by Lea Chan
Annie was having difficulty remaining quiet. Watching Shirley give Agnes even false flattery made her just a little sick, yet the whole scene played out wildly comical.
“Oh, but I wouldn’t want to stand in your way of progressing to new horizons,” protested Agnes haughtily. “I-I have twenty-five years of experience here.”
Shirley cut her short, “I know, I know. And that’s why I must stay on with you. We make such a good team, and I have so much to learn.”
After Agnes had left, Annie asked, “Was that little scene designed to get Agnes to resign?”
“Oh, Agnes will never resign. She loves the prestige of coming to work here, even if she has to play second fiddle to me.”
“Then how are you going to get rid of her?”
“Have patience, Annie. I do have a plan.”
Agnes drove home in deep depression and disappointment. But, at the same time, her mind was whirling maliciously. “So Shirley is staying because she can’t exist without my leadership. That’s understandable. I’ve become Shirley’s mentor. She looks to me for guidance. Well, I’ve had enough of the mentorship.”
She wanted the job that should rightly be hers. A few phone calls, anonymous of course, should get Miss Shirley Gates out of Magnolia Creek. In fact, she might even eliminate that TV job. And if that didn’t work, well, she had other plans at her disposal.
“Now if I could just get rid of that cheap floozy Bernadette at the same time, then my life will indeed be perfect.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
As Lester and Kevin were returning from the Chevy dealership, Lester’s thoughts dwelled on his obsession. Would one of the women actually kill Agnes? Or were they just playing along as if it were a joke? Both their actions and their expressions were unfathomable. He didn’t know how much longer he could stay married to that woman. Almost thirty years in purgatory, no, not purgatory, hell, just plain damned hell. He had stayed for Kevin’s sake but had never gotten any of that blasted money.
Kevin, though usually cheerful, seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts as he interrupted his father’s silent reverie, “What are you thinking, Dad?”
Slightly jolted, Lester took time to compose his response. “Oh, just that your mother and I aren’t getting any younger.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Well, I been thinking, that if anything happens to either one or both of us, you know that Henley House will always be home to you and Bernie.”
“Sure, Dad, I know that.”
“I mean if I should die or become disabled, your mother would want you to stay and vicy-versy if the same should happen to her.”
“Hell, Dad, why are you so morbid all of a sudden? You and Mom are still young enough, and besides, I know I’m set here for life. Cheer up.” He had started to add “old man” affectionately but thought better of it.
Lester now wondered if he should have brought up the idea of possible parental death, especially now that it seemed likely to occur. If only one of those damn women would get on the ball! But he wanted to prepare the boy. Kevin was a good son and would be the only member of the family to sincerely mourn Agnes’ passing. Of course, the good citizens of Magnolia Creek would mourn her loss. Yep, he had to give it to her, Agnes sure knew how to fool people.
As soon as they drove up the circular driveway, Kevin got out to go in search of Bernie.
Lester remained in his vehicle for a few moments, daydreaming of a time when Agnes would no longer be there and he, Lester, would be the patriarch of Henley House. Kevin and Bernie, of course, plus Audrey and Penny could stay on and be grateful for his generous charity. He wouldn’t be the dictator that Agnes was.
“Oh no, I’m going to be likable, lovable, fun! Get married again? Naw, I’m not going to fall into that trap again. Besides, this time I’ll have the money. Maybe I can get Audrey and Penny to loosen up.”
Then he remembered how he and Agnes used to double date with Penny and one of his friends. “Well hell, I can do better than double date now,” he thought, as if Agnes had already departed. “I’ll get some old friends some night while Kevin and Bernie are away and we’ll have one of them orgies. And watch Penny and Audrey boog-ie! Whoo-ee I can see them now! Henley House will finally be jumping!”
