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1.
“...thank you. I’ll message you the hairdresser's details and so on by this evening. It was nice talking to you, Ms.Brand.” Benoit stands to shake Helen’s hand after exchanging phone numbers with her.
“Please, call me Helen. And thank you, again.” They go back inside to find the man who greeted her kneading dough on the island’s countertop. He looks up at them.
“Oh, are you leaving? I can make you some lunch if you’d like, it’ll only take me a minute.” He wipes his hands on a towel.
“No, no it’s alright, thank you, uh,” Helen didn’t get the chance to properly meet the man when she came in. Benoit was immediately ready to meet her, seemingly too focused on her to introduce him.
Who was he? Benoit’s butler? Chef? No, he’s dressed too casually for that. But he called the detective by his last name, so is he here in a professional capacity? Unless it was because he just wanted to remain professional in front of her. She saw a framed photo of him and the detective hanging on a wall. Brother then? They don’t look similar though. Probably a friend he’s quarantining with then.
“Phillip, sorry, my husband was overly excited at the prospect of a new case to introduce us.” He shakes her hand and glares at Benoit, who looks away guiltily.
Oh.
His husband. Damn it, Helen. And she was the cool, progressive teacher! Seems like her southern, semi-religious upbringing still has its roots in her.
“It’s nice to meet you too.” She peeks at his other hand; no ring. Phillip notices.
“I take mine off while baking, and Blanc often forgets to wear his.” He says. Benoit walks to his side and wraps his arm around his waist.
“Occupational hazard. I don’t want to risk losing it while chasing suspects.” Benoit explains. She worries for a second that maybe it’s a point of contention in their relationship, but the pair share a short look with loving smiles and creases in the corner of their eyes, and her concerns are put to rest.
“But Helen, if you’d like to stay for tea, feel free! We don’t mind.” Blanc reiterates.
“No, it’s alright. I have some quizzes I need to grade, but thank you for the offer, it’s very kind.” She isn’t lying. Before she took a break from teaching, her third graders took their first quiz on the solar system. Her substitute offered to grade it, but she wanted to see her students’ progress, and she knew how most of them liked the little annotations she added to their work. That's why she’s the cool teacher.
Blanc leads her to the front door.
“See you soon, Helen.”
“Thank you, Mr.Blanc.” She shakes his hand.
“Please, just call me Blanc.”
2.
Claire takes the throat spray badly. She coughs at the liquid shot down her throat. It’s very unpleasant. Tastes a little bit like disinfectant, but diluted. Hopefully it actually protects her from Covid, otherwise she’ll be scrutinised for this whole trip.
Claire turns to see Birdie very clearly flirting with the detective. She’s touching his collar and asking him what it’s made of, and Blanc says that he thinks it’s cotton.
It looks like a normal shirt to Claire. Birdie is known to be very into the “rugged” look, but Blanc seems like a combination of that and a sense of elegance and grace. His taste in fashion seems to be on point, which is probably what attracted Birdie to him first, before anything else.
She can’t see Blanc’s expression behind his sunglasses and mask, but he seems unbothered, and unaffected by Birdie’s advances. Maybe even slightly displeased?
Miles’ guy comes up to Blanc and asks him to pull down his mask. Blanc, understandably, first asks what the thing is, but the guy doesn’t budge and Blanc gets the spray.
Except he doesn’t gag. He just politely coughs after and takes his mask off when the guy says that he doesn’t need it anymore.
Claire doesn’t know why she notices, she just does. Everyone else very loudly gagged, but not Blanc. She tries to connect the dots.
Oh.
Ohhhhh.
She recalls an old politician she knew from her early days in politics. From what Claire understood, an opponent shot water from a water gun into his mouth once, and when he didn’t gag and just swallowed it calmly, the opponent used it as evidence of him being a homosexual. She heard that the opponent already had evidence, but wanted public proof of it or something. It was a pretty significant scandal, (for the tiny area she was in) that ended in the politician dropping out of the race.
Blanc was gay. Or at least, some variation of gay. It explains his flamboyant taste in fashion, that’s for sure. Wait, no, that’s a stereotype. As a progressive politician, you should know better, Claire.
3.
“The question isn’t why’d he invite her. It’s why did she show up?” Lionel states, watching Andi carefully.
“A mystery to be solved in the following days, I’m sure.” Blanc seems to ponder for a second, “you and Claire seem close. Closer than either of you are with the rest of the group.”
“Oh, you noticed? Yeah, well, we both say that we’re the adults of the group. We just tend to stick,” Blanc says nothing, insinuating something without saying anything, “Oh, no, no, not like that, I assure you. Claire’s happily married, and I’m, well, not really interested in romance.”
“Ah, I see,” Blanc nods in understanding, “I hope I didn’t offend you by prying.”
