Who'll Kill Agnes?

by Lea Chan

  “Lester!” cried Penny, “This isn’t a joke, a game, anymore. This is real. Agnes is, uh, gone.”

  “Good, good, keep it up,” he said ignoring their little protests. “Now another thing, we never ever mention the drawing, and, therefore, no one must ever confess about having drawn the X. Now, we’re hoping that the cops’ll think like Mark and call the whole thing an accident but, if not, then that person is the suspect if somebody tells our little secret. And no matter what, don’t talk about it among yourselves. We can’t afford any finger pointing.” He especially didn’t want any fingers pointed at him if each disclosed she had drawn the X.

  Penny and Audrey stared at him, speechless. Bernie stood back and looked at everyone with a sullen expression.

  Damn, she was going to be the hard one to control, figured Lester. Why did Kevin have to marry a loose-tongue Tucker?

  “So,” he continued, “I want each of you to swear that you’ll never ever tell nobody.”

  “That’s a double negative, Les,” interrupted Penny, “two negatives make a positive.”

  “Gawdamighty! What the hell you talking about, woman? We ain’t talking grammar. We’re talking murder! Gawdamighty,” he repeated. “Audrey, do you swear you’ll never mention our plan or the X or anything?”

  Slightly bemused, she replied calmly, “Yes, Lester, I do so swear.”

  “Penny?”

  “Yes,” she said meekly.

  “Bernie?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You guess so? You guess so? No, Bernie, you have to say yes, I swear not to talk.”

  “Yes, I swear not to talk,” she countered defiantly.

  “Now, I got to go see if the paramedics can tell me anything so don’t talk about nothing except maybe practice your alibis. Get that down pat.” He left the room shaking and hoping that they wouldn’t break down and confide in each other. “Audrey’s got common sense. Maybe she’ll keep Penny who’s weak and Bernie who’s a hothead Tucker in check”. As he walked toward the kitchen, he prayed for the alibis to hold up and for his plan to succeed.

  “Are you okay?” asked Mark, putting his arms around Lester’s shoulder when Lester entered the kitchen.

  “I-I don’t know,” moaned Lester. “Mark, do you know where Kevin is?”

  “He’s downtown. He and I had lunch together at the Deli. He stayed because he said he had stuff to do. I came back and that’s when I found her.”

  “Well, somebody’s got to find him.”

  “That’s just what I was thinking but I ought to stay till the cops get here. Why don’t you go and try to find him?”

  “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

  As Lester turned to go, he felt tremendous relief. Kevin, his poor, dear son, who was the only family member who truly loved Agnes, had been downtown during the crucial time and, therefore, had an alibi, as apparently did Mark. Well, they were innocent, anyway. He just hoped none of them had to explain what they were doing. Audrey, Bernie, and he had pretty solid stories, except that damn Penny. Well, as long as Audrey and Bernie covered for her she was okay. But wait, maybe the cops would agree with Mark. An accident? Maybe that dumb doctor would say a heart attack because Agnes was fat. Could he be that lucky?

  At that moment, Officers Donovan and Metson arrived, accompanied by the medical examiner.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Lester ducked into the library as Mark opened the front door and courteously greeted the authorities.

  “Officers, if you’ll follow me, please.”

  “Hold on a minute, Mark,” said Donovan who wanted to take in his surroundings, the interior of the famed Henley House. May Belle had visited here many times but had never given him a complete picture. He and Metson stood inside the entryway, which opened onto a long hallway, and glanced around. To their right was the main staircase that led to a balcony that circled the entire second floor. Straight above them, hanging from a very high ceiling, was an enormous chandelier.

  “Man, I’d hate to have to change one of those teeny little bulbs. How on earth do they do that anyway?” asked Donovan.

  “I’ve never seen it done, sir, but I think they must do it with a very tall ladder. I’ve seen one that’s taller than the staircase in the garage. Also, they never turn those lights on except maybe when Miz Agnes has-er-had evening company.”

  “Lordy,” whispered Metson in awe of the Henley lifestyle.