His reflections bounced back to Agnes and how years ago he had convinced her that he was impotent and could never sleep with a woman again. In her mortification, she had told everyone that he had a sleeping disorder. He had maintained celibacy in Henley House, but there was a certain little lady over in the trailer park that welcomed him once or twice a month. With Agnes removed and Penny and Audrey in place, he wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore. In fact, he might just bring his lady friend to live here in the mansion. Didn’t orgies mean the more the merrier?
A long time ago he had conned Agnes into giving him a salary so he could have a hobby working with tools. She had lectured incessantly, insisting that a hobby was respectable, but that he was in no way to say he had any kind of mechanical job. She had even let him fix up the garage with a workbench and all kinds of state of the art machinery and tools. He had never used the stuff and she had never checked to see if he was doing anything. For Agnes the spotless, shiny machinery was a source of pride and occasionally she would show off the workshop to her society lady friends. He laughed at the thought that the garage had provided not a hobby but an escape route. Once in a while he sold a tool or two and used the money plus his “salary” to pay for conjugal visits to another woman. He chuckled to himself again as he realized he wouldn’t have to pay again, that is, if someone would just get to it!
He got out of the pickup and looked up at Henley House. “Lord, how I love that name!”
Agnes couldn’t bear to live in a house that bore her maiden name and had changed Briar House to Henley House as soon as they were married. She had done it to spite Audrey more than anything, to show she was married and Audrey wasn’t.
“Wonder why Audrey hasn’t married, damn fine-looking woman spending her life dreaming for revenge and never doing nothing. Well maybe now she will, she just needs a little push”. Still staring up at the house he thought how the name suited him just fine. “And, if all goes well, it’ll soon be mine, all mine.”
Chuckling, he went into the house to wash up for the late afternoon ceremony in the library to toast Agnes’ demise.
Agnes momentarily forgot that she was either going to put a stop to the gathering in the library or monitor the little group. Before Bernadette came, Agnes had rejoiced at the thought of Lester, Audrey, and Penelope retiring to her library to read her great books of wisdom, thereby improving their minds. Inquiring into their reading choices had been her favorite topic of dinner conversation. Now, with the arrival of Bernadette, the atmosphere had changed, and Agnes did not approve. But this afternoon she was preoccupied with the shattering news that Shirley Gates had presented to her. She went straight to her suite and paced back and forth in her bedroom.
Of course, Lester, Audrey, and Penny had never gathered in the library for the purpose of attaining wisdom from Agnes’ books. During Agnes’ dinner grilling sessions, Penny would answer whatever she thought Agnes wanted to hear, and the other two improvised, smirking at each other as they recited their newly acquired, albeit false, knowledge. Agnes had never realized that when she asked Lester and Audrey what they had read that they sometimes made up titles and authors. Their gatherings in the library had evolved over the years into a ritual of bemoaning their fate at the hands of Agnes. With the arrival of Bernie, their meetings had become more boisterous, unfortunately attracting Agnes’ attention.
As he entered the library, Lester could barely wait for the others to drift in. He glanced out the window to make sure that Kevin was following his usual custom of sunning and taking a dip in the pool before dinner. He considered what a sensible kid Kevin was, always going out when there was no danger of sunburn. The freckled, fair-skinned Kevin had never been able to tan. Lester studied his own olive skin
and thought how lucky he was in that regard. Then he thought how lucky he’d be if one of his female housemates would hurry up and kill his wife.
Audrey, Penny, and Bernie soon arrived. Good, everyone was here, thought Lester.
“Has Agnes returned from her meeting?” asked Audrey.
“Yeah, I heard her moving around in her room,” replied Lester.
“Well, that’s interesting,” commented Audrey.
“Why?” asked Bernie.
“The rumor around town is that Shirley Gates is going into television.”
“And you think,” said Penny, “that the meeting was to announce the next nutritional director?”
“Exactly. And since we haven’t heard any gloating, self-praising congratulations from Agnes, it can only mean one thing.”
“That she’s been passed over again!” said Penny gleefully.
“Hey!” exclaimed Bernie, “let’s drink to that!”
