinforced the feeling of community within the building. It appeared quite popular from the words of praise we have heard about it.”

“It was quite popular, indeed,”

“Did all of the neighbours participate ?”

“No, it was not that popular.”

Despite the warmth of the room, Lorena felt a chill course down her spine. So that was how it was going to go: she was going to play the long and difficult game, conceding only the bare minimum like a dog guarding his bone until it is ripped from his mouth.  

“How many were you, on a regular basis ? At least ten, no ? I heard both of the owners on floor nine avidly participated..”

“Most weeks, we were thirteen, including myself. “

“We were interested in your approach during the bookclub. Did you host a more delimited debate on a certain aspect of the book or was it more of an open discussion where personal thoughts are shared freely ?”

“I would say the latter.””

“I see.””

“Were you in charge of the choice of lecture, or was it a collective vote ?”

“I took charge of the choice. The others encouraged such a system, insisting on the fact I had solid intuitions, having been an English teacher and avid reader in my youth. “.

Mrs. Kleaps took another sip of her drink and set the cup back in its saucer without emitting a single clink. Then, she dipped her spoon and stirred the contents of her cup once before lightly tapping the spoon against the edge of the cup as though to shake the droplets off. She swirled the metal instrument against the porcelain lining, its crystal chime rising round and round, entrancing them into silence. 

Lorena repositioned herself on the couch, ironing flat the edge of her skirt with her sweaty hand. 

“In our project, building understanding and solidarity is one of our key objectives. I am personally worried about dealing with the strong emotions and opposing opinions books can provoke. How did you personally handle it ? “ she continued. 

Mrs. Kleaps pristine stare narrowed on her. She was scrutinizing her from the distance of her seat the way a hawk observed a worm from miles above, contemplating its squirm towards its goal with the knowledge it would not reach it. 

“I did not need to do much myself. Each is entitled to their opinion and to their chance of voicing it. Some books invoke such powerful feelings in individuals, they become parts of them, you know ?”

“Yes, yes. You are quite right,””

There she was drifting away again. Making substanceless answers. Spinning them round, looping them into useless chatter to derive them from truly learning anything about her just like she spun her spoon around her cup. She was wasting time, and it was truthfully, infuriatingly, unacceptably humiliating. Whether she was a naturally suspicious person, or whether she had a hunch about the true reason behind their presence, she was revealing herself unwillingly: she had something to hide. She was not revealing quite enough, unfortunately. It was time they left such an unproductive conversation. But Lorena would get her some other way, this battle was far from over. 

“Well, I -” she began.

 White flashed by her side. She turned to see Alex's hands chasing after his cup which was spurting its elixir like a fountain. Alex recovered his grip on the fleeing cup just in time but the warm water slipped by, inevitably pulled towards the floor. 

“Oh, Mrs. Kleaps ! Excuse me, the cup slipped from my hand, I -” Alex began. 

Lorena jumped to her feet. “Mrs. Kleaps, please excuse us!” she pleaded. 

There was no way she could get a break. This would only continue to brush her hair the wrong way, making any advancements on the case more complicated!

“Where could I find some paper towels to fry it up ?” Alex asked. 

“In the kitchen counter on the left,” replied Mrs. Kleaps apathetically as she stood up from her seat. 

Alex hurried to the kitchen and returned in a flash. He crouched down on his knees and began mopping the entire surface, bending down to reach the water spreading under the sofa. Once the floor had been wiped as much as possible, he stood up and returned to the kitchen to throw the damp rags into the bin. 

“Seriously ! You're incorrigible ! I mean do you even care about what we're doing here ? Contributing to the case is one thing, but making the interrogation of suspects harder is another! “ she sermoned as she strode across the street in wide strides, arms crossed against her chest, cheeks flushed from the cold of November and the heat of anger. 

They had just left the woman's apartment after bowing down their goodbyes and their hundredth apology. 

"Hey, do you know how hard it was to calculate the correct angle so the tea would spill under the sofa from where I was sitting ?” Alex retorted, running up after her. 

“Alex, I would suggest not toying with me any further, for your own health.”

“I’m serious ! We were clearly not going to go anywhere with our questions, she was way too defensive. But I had the time to look around before she sat down with us, and her apartment was enough to know something is wrong with this woman. “”

Alex buried his hand in his pocket and pulled out, with the cheeky grin of a magician, some of the paper towels she had seen moments before. They were still soggy to the point of decomposition but most importantly, they were ….. Red. Drops of scarlet were waning across the fabric. Lorena grabbed one to take a closer look. 

“I needed a way to be sure of what I had seen. Now, excuse me for my way of collecting evidence. To each their method. However, I am pretty sure that this isn’t cranberry jam,” he continued, his smile wide. He was fully aware she would have to bite her words. He had won this round. 

“We'll bring it straight to the lab for a round of check- ups. We'll not only identify the blood stains but also the origin of all the dust you collected on here, anything that could be useful. But if this turns out to be Mr. Clak's blood, “

“Not so useless now am I ?”

“Don’t push your luck. We don’t know how useful this is so far. Now come on, speed up, and if we arrive early enough I’ll buy you a box of biscuits on the way. “ she offered him a small smile. 

“The strawberry ones ?”

“Yes, as you wish.”

“Oh, thank god ! Because stuffing these beauties with cranberry jam is a real crime!