  As he glanced around and up at the balcony, Donovan asked, “I see the stairs go on up to the third floor. Does anybody live up there or is that an attic?”

  “Oh no, sir, not an attic. Both Miz Agnes and Lester have their own private suites up there. The stair doorway opens onto a small hallway.”

  “They both got their own rooms?” asked Donovan in amazement. Then he looked at the doors that faced the main hallway. Just under the staircase was a closed door. To their left was another closed door.

  “Where do them doors lead to?” asked Donovan.

  “This one,” said Mark, indicating the one on the right, “opens onto the living room. The other one goes into the library.”

  “And where is Miz Agnes?”

  “She’s in the breakfast nook, sir.”

  Donovan wanted to ask what a breakfast nook was but figured he’d find out soon enough. “Well, take us there then, son,” he said gruffly.

  Mark led them down the long, wide, marbled floor of the hallway. As they passed another door on the right, Donovan asked, “What room is in there?”

  “That’s the formal dining room, sir.”

  “Oo-ee, they got rooms for each meal?” he said before realizing that perhaps he shouldn’t reveal how ignorant he was of the lifestyles of the wealthy.

  “Uh, no, sir, lunch is usually eaten in the breakfast nook or outside on the pool patio.”

  “Is that so? Well, let’s get to that breakfast nook, then.”

  Reaching the kitchen, Mark turned left and started to enter the kitchen.

  “Wait just a minute, boy,” said Donovan, “what’s this room behind the dining room?”

  “Those are my quarters, sir, a little sitting room, bedroom, and bathroom.”

  “Gawdamighty,” mumbled Donovan as he and Metson followed Mark into the kitchen. The kid was acting like he really was some kind of English butler. However, he immediately turned his attention to the kitchen with its shiny silver fixtures, glistening pots and pans, wall oven and microwave, electric range, refrigerator and freezer almost big enough to walk in, and butcher block table that formed an island in the middle of the room. The breakfast nook just beyond the kitchen formed a circular alcove that looked out onto the patio area and the gardens. Seated at the table with her head in her salad was a very dead Agnes Henley.

  Mark stepped aside and watched Donovan and Rupert Norrison, the medical examiner, as they made a visual examination of the corpse in silence. Metson stood aside and watched them, also. A few minutes later Norrison asked Mark where the nearest phone was.

  “Right here in the kitchen,” he replied, leading him back into that room.

  Norrison, a dark haired serious man who was a year younger than Donovan but much more fit physically, called the police station and, to Mark’s surprise, requested lab men and the police photographer. He replaced the phone and stood quietly.

  Donovan, who had remained in the breakfast nook with Metson, walked into the kitchen and broke the silence, “Uh, would you excuse us, Mark?”

  Mark bowed and returned to the breakfast nook.

  Donovan shook his head in amazement at Mark’s behavior then turned to Norrison, “Well, doc, what do you think?”

  “Considering she’s face down in a salad bowl full of poisonous weeds, what would you think?” Not giving him time to answer, he continued, “We’ll have to have an autopsy to make sure.”

  “What?” cried Donovan. “You mean she accidentally ate poisonous weeds? How do you know they’re poisonous?”

  “You mean a country boy like you don’t recogni
ze them weeds? Besides, I can’t imagine how anyone could force her to eat them. But that’s not my job to find out why she ate them, if indeed she did eat them. That’s your job. Finding the cause of death is my job, not the whys and wherefores. That’s why I called the lab boys, just in case you need some evidence.”

  “Wha-What?” Donovan almost choked. He thought that Norrison’s behavior was a little extreme. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one in charge? Damn, he had never had an investigation like this. Miz Henley, of all people! But no, he had to calm down. Rupert was right. He probably knew more what he was doing than he did. He hoped that Daryl and especially that damn Mark weren’t noticing anything

  Deciding he needed to do something authoritative, he walked back into the breakfast nook and asked Mark, “Okay son, what happened? Who found her?”

  “I did.”

  “Were you here while she was eating?”

