Who'll Kill Agnes?

by Lea Chan

  “What do you mean ‘so far’?” asked Bernie.

  Not giving Audrey a chance to respond, Penny turned to Lester and asked, “You’re being rather serious about all this, more than usual anyway. What’s up?”

  He stared at the three women for a few minutes, then said quietly, “I been thinking, you want her dead? Then let’s do it.”

  “Us?” they cried simultaneously.

  “Oh, come on, Les, you’re joking,” protested Penny. “We drink to Agnes’ death to relieve tension. It’s our way of getting back at her. None of us would do such a thing. Besides, how could we get away with it?”

  “Aha! See there. You’d do it if you thought you wouldn’t get caught. That’s what you’re afraid of.” He paused, then finally spoke in a low tone, “What if we couldn’t get caught?”

  “You mean we all do it together?” asked an incredulous Audrey apprehensively.

  “Oh, you mean like on The Orient Express!” joked Penny nervously.

  “Nope, that’s not quite what I mean,” stated Lester. “First of all, if Agnes dies mysteriously, nobody’s gonna suspect me, Audrey, or Penny. Sure, we all have motives, but, as far as I know, the police or nobody else in this town knows that. They don’t know nothing personal about any of us except you, Bernie.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “To begin with you’re a Tucker. Your daddy’s in the pen for stabbing a man to death.”

  “That’s not my fault.”

  “Of course not, but the police might just see Tucker and jump to conclusions. I bet the whole town’s going nuts wondering how you get along with your new mother-in-law.”

  “It’s none of their damn business!”

  “Yeah, well anyway,” continued Lester, “I got a plan.”

  “You are kidding, aren’t you?” cried Penny. “What are we going to do, draw straws?”

  “That’s very good Penny,” he said. “You must be reading my mind.”

  Audrey looked first at Lester then at Penny and burst out laughing, cheerily asking, “That’s the plan? We draw straws and the person with the short end kills her?”

  “Hey, that calls for a drink,” proclaimed Bernie, now getting into the game. “Let’s have a toast to Lester’s plan. And, Les, fix us some fresh drinks,” she demanded as she quickly gulped down the one she had just mixed.

  The mood of the three women lightened, and as Lester mixed and served the drinks, rum and diet cola for Penny, vodka martini for Audrey, Tom Collins for Bernie, and Jack Daniels on the rocks for himself, they thought of several more toasts dedicated to the demise of the detested matriarch of Henley House.

  While they laughed and joked about killing Agnes, Lester quietly went to a corner desk and began tearing up bits of paper and folding them. After a few minutes, he approached the three women carrying a glass tumbler with four bits of paper in it.

  “What you got there, Les?” slurred Bernie. It had never occurred to her to call her father-in-law anything other than his nickname.

  “We’re not going to draw straws,” he announced somberly. “We’re going to draw folded bits of paper. I marked an X on one of them. The person that gets the X kills Agnes. However, nobody’s going to look at the paper until each of us gets back to our rooms. Then and there we unfold the paper in the privacy of our own room, look at it, and flush it down the toilet. And sometime soon, one of us kills Agnes. We’ll never know which one, but we’ll know it was one of us. That’s why it’s important to flush away all the bits of paper, especially for the person who draws the X. Okay, you go first, Bernie.”

  “But-but the cops’ll think I did it anyway.”

  “Not if that jackass Justice of the Peace, ole stupid Quincy Martin, signs the death certificate. He’ll look at a dead, fat Agnes and say ‘heart attack’. But, in any case we’re going to alibi each other.”

  “How?” asked Audrey, “if we don’t know who or when?”

  “When she’s found dead we stick together and improvise. What’s important is that we verify each other’s whereabouts no matter what. No one would ever suspect that all four of us would be in cahoots to murder Agnes. Especially that fool Donovan, although I doubt he’ll even bother us.”

  “What if the police find her body before we all know about it and start to interrogate us individually before we can get together?” asked Penny.