“No, not at all. It’s understandable. You’re not a part of the group, so I can see why you’d be curious about our dynamics.” Lionel says. Now he wants to ask Blanc the same question. If he knew he’d be coming, he’d have Googled him and tried to get some background knowledge on the detective. Lionel liked knowing things. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the luxury of knowing anything about Benoit Blanc.
“If I may ask as well,” not that Benoit actually asked, but oh well, “do you, uh,” how was he supposed to phrase this? Birdie always made fun of him for not ‘getting romance’, seems like she was right, “have anyone, waiting for you? At, uh, home?” Lionel regrets asking him.
“Yes, my husband, Phillip. He’s my better half.” Blanc smiles joyfully at his own words.
Oh. A husband. He didn’t really have any thoughts about that, and he wasn’t sure what to say. What do you say? It’s not like it’s weird. Lionel’s just, very awkward.
“What does he do?”
“He’s a lawyer. Though now during lockdown, he’s more of a baker, if I’m being honest. He’s actually pretty good.” Blanc answers, looking towards the sea fondly.
Huh. Lionel can see that. He can see Blanc coming home, to a man with flour-stained hands, to the smell of freshly made dough baking in the oven. That idea of domesticity fits like a puzzle piece to what little he knows of Blanc.
“A lawyer and a detective. You must’ve met during one of your cases?”
“No, during a gala thrown by an old client of mine, actually. Most people would think so. Ironically, on our second date, we both got embroiled in a murder investigation,” Lionel somehow isn’t surprised. He has the feeling that cases often found Blanc, instead of him looking for them, “it bothered me to no end, still does, but Phillip tells me how charming he found me, and how attractive my intellect was to him while I was helping solve it, so I guess it wasn’t too bad.” Blanc’s smile grows even wider at the memory.
“He sounds like a great guy.”
“He is. I miss him already.”
4.
Miles walks back outside with Blanc, and the Ionian sun smiles down at them.
“Hey, we luckily have another guest villa. I’ll take you to it.” Miles tells him.
“How fortunate! And thank you, again.”
“No worries. It’ll be fun to have an actual detective helping everyone out, though I think you’ll have trouble with the puzzle as well.”
“I’m sure it’ll be lovely.”
As they walk, Miles tells Blanc all about the architecture used to create the gardens.
“I just really wanted it to feel… infinitesimal, you know?” Blanc nods, “An old girlfriend of mine actually helped design this little zen garden,” he points to an area of sand with bonsai trees and wooden sculptures. There’s a hammock hung between two trees, “we broke up a while ago, but this space really helps me innovate.”
“An old flame helped you ignite the future.” Blanc offers.
“Very poetic, detective, yes. If I can just ask, you don’t have a ring but I’m assuming you’re committed?”
“I am, yes. Happily married for over a decade. I don’t wear my ring because of my occupation. When I used to wear it, it would get dirty often.
“I wonder what kind of women caught the eye of the world’s grea-”
“My husband is one of a kind.” Blanc interrupts. Miles stops in his tracks.
Oh. He wasn’t really expecting that. He had gay friends, sure, but he still imagined Blanc as the type to have been a womaniser in his early days, and that he then settled down with a nice lady, (maybe some widow he helped on a case).
“Sounds cool. Anyways, here’s your villa.” They reach the front door and Miles signals to Blanc to use his biorhythm monitor to open the door. Blanc thanks him, and Miles leaves.
Knowing Birdie, she’ll probably try and seduce him. Maybe he should tell her? No, it doesn’t really matter. It’ll be funny to watch.
5.
Whiskey walks up to the group sitting in the shade.
Blanc picks up a magazine from the coffee table. Birdie, (not at all subtly) sits basically on Blanc’s chair and leans on him.
“Oh, look at this blast from my past! Look everybody!” Birdie shows off the magazine to everyone. Miles just seems to be absentmindedly smiling at Birdie. But Blanc instead seems pretty uncomfortable. When she sat down, his lips were slightly pursed, and his brows were furrowed. He then composed himself and smiled casually. It was a small moment, but Whiskey saw it.
She sits down, Miles puts his hand on her calf. Whiskey didn’t mind him, and sometimes he was really sweet, so she didn’t have to pretend around him. Sometimes Miles’ tangents were a little weird, but she could overlook it.
Then Birdie bites her lip and looks Blanc up and down while he asks Miles a question. Blanc completely ignores her.
Huh, interesting. Duke has told her that Birdie has no trouble seducing men. More often than not, they come up to her, from his experience. But then again that’s what Duke told her. Maybe he was just being nice since she’s his friend.
But Birdie was objectively pretty hot, especially for her age. Blanc seems like the type of man to be into women like her, fashion-savvy, beautiful, and wise, (though maybe that last one doesn’t apply to her).
