Who'll Kill Agnes?

by Lea Chan

  “Her family said she called a poisonous plant either Shetekia or Chenequel and that she was forever confusing it with a nonpoisonous one. Her salad and her stomach were full of the poisonous one.”

  “Oh no! That’s horrible! Then you do know what killed her. But it would be completely in character for her to do that, not only to confuse the girls’ names for the plants but to forget which one was poisonous. Wait a minute.” She turned to a shelf, took down a book, and flipped the pages. “Here, is this the poisonous plant that she ate? Its Latin name resembles Senekia, which is what she sometimes called Shetekia. At least it would to Agnes. She really was sort of a female Archie Bunker when it came to pronunciation of strange words.”

  Ignoring the last comment, he looked at the illustration and replied, “Yes, that’s the one all right. Damn salad bowl was full of the stuff and it was growing in her garden.” The reference to Archie Bunker irritated him. May Belle sometimes teased him about his speech resembling that of the TV character.

  “Oh, what a terrible way to die,” she lamented as she read some of the description.

  “Uh, ma’am, just what were you doing yesterday at lunchtime?”

  Metson, who had been silently observing the interchange, thought that was just what he was wondering. She seemed to know quite a bit and had plenty of ready answers.

  But Shirley’s answer put an end to both of the officers’ suspicions. “What? Why-why my secretary and I had a business luncheon with some school board members. Then I came home to get some work done.”

  “I see. Just had to check. Routine, you understand. But one thing I don’t understand.”

  “What is that?”

  “Why didn’t her family tell me those were the names of two girls who had worked there? Surely they knew them by name.”

  “Well, Mark and the daughter-in-law might not have known. They both came after Shetekia and Chenequel had left. As for the others, I don’t know. Maybe they were in shock or something. You’d-uh-have to ask them, I guess.”

  As they drove away from Shirley Gates’ condo, Donovan asked Metson, “How do you feel about what she said?”

  “I don’t know. Like you said, her opinion should be unbiased. She must’ve been telling the truth so I’d say it was an accident. Except I can’t see why the family didn’t explain about those girls’ names.”

  “Yeah, let’s go back and get that straightened out. You know, I get the feeling that they’re all kind of making fun of Miz Agnes. Why even Miss Shirley laughed at her mixing up girls with plants. You remember how Miz Bernadette gasped when those names were mentioned? Supposedly, she didn’t know those girls. And the rest of the family, they’re not acting respectful enough.”

  “Damn!” exclaimed Lester, peeking through the front library window. “Here come the Keystone Kops again.” Reluctantly he walked out into the hall and opened the front door.

  “Sorry to interrupt your afternoon siesta,” said Donovan, “but I got one or two things I need to get cleared up. Is everyone still in the library?”

  “No, they’re finishing lunch in the breakfast nook.”

  Donovan winced. He couldn’t believe that a mourning family would be eating in a room where a loved one had just died. Was this the kind of strange attitudes that rich people had?

  “Well, could we join them there for a few minutes?”

  “Sure,” replied Lester, resigned to whatever Donovan was up to.

  “Excuse me, folks,” said Donovan as he entered the small room, “there’s something I want to ask you. I just learned that Shetekia and Chenequel were girls that had worked here before Mark came. Why didn’t you tell us that before?” He eyed the sleepy-looking little group menacingly, suddenly thinking that their expressions could also be described as sheepy-looking. Nothing like being an authority figure, he thought.

  “What?” gasped Bernie.

  “You didn’t know about those girls, Miz Bernadette?” Donovan asked accusingly.

  “No, no, I had heard Agnes call the plants that,” she mumbled, glancing warily at Audrey. Donovan caught the look.

  “And when was that?”

  “When she was in the garden.”

  Audrey interrupted, “Yes, the day the Garden Club came, on Monday. Bernie and I went out for a walk. When we came to the bushes by the garden we overheard Agnes’ dissertation. Isn’t that right, Bernie?”

  “Yes, it sure is,” she replied grateful for Audrey’s timely explanation but wondering what a dissertation was.