  “Because whoever kills her has to make sure we’re all around. After all, it’s that dim-witted JP Martin who’ll sign the death certificate and he’ll do whatever I say. He’s just that stupid. But if for some reason that don’t happen, then just pass out from grief or go into hysterics and don’t say nothing until we’re all together.”

  “Lester, this is ridiculous,” said Audrey. “Do you have any suggestions on how this murder is to be accomplished?”

  “No,” he responded sheepishly, “but, dammit, we want her dead, don’t we? Look what she’s done to us! Whoever gets the X has to think of something, but the rest of us shouldn’t know the plan. Something accidental-like. Sleeping pills, smothering maybe.” He glanced slightly at Audrey who nodded imperceptibly.

  “All right,” she then agreed, “I think we ought to do it.”

  Penny stared in mute stupefaction as Bernie gasped, “You two are serious, aren’t you?” Not waiting for a response she stepped up and defiantly drew one of the papers from the tumbler. Audrey quickly followed her. Trembling, Penny hesitantly did likewise. Lester calmly pocketed the remaining piece.

  “Now remember,” he admonished them, “go to your rooms, look at your paper, flush it down the toilet, and we don’t mention this again until it’s time to alibi each other.”

  Silently they left the library and walked up the front staircase to their rooms.

  Of course this was just a joke, thought Penny, as she locked her bedroom door and sat on her bed. She opened her fist and unfolded her little piece of paper. “Oh no!” She gasped in horror as she stared at the dreaded X!

  Lester lay on his bed and laughed himself silly. He had marked X on all four pieces of paper. Now to see if anyone of them had the guts to do it. As he lay there giggling, he heard three toilets on the floor below him flushing.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The same day

  While the various members of the Henley household pursued their individual or collective enterprises, Mark was busy in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on his latest culinary creation. He chuckled to himself as he considered that the more absurd the ingredients he added to his dishes, the more the Henleys liked them, not only Agnes, but the others as well, who were certainly aware of his masquerade. Tonight he would serve a pot roast with assorted vegetables marinated and roasted in a cheap generic cola and orange soda. The carbonated beverages mixed with pan juices produced a tangy gravy, which he was sure would bring accolades from the whole family. He had decided to keep his ingredients secret, therefore giving him an aura of mystery and genius. Agnes thought he was a French chef. The rest of the Henley household regarded him as an excellent down-home cook who had learned his trade at The Cracked Cup, which was partially true. While his father stuck to basic and traditional recipes, Mark liked to experiment by throwing in unexpected spices and ingredients.

  His only regret was revealing the ingredients of his “homemade” chili, the Henleys’ favorite meal, to the family. At least Agnes was still ignorant of his secret but he had mentioned it to Kevin and Lester when the compliments were heaped upon him. Obviously Kevin and Lester had told the chili secret to the women, who continuously asked him when he would prepare the meal again, smirking as they did so. The recipe had been his mother’s, and from that innovation, he was sure, came the inspiration to experiment with unusual ingredients.

  Knowing that Agnes, always punctual for meals, would soon arrive for dinner, Mark quickly entered the dining room, one of two rooms opposite the library, and began setting the grandiose mahogany table that complemented the wet bar in the library. Above the table hung an enormous crystal cha
ndelier, twinkling multitudes of reflected light. The family ate in style every night. What a life, he mused.

  Agnes, meanwhile, continued her preparations for dinner. She never joined the foursome in the library, giving them free time to pursue quiet literary meditations while she did likewise in her third floor suite. Lester’s smaller suite was across the hall from hers, and, by unspoken agreement, neither invaded the sacrosanct privacy of the other.

