by Lea Chan
Put them all together and you have a mighty odd assortment, he reflected.
Donovan addressed the assemblage, “I would like for all of you to sit down, get comfortable.” He spoke with a soothing tone, hoping to put them at ease. There was a little shuffling as the men seated themselves in armchairs and the three women settled on one of the sofas. They were expectant and silent.
“This is a little difficult for me,” began Donovan, “but I may as well come right out with it.”
Metson, standing back to the right of his superior, had a clear view of each member of the Henley household. He, like Donovan, had been silent as the family members filed in. Now, with pencil and notepad ready, he studied their expressions as Donovan continued.
“Miz Agnes Henley died from plant poisoning. Her salad was full of poisonous weeds.”
Whatever reaction Donovan and Metson expected, they couldn’t have been less prepared for the one they got. Later, Donovan confessed to Metson that he thought each one, except maybe Kevin and Mark, was on the verge of a choking fit from repressed laughter.
Lester gasped the loudest, desperately trying to contain himself.
Startled, Donovan ignored him and persevered, “Now, I’d like to know again where each and everyone of you was between twelve o’clock and one-fifteen yesterday
“But-but,” stammered Lester, “I thought that you thought that Agnes died accidentally.”
“Hmm,” murmured Donovan, not sure what he should say and not say at this point, “be that as it may. Like I said yesterday, if anybody was here, they might of heard her cry out. If so why didn’t they come to her rescue?”
Metson wondered if his boss was going senile. Didn’t he remember what the medical examiner said? She was paralyzed! She couldn’t cry out! He ought to be asking why a cultured lady like Miz Henley would be eating weeds. However, he kept his thoughts to himself.
“Oh,” said Lester weakly, “but none of us was here,” and he thought to himself, as long as they all stuck to their alibis.
“Well, I just want to get everything clear in my mind. Kevin, son, I didn’t get to talk to you much yesterday and I hate asking you. But could you tell me your movements during the crucial time period?”
Kevin answered straightforwardly, “Oh, a little before noon, I think it was, I went downtown to do some shopping. I wasn’t hungry at first. That’s why I didn’t eat at home. But, after I got to town and was walking around, I got hungry and went to the deli.”
Donovan knew this tied in with what Mark had said, but he had to ask, “Did anybody see you during this time?”
“Yeah, sure. Lots of people, including Mark who ate with me.”
“Okay, uh, Mark, you got anything you want to add from yesterday’s account?”
“Yes, sir, I do,” he stated emphatically, startling everyone including the two policemen. “Now that you said what caused her death, well, it makes sense and we should have known something like that might happen.”
“What the hell you talking about, son?” snapped Donovan.
“The plants. She was always getting them confused. One day she was saying one plant was poisonous and the next she’d say the reverse. She was really absentminded about those plants. She was forever confusing their names and their qualities. One day she would point out one plant, call it Senekia or Shetekia and say it was poisonous. The next day she’d talk about it and call it Chinkwell or something like that and say it was harmless.”
Kevin interrupted, “Oh and just the day before yesterday, she was entertaining the Garden Club. She took them to the gardens where Mark and I were gathering vegetables.”
“You help Mark with the cooking and gardening?” asked Donovan in disbelief. He didn’t think Kevin did much of anything, certainly not servant’s work.
“No, not exactly. Mom tended the gardens but Mark picked stuff for meals usually. He was heading outside and I just sort of followed along talking about sports and stuff. I ended up in the garden with him and pitched in picking vegetables and such.”
“Okay. So did something happen with the Garden Club?”
“Yeah. She did just like Mark said. She mixed up the plants and called them Shetekia and Chenequel.”
Bernie gasped and Audrey poked her in the ribs giving her a meaningful look to keep quiet. There was no point in divulging they were hiding in the bushes. Audrey wished she could tell Bernie that Donovan didn’t have to know everything.
But Donovan noticed her reaction. “You have something to say, Miz Bernadette?”
“No, no, sir, I-I just sat on a spring or something.”
Donovan thought it highly unlikely that Agnes Henley would have had a loose spring in any of her furniture, although Mark and Kevin were unbelievably indicating that she had a loose screw.
“Now, what I want to know is why Miz Agnes Henley, nutritionist, would grow poisonous weeds in her vegetable garden?”
Metson thought that finally he had asked a relevant question.
Audrey answered, “She didn’t grow them in her vegetable garden. They were flowering plants that grew between the vegetable garden and the flower garden but she insisted that one was edible and one was not.”
“But,” asked Donovan, “why grow one that was poisonous anywhere?”
“She thought it was beautiful, gave class to the garden,” patiently explained Audrey.
“And,” inserted Penny timidly but determinedly, “she swore that the edible one was very healthy for you and cured all kinds of ailments.”
“So all of you knew about this confusion of hers?”
Everyone, except Bernie, nodded affirmatively.
“Yes,” continued Audrey, “but we didn’t think she ever actually ate any of the edible plant. We just thought that was part of her boasting, especially in front of guests.”
Donovan turned to Mark, “You said yesterday that she said she was going to gather her salad greens for her lunch and that then you left?”