  “Hmm, Mark, did you know those girls?”

  “No, sir. I only heard those names applied to Miz Henley’s plants.”

  “And the rest of you?”

  “Yeah,” said Lester. “We knew the girls, but we didn’t think they had anything to do with Agnes’-uh-poisoning.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I want to know why you didn’t tell me about her confusing the girls’ names with plant names.”

  “Oh hell, Chief,” wailed Kevin, “it just never occurred to us. I mean that Mom got confused with words and names. But I-I don’t think any of us were deliberately withholding information. I mean, you had just told us how she died.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Lester, “ we were thinking about poor Agnes, not them girls.”

  “We were in a state of shock,” added Audrey.

  Feeling foolish for having misinterpreted their grief, Donovan nonetheless turned to Penny for one last corroborative answer.

  “Miss Penelope?”

  “I-I agree with the others. I never considered the girls at all,” she squeaked, barely audible, and flinching at Donovan’s persistent use of her full name.

  “Very well,” he replied pedantically. “I just wanted to clear that up. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll let you know tomorrow if there’s going to be an inquest and when you can make arrangements for the funeral.”

  After the officers had gone, Lester said to the group, “Damn stupid cops! Did they think those girls poisoned Agnes just because she confused them with plants? It was an accident, dammit! A couple of incompetents, if you ask me! A damn Laurel and Hardy!”

  “Come on, Dad, calm down. They’re just trying to do their job.”

  Lester looked at his son. “I know. You’re right. I’m just grieving so.” And why was he complaining if the cops suspected those girls? Now, that was damn funny. But no, they had to think it was an accident.

  “What now, Chief?” Personally Metson thought Donovan didn’t know beans about conducting interviews with society folk and had bungled this one with the Henleys. But, what the hell, he thought, it couldn’t matter since those girls couldn’t possibly be involved. “Are you going to interview those girls?”

  “What on earth for?”

  “Their whereabouts yesterday at noon.”

  “Daryl, are you crazy? Those girls don’t have nothing to do with this.”

  “Oh, I agree. I just thought maybe you wanted to cover all possibilities.”

  “Well, that one’s a little far fetched. However, we might ask them about Miz Henley mispronouncing their names. You remember a while back when we was driving around here, wondering what goes on behind closed doors?”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “We still don’t know how Miz Henley felt about her new daughter-in-law.”

  “Well, the others seem to be fond of her.”

  “Yeah, and Miz Agnes was the charitable one in the family. She had such an influence on them that they’re still following her lead and being kind to Miz Bernadette.”

  “Too bad Miz Henley had that pro-noun-ciation problem,” commiserated Metson.

  “Yeah, too bad,” agreed Donovan who at times had the same problem. But, he thought to himself, damn if he would ever eat poisonous weeds!

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Rupert Norrison called Donovan later that afternoon.

  “Whatcha got, Doc?”

  “I doubt if it’s important one way or the other, but I thought maybe you ought to know.”
<
br />   “What’s that?”

  “Agnes Henley dyed her hair.”

  “So what? She was mid-fifties or so. Lots of women do that when their hair starts turning gray.”

  “That’s just it. She had very little gray hair, hardly any, in fact.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “Her roots are black.”

  “Black? But her hair’s red.”

  “Because she dyed it.”

  “Man, I’ve known Agnes Henley for say, hmm, twenty-five years. She always had red hair.”

  “Well, she was born a brunette. But what gets me is that kid of hers.”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s a natural redhead.”

  “So?”

  “Look how dark Lester is. Two dark-haired people having a redheaded kid? I need a refresher course in genetics. Maybe it’s possible. Talk to that sister of Agnes. Maybe she knows of a red hair gene in the family. After all, she’s a blonde.”

  “Yeah,” interrupted Donovan, “but maybe she dyes her hair, too. She looks like she spends a fortune at the beauty salon.”

  “Well, could be. Anyway hair color didn’t contribute to Miz Henley’s death.”