  After her aunt’s death, Agnes had moved into Hilda’s elaborate suite but had felt uncomfortable there. Marrying Lester had helped alleviate the uneasiness but with Kevin’s arrival and the beginning of Lester’s sleeping disorder, she had had the servants’ quarters on the third floor turned into suites for them. At the time of Hilda’s death there was no longer any household help living on the premises. The housekeeper, Edna, had stayed on for a while and had commuted from her farm in the country. She had adored Hilda and had greatly admired Agnes but her husband wanted her to retire in order to care for him, which she did. Agnes then hired a cleaning service to come in twice a week to care for the elegant mansion. The arrangement had worked splendidly for more than twenty-five years. Kevin was placed in Hilda’s suite where the blue chintz walls had been covered with a cowboy motif. He had received every luxury a rich child could possibly have. The two other bedrooms on the second floor eventually went to Penny and Audrey. The new chef had rooms across from the kitchen and behind the dining room. Her house was put to fine use she assured herself.

  Following her usual routine, Agnes mixed a vodka martini, a taste she shared with her sister, and toasted herself in her full length mirror. Suddenly she heard Lester come up the stairs and enter his rooms. How strange, she thought, since he usually didn’t come upstairs just before dinner. She finished her drink, combed her hair, straightened her dress in preparation for her graceful descent down the stairs, then walked across the hall, and knocked on Lester’s door.

  “Lester dear, it’s dinner time. Don’t be late.”

  She heard a muffled sound but couldn’t make out what he said.

  “Did you hear me, dear?”

  Finally a croaking “yes” answered her.

  “Well, come along then,” she said as she began her descent.

  Inside his room Lester was trying to muffle his laughter. Reluctantly, he pulled himself together, flushed his own bit of paper, and began to ready himself for dinner, a dinner that, for once, he was looking forward to.

  “We all seem to be a little late this evening,” Agnes said to Mark upon entering the dining room.

  “Yes, muh-dom, but eet ees all right.”

  “Oh, you are so congenial, Marcel. What are you serving us tonight?”

  “Le potte roaste with the veggie-tables cooked alongside eet. Very especial herbs. Very especial gravy sauce. You will like.”

  “Oh, I am sure we all will. Thank you, Marcel,” she said as he pulled out her chair at the head of the table.

  Audrey was the next to arrive. Her slim, elegant figure was attired in a flattering beige suit similar to the one Agnes was wearing. Her blonde hair was swept back into a French chignon, which gave her a much younger appearance than her age of forty-eight would indicate. Although Agnes was eight years her senior, she looked even older in comparison to her younger sibling.

  She gazed sternly at Audrey. “Really, dear, that color does not flatter blondes. I think navy blue or charcoal gray would be better.”

  For once Audrey did not respond with a sarcastic retort. She merely said, “It looked lovely in the store.”

  “Well, you should try things on before you buy them. I pay you a good salary in order that you maintain the proper public image. We have a family name to uphold.”

  Agnes appeared not to notice that Audrey seemed distracted as she ignored a statement that normally would have provoked a stronger reaction. Had Audrey been her normal self, she would have responded with a sharp retort cloaked in sweetness and gratitude, knowing that Agnes very seldom comprehended sarcasm.

  For her part, Agnes was irritated that her advice, which she thought should have been received thankfully and gracefully, had fallen on deaf ears.

  Penny entered next, dressed in the navy blue that Agnes had prescribed for Audrey. Her medium-length, curly brown hair was combed neatly, framing a pretty, heart-shaped face that, at the moment, displayed somber and perhaps fearful big brown eyes. Like Audrey, she appeared much younger than her fifty-one years.

  Although Agnes was seldom in tune to the emotions of her companions, she did notice Penny’s expression and demeanor as well as Audrey’s. She wondered if there had been an argument in the library. It was high time she put a stop to that little gathering, especially now that Bernadette had joined the family. She shuddered at the thought. Or perhaps she should join them for meditations and monitor her behavior. Bernadette should learn something from her before Agnes got rid of her.

  Lester bounced in interrupting her thoughts. “Good evening, good evening,” he announced cheerily, and asked, glancing around, “where are the newlyweds?”

  “Thank goodness you are all right, Lester dear. I thought perhaps I heard you coughing a few minutes ago.”

  Eyes dancing, Lester responded, “I feel great. Couldn’t be better.”

  “Well, you must take care of yourself, dear.”