Metson groaned inwardly. He felt that Donovan should have made Mark repeat his statement, not do it for him.
“Yes, sir.”
“So, let me get this straight. Yesterday you said it was normal for her to pick her own greens?”
“Yes, sir, but I was referring to lettuce and cilantro.”
“See what?”
“Cilantro. It’s an herb. She grew it along with rosemary, sage, and thyme.”
“Just like in the song.” interposed Audrey.
“We’re getting off the track here. I think, Mark, in a few minutes you need to show me this garden.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So, is this the first time that any of you know of her actually picking and eating any one of these two plants? This,” he paused, trying to remember, “this Shetekia and Chenequel?” He didn’t see the snickering smiles that passed among them but Metson did.
They nodded. Audrey added, “I can surmise that my sister decided for once to follow her own advice and try the edible plant and simply picked the poisonous one by mistake.”
“Well, that may be,” replied Donovan, “but right now all I want is straight facts. We’ll never have a way of knowing what was in her mind. Okay, we now definitely know one of them was poisonous and quick acting but was the other one really healthy?”
Again, Audrey answered for the group, gratifying Lester. He thought she was doing a fine job especially the part about Agnes following her own advice.
“I don’t think,” she said, “any of us would have any idea. It was Agnes who boasted about identifying the poisonous one and then confusing it with the other. I think we all sort of knew to stay away from both plants.”
The others nodded in agreement except Bernie who remembered Mark definitely telling her that Agnes had confused a poisonous plant for a non-poisonous one. Suddenly she understood. Audrey was making the cops think they didn’t know anything about the plants. Unknowingly, her thoughts echoed Lester’s as she realized how smart Audrey was.
Donovan
went through each person’s alibi, interviewing each one individually in the breakfast nook where Agnes had been found. The women provided alibis for each other just as they had the day before, as did Kevin and Mark for each other, but Donovan felt nothing was really ironclad, although Lester insisted he had proof of his whereabouts at all times. Penny had seemed to be the most nervous but she’d be the last one that Donovan would suspect of anything.
As he ended Mark’s interview, he said, “All right, son, show me this poisonous weed that gives class to Miz Henley’s garden.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
As Mark led the two officers down the hall past the kitchen and breakfast to the back door and out to the patio, Metson commented, “Oo-ee, boss, so this is how the rich folk live.”
Donovan nodded as he surveyed the surroundings. The pool, which ran along the side of the house into the back yard, was rectangular, having been installed more than fifty years ago before the popularity of odd-shaped pools. He wondered what could have inspired Miss Hilda Briar, who at the time must have been a middle-aged spinster, to even want one. The encircling patio was dotted here and there with luxurious yet comfortable-appearing lounge and deck chairs. The grounds between the pool and gardens were immaculately groomed and maintained.
“You do the yard work, too, boy?” Donovan asked Mark, who politely ignored the term of address.
“No, sir, Miz Agnes hires-uh-hired a landscaping service to do that plus a cleaning service for the house.”
“Must be nice,” Donovan mumbled under his breath.
They reached the flower garden first, a jumble of rose bushes, honeysuckle vines, and a hodgepodge of zinnias, pansies, and marigolds.
“Does the lawn service maintain this jungle?” Donovan asked. “It looks like something that TV lady from up East would dream up.”
“No, sir. The gardens were Miz Agnes’ domain.”
“What TV lady?” asked Metson.
“Some TV woman my wife watches. Says she can’t believe the woman herself does all that cooking, gardening, landscaping, and crafting. Some of it’s real far out. Okay, where’s that classy weed?”
“Here in the middle. Between the flower garden and vegetable garden is the herb garden, and she planted these two plants, or weeds as you call them, right here.” Mark pointed to the two plants in question, both raggedy-looking, but one did have very pretty pink blossoms.
Indicating the one with the blossoms, Donovan asked, “Is that the poisonous one? Looks like the leaves that were in her salad.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And she couldn’t remember which was which?”
“No, sir. She’d get the other herbs mixed up, too, but that didn’t really matter, of course.”
“And she was allowed to come out and pick stuff for her salads?”
“Well, it was her garden and she’d never touched those two plants that I know of, just bragged about them a lot. Uh, do you want to look at the vegetable garden?”
“Naw, I’ve seen enough. Thanks, Mark.”
“Well?” asked Metson once they were in the squad car.
“I don’t know. It must be how they say, that she was kind of ditsy. But yet, how could Miz Henley be that confused?”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. What are you going to do now?”
“Talk to Miss Shirley Gates, Director of Nutrition for the school district, Agnes Henley’s boss. She, more than anyone, should have an unbiased opinion about the state of Agnes Henley’s mind.”
“So, you think there’s a possibility that someone might have fed her those weeds on purpose?”
“Damned if I know. But why would anybody want to do that? Mark’s the only one who admits to having seen her after twelve o’clock. But, if he did something, what would his motive have been?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Miz Henley fell for his Marcel act. He had it made with her.”
“Unless she found out who he really was. But why kill her? Be more like she’d be the angry one. What’s crazy is that the others went along with the Marcel gag. They not only lived it up for Miz Henley but they still are in a way. I mean Mark’s still not acting like himself.”