  “No, sir. I had set out a soup and sandwich buffet for the family, although they don’t always eat here. No one seemed to be around except Mrs. Henley. She’s the only one who usually eats-ate-all three meals regularly.”

  “What do the others do?”

  “Drift in and out for breakfast and lunch, but most of them usually eat lunch downtown if they’re shopping or whatever. But everyone is always here for dinner. Miz Agnes wanted that meal to be a major production. She liked dining in high style.”

  “Yeah? Well, we’ll talk about that later if it’s important.” He wondered how Mark could serve anyone in high style. “So where were you while she was eating?”

  “Shopping for groceries.”

  “How come she was eating salad instead of soup and sandwiches?”

  “She said she didn’t want anything except salad and that she’d go out to the garden and pick the greens.”

  Donovan raised his eyebrows. Didn’t Mark know what he was saying? Didn’t he know that Agnes Henley’s salad bowl was full of poisonous weeds?

  “Was that normal for her to pick her own greens?”

  “Oh yes, sir, she loved that garden.”

  “So you left?”

  “Yes, so I went to the grocery store for tonight’s dinner ingredients and then to the Deli where I met Kevin. We ate together. I left him there, then came back here and found her.”

  “Hmm. And the others? Were they here when you left and when you came back?”

  “I don’t think anyone was here when I left but I could be mistaken. The house was awful quiet when I returned. When I found Miz Henley, I dialed 911, and then called out to make sure the house was empty. To my surprise, Miss Audrey and Miz Bernadette were upstairs in their rooms.”

  “Hmm, ya don’t say.” Donovan couldn’t get used to referring to a Tucker girl in such a formal manner. “And the others?”

  “Lester got here just ahead of the paramedics. As for Miss Penny, I’m not sure. My impression is that she was outside somewhere. Right now I think they’re in the library. Lester was on his way to town to look for Kevin but entered the library just as you came, I guess to tell the ladies where he was going. I don’t know if he’s still there or not. As for Kevin, I guess he’s still downtown.”

  Before he could respond, the doorbell rang. The lab men, two officers in plain clothes, and the police photographer had arrived.

  Mark led them to the breakfast nook and stood back to watch the proceedings. He figured he shouldn’t be there but since Donovan didn’t seem to know any better, Mark decided to stay until someone told him to leave.

  After photographs were taken, Norrison made a cursory examination, and then the lab men began their chores. Mark observed the silent, eerie police rituals slightly perplexed. From watching TV dramas and movies, he had assumed that the lab men and photographer would joke, laugh, and comment about the corpse and it’s surroundings as they went about their gruesome tasks, using hilarity to mask and numb whatever feelings they might have toward death. Not so, at least in this case. Perhaps his presence stifled their normal behavior but somehow he doubted that. They all knew he was Mark Robeson, son of the owner of The Cracked Cup Diner. None of them would blink an eye at cracking jokes in front of him. He finally decided their behavior was due simply to show respect for the deceased, a prominent citizen. What puzzled Mark the most, however, was why they were being so meticulous before removing the body. What made them think this was anything but an accident? It seemed to him that they were acting like this was the scene of a violent crime. This worried Mark and he hoped that he was overreacting at their procedures.

  As the lab men finished, Donovan turned to Mark, “Okay, show me the library now.” Metson stayed behind to complete his notes and watch the paramedics remove the body.

  Mark led him back to the main hallway and, as he turned to indicate the library door, Donovan continued to muse at his behavior. He had known Mark all of his life and had considered him a good kid. At the moment, Mark’s behavior was calm, professional, and respectful as due a trusted family servant, which, he thought, was completely out of character for a young man brought up in Magnolia Creek. He admitted to himself that he was impressed but damn, he didn’t know whether that was good or bad. The kid was a puzzle. That was for damn sure.

  Mark didn’t enter the library but remained by the door.

  If Mark was calm, the scene that Donovan encountered in the library was anything but. The occupants turned jerkily toward the door as it opened, mouths open and anxiety written on their faces. A very nervous Lester took charge. Donovan wondered why he wasn’t out looking for Kevin.