  At that moment, Bernie strolled in indolently, wearing a bright floral-print short dress that was sleeveless and clung to her skinny figure. Her stringy blonde hair drifted listlessly about her face.

  “Really, Bernadette,” said Agnes, using the same tone with which she had admonished her sister, “that dress is inappropriate for dinner and you need to fix your hair.”

  Unlike Audrey, Bernie was her normal self and snapped back. “Oh, really? I like it and Kevin likes it and that’s all that matters,” she replied defiantly. She loved goading her mother-in-law, knowing that Agnes wouldn’t push too far for fear of alienating Kevin.

  “Now look at Penelope,” continued Agnes, “in her blue linen suit and silk blouse. She is dressed conservatively and that’s how you should dress.”

  “No kidding?” Bernie winked at Penny who gave only a glimmer of a smile.

  Lester broke in, “I think all the ladies of Henley House look magnificent,” nearly choking on his own laughter. He assumed that Penny and Audrey’s demeanor was due to the drawing and that they were taking it seriously. Nothing could have pleased him more, for the moment anyway.

  “I see nothing funny, Lester. I am merely giving my apparently much-needed expertise on evening wear.”

  Fortunately for the others, Kevin arrived, pecked his mother on the cheek, winked at Audrey across from him, and sat down, lightening everyone’s mood. “Sorry I’m late. Where’s the grub?”

  Not wanting to chastise her precious son, Agnes ignored his question and began her nightly ritual of asking each member of the household to state an accomplishment of the day. To Agnes this was the “genteel” way to begin dinner.

  As Mark served salads, she asked Kevin how his swim in the pool had been.

  “Great, Mom, great as always.”

  “Lovely, my dear, and Bernadette, what did you accomplish today?”

  “I bought this dress.” Since it was Sunday she had done no such thing but Bernie didn’t think twice about lying to her mother-in-law.

  Before Agnes could reprimand her, Lester, sitting at the opposite end from Agnes, between Bernie and Penny, piped in. “I made a toast to your health, dear Agnes. You know, you and Kevin ought to join us for cocktails once in a while,” he cackled as he saluted her with his glass.

  “Dear Lester, how sweet of you. Maybe I will join you soon but more for meditation than cocktails. Penelope and Audrey are much too quiet this evening. I hope there weren’t any arguments. We must have a peaceful home,” she said, staring at Bernie.

  “Hey, don’t look at me. We didn’t argue.”

  From Lester, Agnes turned to Penny, “Well, Penelope, how was your day?”
/>   “Fine. I read one of your Agatha Christie novels.”

  Penny was the only member of the household who, on a daily basis, told Agnes what she wanted to hear and let the others, mainly Lester and Audrey and now Bernie, indulge in cynical repartee which usually escaped Agnes’ comprehension. Penny figured that the less she said, the easier her life would be. Kevin blissfully did and said whatever he wanted, as he knew he could do no wrong in his mother’s eyes.

  “That’s lovely, Penelope. Just lovely. Improving your mind.”

  Penny, five years younger than Agnes and better read than Agnes would ever be, just grimaced and stared into her salad.

  “And you, dear Audrey?” she asked condescendingly.

  Audrey, who sat between Agnes and Penny, glanced sideways at Penny. She said somberly, “I also read one,” which was not true. Audrey’s reading tastes ran in the direction of mainstream romance authors or fashion magazines. She had never touched Agnes’ collection of Christie novels, not realizing they had originally belonged to her dear Aunt Hilda. Tonight, however, she was not in the mood for a confrontation with her sister.

  “Splendid!” approved Agnes. “Now you see, Bernadette, that’s what you should have done. Read a book and acquire culture.”

  “Hey, that’s not a bad idea. I think I’ll read that one about Death on the Nile. I sort of saw it on TV once.”

  “Splendid! Splendid!” An unusually energetic Lester mimicked his wife. “Let’s drink to Death on the Nile!” He almost choked on his own laughter causing Mark, who was removing the salad bowls, to stumble. Luckily, Mark regained his composure without a mishap.