“You think it could be a conspiracy?”
“How the hell’d you come up with that idea? You mean the whole bunch putting weeds in her salad or covering up for one of them that did?”
“Something like that.”
“What’s the motive? They were all living high off the hog. Why disturb the status quo? And remember, she was a dearly beloved woman.”
“Lester would be the only one with a motive.”
“Maybe you could look at it like that. Besides, I always thought they were a devoted couple. But kill her? I don’t know, his life ain’t going to change in any way as I see it. He and Kevin have never done didly. Just wouldn’t make any sense.”
“Yeah, we probably got overworked imaginations. Like you said, we ain’t going to have no fancy crime in Magnolia Creek.”
“I’d still like to know if Miss Audrey and Miss Penelope are going to stay on. But hell, Daryl, nobody had a motive to do nothing. So let’s go talk to Miss Gates. Let’s see what Miz Agnes was like on the job.”
Back at Henley House Lester proclaimed gleefully, “Mark, you and Audrey did great. Just great.”
“Dad, what are you saying?”
“Huh? Oh, I mean-uh-well, Mark and Audrey told that old hayseed Donovan what really happened.”
“Of course, Dad. What else could they have said? Mom ate some of her poisonous plants by mistake. That’s obvious.”
“I’m sorry, son. I guess I’m high-strung over all this. You’re right. How else could your mother have-have?” Not finishing his question, he broke down crying but Lester was crying from nerves, stress, and relief that Mark had unexpectedly come through for them. And to think that good old Audrey was adding her bit, too. She was damn convincing. As long as Kevin thought he was crying from grief, he wouldn’t have any reason to suspect a plot.
“Then you think Chief Donovan doesn’t suspect anything? That it was accidental poisoning?” pleaded Penny.
“Penny!” shrieked Audrey, “what’s the matter with you? Like Kevin said, what else could it be?” The little ninny would ruin everything if she let Kevin get suspicious.
“Hey, everybody, let’s get a grip. Yeah, Dad, you’re right. Mark explained Mom’s botany problems. We’re all just rattled, that’s all. Mark, fix us some lunch. Then I think we should rest and pull ourselves together. It-it’s what Mom would want us to do.”
Donovan and Metson pulled into the parking lot of the Landview Condominium.
“Miss Gates sure lives in a snazzy place,” said Metson as he glanced around at the Mediterranean style complex with shining white walls, balconied terraces, and red tile roof.
“Well, why shouldn’t she?” asked Donovan. “She’s got a good job, two good jobs, if you ask me. She’s going to be a TV personality now. She’s got to keep up appearances. Besides, I bet you’d live here if you could afford it.”
“Yeah, that’ll be day.”
Donovan ignored the comment and said, “Let’s go see her.”
“Officers, please come in.” Shirley opened her door and let them into her sunken living room. “How may I help you?”
Donovan studied her for a few minutes before answering. She was an attractive, stylish woman, probably late thirties, with medium brown straight hair and a sleek figure. He supposed she would appear well on TV.
“Well,” he drawled, “we need some information about Miz Henley.”
“Of course. I’ll tell you whatever I can. This is just so dreadful.”
“Yes, ma’am. I have a few questions here,” he said, pulling out some notes. “Can you tell us just how knowledgeable Miz Henley was about Shetekia or Chenequel?”
“Shetekia and Chenequel? Don’t tell me they had something to do with-with poor Agnes?”
“Well, we think one might have killed her.” Of course, he knew
that one of them had killed her, but he was curious to see Shirley’s reaction, if she thought it unlikely that Agnes could make such a mistake.
“My word! You mean it was murder?”
Not expecting such a vehement response, he cautiously asked, “Why do you say that?”
“Be-because you just said that one of the girls might have killed her.”
“Girls? No, I’m talking about plants.”
“But you said Shetekia and Chenequel. They’re students who used to work here in the office part-time. They worked separately at Henley House as cooks before Agnes hired Mark Robeson.”
“Then why did her family just now tell me that’s what she called her plants?” Stunned by this revelation, Donovan couldn’t believe that the Henleys, in their time of grief, would be playing games with his investigation.
His disbelief was extended when Shirley started to laugh.
Seemingly noting his expression, she apologized. “Oh, I’m sorry, Chief, but, well, you see, that was typical Agnes.” She continued to chuckle.
“What do you mean?” he demanded sternly.
“Please, don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean to be disrespectful. Agnes had a pronunciation problem, or at least I guess that’s what it was. She herself would never admit it and would get extremely embarrassed if anyone tired to correct her. She liked to put on airs about her great knowledge of nutrition and botany but she never pronounced anything accurately. Once she learned to pronounce a difficult word she would use it in place of similar words simply because she could pronounce it. Sometimes she called Chenequel, Chinkwell, and then referred to Shetekia as Senekia. It’s not surprising that she’d transfer the girls’ names to her plants, especially if the names were similar. She also mixed up things like vitamins and minerals. She’d say alphabeta carrots instead of beta-carotene. I’m not kidding. Wait a minute, what did you say might have killed her?”