  “You’re right. It’s curious, but I got more important business than worrying about red-haired genes.”

  “You got any theories on how it happened?”

  “What? You mean her death? Circumstantial evidence points to an accident. Seems that Miz Henley actually had a habit of confusing poisonous plants with nonpoisonous ones.”

  “That don’t sound right with her being who she was and all. I thought she was supposed to be a right knowledgeable lady.”

  “Well, according to all and asunder who knew her, she was just the opposite. Even her boss corroborates her family. They all seemed to think she was loony. Can you believe that? That dear sweet lady. Anyway, thanks for the hair diversion.”

  As Donovan put down the phone, Metson asked, “What was that all about?”

  Donovan explained what Rupert had said.

  “So you don’t think it’s important?”

  “Hell no. Just one of them wild goose chases that TV policemen go running off about trying to fool the audience. We ain’t got no audience. It’s the same as tracking down those two girls’ names. Waste a time.”

  “Yeah, but that wild goose chase proved Miz Henley got names and plants and things mixed up. That shows how it could’ve been an accident.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You got other proof?”

  “Hell no!” Donovan repeated, slamming his fist on his desk. “I ain’t got proof a nothing. Besides, are we supposed to go off on a tangent trying to prove something stupid like Miz Henley got pregnant by some redheaded guy twenty-five years ago and passed Kevin off as Lester’s son? For crying out loud, both Lester and Audrey would’ve known she was a brunette.”

  “Yeah, and no guy is going to show up now and murder her. What would be the point? And it wouldn’t take Lester that long to figure out what had happened and kill her in a fit of jealousy.”

  “Daryl, that’s the dumbest thinking I ever heard.”

  The Henleys and company returned to the library after the second departure of the policemen, wandering distractedly around the room peering at the bookshelves, avoiding a discussion of Agnes, her plants, and her two ex-cooks.

  Finally Kevin said, “Come on, Bernie, let’s go out to the pool and take a dip before dinner. Whatcha fixing tonight, Mark?” he added.

  “Barbecued meat loaf, corn fritters, potato salad, and cheesy apple pie.”

  “Good lord, Mark! Are you trying to make blimps out of us?” complained Audrey. “Now that Agnes is gone, you might try something healthy and slimming.”

  The usually good-natured Mark almost responded that she didn’t have to eat his cooking. “Ma’am,” he said in a controlled, polite tone, “the Tuckers, that is, Bernie’s ma, brought the potato salad around since this is a grieving family and that’s the neighborly thing to do. The Demonts across the way sent over the pie and the Alexanders next door brought over meatloaf. I myself love corn fritters with meatloaf, so I’m going to fix them.”

  “Oh, all right,” she mumbled, thinking that the Tuckers in no way could be considered as neighbors. She shuddered to think in what kind of sanitary conditions the salad had been prepared.

  “Sounds damn good to me,” stated Lester.

  “Mama brought the salad? Geez, when?”

  “Early this morning, Miz Bernie. She said not to bother you.”

  “Well, how sweet of her!” She realized her mother never would have dared approach Henley House while Agnes was alive. But bringing food to honor a dead Agnes would indeed have been a pleasure for her.

  “Uh, Mark,” said Lester, “about this Miss and Miz business. You can drop it. Just be yourself.”

  “Very good, sir,” replied Mark who turned and left the room.

  “Damn! That kid has watched too many butler movies!” exclaimed Lester.

  “Aw, Dad, he’s having fun and he’s grateful to you for keeping him on.”

  “Of course I’m glad to keep him. Thank goodness he wants to stay. That kid can cook! I’m hungry all ready just thinking about what he’s setting out for us tonight.” He gave Audrey a sideways look that she ignored.

  “That’s good, Dad. Come on, Bernie, let’s swim.”

  “Sure, sweetie, let me go get my suit on.”

  “And I’m going to my room and watch TV,” said Lester. “Be back in a little while for cocktails.”