They clinked their glasses to laughter and delight but Lester was dismayed. He wanted the conversation to be serious. He had told them not to discuss the plot to kill Agnes but he was worried about how they would alibi each other.
Why did he tell them they would improvise? Damn, they needed better planning. But how? It was best that he didn’t know who was going to do it. He looked at the three women. He wanted them to appear worried, concerned, not lighthearted. Hell, they weren’t even toasting her death like they usually did. He couldn’t have cared less whether Agnes was promoted or not. He wanted her dead and soon. Somebody had to kill her but how was he going to prod that someone along? Which one was going to do it?
But the women maintained their lighthearted façade.
Perhaps, they were putting on an act, not only for him, but also for each other. He could only hope.
As they seated themselves at dinner that evening, Audrey bravely asked Agnes how her meeting had gone, if Shirley Gates was indeed going on to television.
Annoyed by the question, Agnes nevertheless put on a good front and replied pompously, “Shirley has decided to remain so that she might benefit more from my tutelage.”
No one said a word but there was muffled snickering and snorting as her tablemates grabbed water glasses or ducked behind napkins. Audrey was amazed that Agnes even knew such a word as tutelage much less pronounce it.
Agnes skipped her routine questioning, and the others assumed it was because she was in a bad mood due to not being promoted. Luckily for Agnes, Mark soon appeared with the main entree.
“Ah, Marcel,” said Agnes grandiosely, grateful for the interruption, “what delicious repast do you have for us tonight?”
“Uh, muh-dom, I have le especial goulash.”
“Ohhh,” murmured Agnes, “how marvelous.”
Although he was unaware of the plot to murder his mother, Kevin was definitely a part of and amused by the act that Mark performed for his mother each night. He recalled Mark Robeson in first year Spanish class, a class that Mark had barely passed. As far as Kevin could tell the only French words that Mark knew were “le” and “merci”, which he used over and over. Once in a while, he threw in a few Spanish words, which fooled his mother and probably Bernie also, and entertained the rest of them. But what the hell, he thought, the guy could cook, no matter that it was really just down-home stuff and not that fancy cuisine his mom thought it was.
But as long as Mark attached elaborate names to his dishes, Agnes was happy. And Kevin was grateful that Mark’s cooking was a lot better than what the two home economics students from his mother’s office ever came up with. That stuff was the pits. Yep, he had to leave it to Bernie, daring Mark to work here as a French chef had been a benefit to everyone. But how the hell did Bernie come up with an idea like that? Maybe it was those goofy romance novels she read once in a while.
“Gou-lash,” pronounced Agnes slowly, “how very European and trez chick.”
Audrey who had actually been to France and could speak a little of the language chortled into her wine. She assumed Agnes was trying to say “trés chic”.
“Hey man,” said Kevin, “what all did you put in this?”
“Kevin, darling,” admonished his mother, “don’t be rude, don’t you remember that Marcel’s recipes are secret?”
“Huh? Oh. Oh, yeah, Mom. Sorry, uh, Marcel.”
“No problemo, monsoor Keveen.”
Audrey had a sudden fit of coughing as her wine went down the wrong way. Penny quickly slapped her on the back, disguising her own attempts to keep from laughing.
“But, Marcel,” continued Agnes, “this goulash is so amazing. Only the French would think to add raisins and nuts as well as stuffed olives. This is so different, so elegant,” she added as she stuffed her mouth with the hamburger-macaroni mixture.
Lester thought Mark had gone overboard with the goulash. Everything but the kitchen sink seemed to have been thrown in. Macaroni, spaghetti sauce, hamburger, and cheese would have been enough, dammit. Why the hell did he have to add all these vegetables? Damn! He hated celery and mushrooms. And peas and corn? He needed to tell Mark’s daddy to have a little talk with him.