  “Oh, Chief Donovan, what-what has happened to my dear Agnes?”

  Donovan turned to Mark, “Haven’t they been informed?”

  “Yes, sir. I think Lester wants to know how she died.”

  “Hmmm.” He didn’t want to say more than he should. He’d never had a case like this before. At least he thought this was a case, whether or not murder was suspected. On the surface it seemed to look accidental but he wondered why that esteemed lady would eat poisonous weeds.

  Cautiously, he replied, “It appears to have been an accident. The autopsy should help.” Damn! Should he have said accident? To late he realized that he should have said they were waiting on the autopsy. But, he reminded himself, this was Miz Henley’s family. They needed to know something.

  A collective gasp escaped from his little audience. Was it a gasp of relief or something else? Suddenly, the hairs on Donovan’s neck bristled, a personal phenomenon that occurred when things weren’t just quite right. Or were they reacting the way normal people would react when informed of a loved one’s death? But then, he wasn’t informing them of the death. He knew grief and shock can cause people to act in odd ways. He’d had plenty of experience in informing families about relatives who had died in accidents but the expressions facing him were not like any he had experienced before. What had he said that had provoked them so? Accident? Autopsy? What had they been expecting?

  “Accident? What kind of accident?” demanded Lester.

  Relieved that they weren’t going to protest an autopsy as some families did, not wanting their loved ones cut up, he responded, “Something she ate or so it seems. I can’t say anything else until we get the autopsy results.”

  Horror appeared on the faces before him, causing him to realize that his relief had been premature. He knew he was going to have to tread lightly. This was a family in mourning but there were questions he wanted to ask.

  At that moment Metson entered the room. Donovan motioned him to sit down and to continue to take notes. Metson, wondering what his boss was up to, complied but thought that was a strange way to act in front of a grieving family. It looked like the poor woman had accidentally put weeds in her salad. Well maybe the chief did need to ask some questions.

  “Now,” continued Donovan, “I don’t want to upset you anymore, and I want you to know that this is just normal procedure. Even though you’re hurting bad, I got to ask you some questions.”

  There was silence from t
he group as they waited expectantly.

  “I’d like to know where each of you was during the past couple of hours.” He wanted to add that maybe if someone had been here, the accident wouldn’t have happened. Someone would have prevented her from eating those weeds but he felt giving his opinions might not be prudent and none of them yet seemed to know what had killed her. He turned to Lester, “Mr. Henley, your whereabouts?”

  Lester sputtered, tried to clear his throat, and croaked, “I-I was downtown. As I was coming home, the paramedics drove right up behind me. Sc-scared me to death.” He was still scared to death but glad that he had not gone in search of Kevin. He wanted to keep a rein on the women and watch and monitor what they said.

  “How long were you downtown?”

  “About two and a half hours,” he almost said he had plenty of witnesses but he’d read in one of Agnes’ mystery books that it was incriminating to voluntarily give away unsolicited information. Of course he didn’t think he needed to worry. That fool Donovan seemed to think it was an accident but yet why the autopsy? Anyway, if he asked him he would gladly give him the information.

  “Hmmm, Miss Audrey?”

  “Uh, Bernie, Penny, and I went shopping this morning and we got back shortly before Mark found her.”

  “None of you went into the kitchen or the-uh-breakfast nook when you got back?”

  “No, there was no reason to. Bernie and I had eaten at the Deli. She and I went straight to our rooms. Penny didn’t even come inside.”

  Donovan turned to Penny, “Where did you eat?”

  “I-I didn’t. I skipped lunch. I had a big breakfast.”

  “Then what did you do when you came back from town?”

  “I-I went for a walk in the gardens. It’s a lovely day,” she added in a timid little voice.

  The mention of gardens startled Donovan. Yet Miss Audrey had said they arrived just before Mark discovered the body. So Miss Penelope was allegedly in the gardens after the death.

  “Where did you eat, Mr. Henley?”