Birdie then sits on the chair beside Blanc, but she stretches out her legs onto his lap. Oh, he seems even more uncomfortable. He swallows and clutches the magazine closer to his chest. He smiles tensely.
Hm. Whiskey purses her lips in thought. He’s probably married already. Whiskey bets that he’s just loyal to his wife or something. She’ll ask him about her later, just out of curiosity.
------
As Whiskey leaves her and Duke’s room, Blanc comes out of his, coincidently opposite their’s.
“Oh, Whiskey, hello. Do you by any chance know where there’s a kitchen? Or any snacks, I’m feeling a bit peckish.” Blanc says, his hands behind his back and smiling kindly at her.
“The kitchen’s a bit far from here, but we have snacks in our room, if you don’t mind Duke-branded doritos.”
“Ah, well, do you have any normal chips?” Blanc asks meekly.
“I think so. Come on in, I’ll check.” She beckons him inside, and Blanc nods in thanks.
She checks the mini fridge near the wardrobe, and finds some kombucha, (this time it was Chris Pratt’s) and dried fruits, (including pineapple, Whiskey will admonish Miles next time she can).
“You’re in luck. We have better than chips- fruits. Here you go.” She gets it out and passes it to her.
“Thank you, Whiskey. My fridge was empty, not sure why, but oh well.” Blanc goes to leave, but Whiskey stops him.
“Hey, I saw how Birdie was, like, bothering you. When we were all sitting together. Sorry about that, I’m sure it must’ve been unpleasant.” Whiskey says sympathetically.
“Oh, it’s alright, thank you.” He says, turning to her fully and smiling, not unlike her dad smiling at her.
“I’m sure your uh,” She looks at his hand - no ring, better play it safe “partner would appreciate you staying so, uh, loyal.” God, she just made this awkward.
“Ah, don’t worry about it. My marriage has lasted as long as it has because of mutual trust.” Blanc smiles fondly at the mention of his marriage. Whiskey assumes that he doesn’t wear a ring because of his job. She’s sure that being a detective means getting your hands dirty pretty often.
“It’s nice that you have such a good relationship with your wife.”
“Husband. My husband.” Blanc corrects her.
Oh. Shit. goddamnit. Fuck, why did she assume? Shit.
“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry, it was dumb of me to assume.” Whiskey apologises.
“It’s alright. Assumptions are part of human nature. Thank you for the fruits again.” Blanc gives her a little wave and leaves.
Now it makes even more sense why he was uncomfortable with Birdie. Not just because he’s married - because he’s also gay! Whiskey did get some gay vibes from him. But maybe she’s just thinking that now that she knows.
Someone should probably tell Birdie.
6.
Birdie lays on her couch, bored out of her mind.
Her remaining manager made her sell most of the things in her apartment, so there’s not much to look at. The moving company is coming in tomorrow to take her remaining furniture, and she’ll then be ready to move into a smaller apartment.
“Pe-” Right, she resigned. Almost immediately after they came back from Miles’ island, even before his trial, Peg left. Birdie still feels betrayed by her. She could’ve at least waited until after the trial.
Apparently, she managed to get a position as an assistant using one of the many contacts she made from working for Birdie. So basically, Birdie made her career.
Now she has to suffer, and she’s trying to earn at least some money from her own NFTs. The guys she’s working with promised her triple the price it took to invest, and she trusts them, (though her wealth manager was advising against it, but what does she know? She’s old, and Birdie knows how into it everyone is!).
Birdie wonders how that handsome detective is doing.
She was instantly pulled to him. His incredible sense of style, his charming accent, his rugged, refined look. Why wouldn’t she try flirting with him?
Looking back on it, she thinks that she was being too forward, and that probably put him off. He was clearly a gentleman, so he probably wished to take things slow. It’s why she was hoping to solve Miles’ mystery with him, so that they could get to know each other.
Unfortunately that did not happen. Instead, that whole ordeal resulted in her losing much of her wealth and status. The Bangladesh story did break, but Miles wasn’t there to fully back her, so she has been living on the edge of poverty, basically. Somewhat.
Maybe she should Google him? In case she ever encounters the detective again.
She opens up his Wikipedia page, and begins reading it.
“Benoit Marie Blanc, born- Ooo, he’s older than he looks! Is a bla, bla, bla,” she reads through it out loud, getting to the info box, “Education: bla, spouse: Phillip- wait, spouse?” She doubles back: ‘Phillip Blanc’. There’s no link to his name.
She scrolls down further to ‘Personal Life’:
'Blanc is openly gay. He began dating Phillip Blanc in 1996, and they were wed in 2006.'
He’s married?
Oh.
“He’s gay!?”