Lester, however, was the only one who did not fully enjoy the unusual goulash. Audrey and Penny were in such a good mood because of Agnes’ losing another promotion that they couldn’t care less what Mark threw together. Agnes, Kevin, and Bernie gobbled it up, leaving Mark feeling quite proud of his creativity.
“And now,” he announced, “the piece of resistance , ze chocolaty diablo,” and saying this he produced a conglomeration of chocolate cake smothered with a mixture of whipped topping and chocolate pudding that had been mixed with chocolate-covered nuts drizzled with maple syrup.
“Ohhh, Marcel,” spewed Agnes, “You must fix this for my Garden Club. Ohhh, it is divine.”
“Wiz plezhure, muh-dom.”
While Agnes was the first to arrive for meals, she was the last to arrive for the post-dinner gatherings in the library. She liked to make a grand entrance and survey the members of her household deep in intellectual pursuits. She glanced at Penny who was deeply engrossed in Murder After Hours.
“Come, Penelope, play gin rummy with me,” demanded Agnes quietly but sternly.
“What?” quipped Lester, “you’re not going to improve your mind by watching the news or reading the newspaper?”
“Lester dear, don’t be rude. Penelope is my companion, and we love to match wits by playing cards.”
“Hmmph,” he mumbled. He knew Penny hated to play cards with Agnes and could probably beat her blindfolded. But Penny always let Agnes win, not only to placate Agnes, but also to end the game as soon as possible. He watched Penny reluctantly put down her book and slowly walk to the card table with a resigned expression on her face.
Good, good, he hoped, would this be enough to push Penny over the edge? Maybe now she would be so fed up that she’d do the deed tonight.
CHAPTER NINE
Tuesday, June 4th
After a restless night, Lester listened for sounds from Agnes’ room, hoping against hope that all would be silent and that Penny had sneaked upstairs and done away with Agnes. He hadn’t considered how the murder was to be accomplished. He just figured, “Where there was a will there was a way.” He didn’t want to know any particulars in case he had to take a polygraph test. Besides smothering her with a pillow, his own personal choice, would be to drown her in her bath, but he knew Penny wasn’t strong enough to hold Agnes’ head under water while Agnes struggled. In fact, none of the three women was strong enough to do that. And considering how fat Agnes had become, especially with Mark’s cooking, he wasn’t sure that he could do it either.
The sound of Agnes’ door opening and closing put an end to his meditations. “Damn! What a wimp that Penny is!”
Agnes seated herself in the breakfast nook and waited for her French chef to pour her first cup of coffee. She eagerly anticipated the French toast and maple syrup that made Tuesday mornings so enjoyable and continuously thought
how nice it was to have someone cultured who knew how to cater to her needs, not like the students with their surly attitudes who had preceded him.
Marcel waited on her hand and foot and seemed to enjoy the privilege. He was an elegant, elevated, dear servant but, she reminded herself, a servant nonetheless.
For his part, Mark appeared to take it all in stride. The others, knowing his charade, treated him as an equal and enjoyed his company. In fact, most of the time he felt as if he were a regular member of the household. He always laughed whenever some of the others tried to help him with a kitchen chore and Agnes would intervene, saying to help a servant was undignified, even a genuine French one.
“Ah, Marcel, such aroma,” marveled Agnes as she sniffed her coffee before tasting it.
“Wee, muh-dom, always le best for you.”
“And what are we having for dinner tonight?”
Since Marcel had arrived, meals had become Agnes’ favorite focus each day.
“My especial, le bone chili.”
“Ooh, and your chili is the very best. Tangy but not too spicy hot.”
“Tank-you, muh-dom.” He almost said “gracias” as that was easier for him to remember than “merci”. He didn’t think Agnes would know the difference between the two languages but he usually stuck with “tank-you” which impressed her to no end because she was proud of his learning English so quickly.
Audrey entered the breakfast nook. “And what are you so grateful for, Marcel?” she asked lazily.
“Ah, muh-dom was complimenting my le bone chili, which we are having tonight.”