  “Fine, no problem,” said Audrey in a preoccupied manner as she stood by the window overlooking the pool. Soon Kevin and Bernie appeared flipping towels at each other. Then Kevin pushed Bernie into the water, and she grabbed his ankle, causing him to lose his balance and fall in beside her. “At least Bernie’s helping Kevin with his grief but there’s something I’m curious about.”

  “What?” asked Penny raising her head from the mystery novel she had been reading.

  “How come Bernie and Lester, who eat more than any of the rest of us, stay so skinny? And look at Kevin. He’s solid muscle. As for Mark who’s slim and trim, does he eat his own cooking?”

  “What are you complaining about? You look great. And if I do say so myself, so do I.”

  “Yes, but you and I watch our portion size, and we try to walk everyday. Bernie and Lester don’t do squat. Bernie’s the laziest thing I ever saw. And look at that scrawny body of hers. She’s wearing a bikini and I swear if she took off the top, nobody’d notice.”

  “Now, don’t you get uppity toward her the way Agnes did. She’s young and she’s had a hard life. Besides, she and Lester just have better metabolic rates than the rest of us. Think of poor Agnes and all the weight she put on. She was the only one of us who worked regular hours at a regular job, Hildegarde.”

  “If you call that work, Aunt Hazel. Poor Agnes! Baloney!” retorted her sister sarcastically.

  “I don’t know,” said Penny quietly, avoiding any more cynicism. “I’m sure everything’s going to be better now, but yet,” she hesitated.

  “But yet, what?” snapped Audrey.

  “I kind of miss making fun of Agnes and goading her into saying silly things.”

  “Penny, don’t be ridiculous! You never goaded her into anything. The rest of us did, well, not Kevin, exactly. Besides, you had as much reason to hate her as I did.”

  “But what made Agnes act the way she did? What in her make-up or upbringing made her so cruel or seem that way to those of us knew her best? She was a human being with feelings. For that matter how can any of us justify all of the things we do?”

  Audrey stared at Penny for a few minutes, slightly speechless. “Are you trying to justify something, Penny?”

  “Oh no, that’s not what I mean,” she said, slightly flustered. “I mean that we all do things in life that maybe we have regrets about. But think about Agnes. Why did she treat you so bad? Did your parents spoil you and ignore
her? She was older than you. What happened in those early years before you were born?”

  “We’ve discussed this before, Penny. You know she was jealous of both of us. However, I don’t remember my parents showing any more affection towards me than her but maybe I wouldn’t have noticed. However, it was obvious that Aunt Hilda showered me with affection and she was the one with the money. Agnes always tormented me as we were growing up. Maybe that’s normal sibling behavior or maybe not. Neither you nor I have any other experience to compare it with. You’re an only child and have even less knowledge of sibling behavior. Besides, you were raised without parental guidance and love. You didn’t turn out to be hateful, jealous, or spiteful. I don’t know why Agnes was the ways she was.”

  “But there has to be a reason why she was so-uh-domineering. Maybe if we had thought about it a long time ago, we could have done something to change her and help her.”

  “Are you insane? Agnes thought herself to be superior to all of us.”

  “Or maybe she felt inferior and that was her way of compensating.”

  “Penny, she did terrible things to you and me and other people, too. What on earth is bringing on this sudden case of sympathy for our dear departed Agnes? First you say you miss teasing her although you never really did that and then you say you wished you could have done something to change her.”

  “It’s just as I said. I think that maybe we all feel guilty about things we’ve done and then regret we did them.”

  “Hmm, is that so?”

  Audrey wondered why Penny was all of a sudden putting on such an innocent little act and pretending to feel guilty about Agnes. How very strange, she thought, if she hadn’t drawn the X, then she might accuse Penny. Maybe she should anyway, just for the fun of seeing her squirm.

  Oblivious to Audrey’s thoughts, Penny resumed reading They Came to Baghdad, her favorite Agatha Christie novel, one she had read and reread. Wistfully, she wondered if she would ever go to a faraway place and find romance. Momentarily, she thought of her parents in Africa. They were not getting any younger and neither was she. Perhaps now she could travel a bit although she needed to earn more money.