Who'll Kill Agnes? (16 page)

“Yes, you’re right. I thought I could hold out.”

As they entered the kitchen Penny said, “Do you think Mark is going to continue working here? It seems strange that we won’t have to call him Marcel anymore.”

Apparently overhearing her, Mark stepped out of the pantry. “Yes, Miss Penny, I hope I can stay on here and I hope you all want me to. This is a good job with good pay, for the time being anyway. Of course, a lot depends on Lester. But it’s good experience in case I open my own restaurant or start a catering business.”

“But couldn’t you achieve that with your dad at The Cracked Cup?” asked Audrey.

“Yeah, but I need to expand my references and my clientele. Not many of you society folks patronize The Cup, and you’re the ones I want to cater to.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t think we’re classified as society folks,” said Audrey, thinking of Lester and Bernie.

“Miz Agnes sure thought she was.”

Audrey laughed. “Yes, she did put on airs. And the Briar name was once one to be reckoned with in this town.”

“Just how did this charade of yours come about, anyway?” asked Penny. “I have a general idea, but not the particulars.”

“Oh, I imagine it’s probably like you think. Bernie and Kevin used to come in at The Cup a lot and one day, while they were joking around, one of them said I ought to go cook at Henley House and replace those students Miz Henley always hired.”

“Just exactly who came up with the idea?” asked Audrey.

“Uh,” hesitated Mark, “I don’t remember exactly. But one thing led to another. Somebody came up with Marcel, French chef. Kevin later joked about it with his dad, who loved the idea. So one day, I got all dressed up and put on an act for Miz Henley, and she hired me on the spot. Didn’t seem to be any harm in the scheme. Everybody was happy. My dad’ll probably retire soon. My mom’s death really got to him. I’d like to work here until I can take over The Cup, then I’d change it to something more upbeat. Anyway, I’m getting some good ideas working here.”

“Maybe so,” said Audrey, “but The Cracked Cup, as it is, is a Magnolia Creek institution.”

“Have you ever eaten there, Miss Audrey?”

“Well, no.”

“And you, Miss Penny?”

“Er-no.”

“So, you see? I need to bring in fresh blood. I can keep my dad’s cheeseburgers but upgrade the place as well.”

“Then,” declared Audrey, “I hope Lester keeps you on. We love your confections and concoctions but, if you want to upgrade your cuisine, then you’re going to have to eliminate all that fat and cholesterol. However, I don’t know how we managed before you came along.”

“Everyone had to get his or her breakfast and lunch,” said Penny, “and we got so tired of those students that Agnes hired, one-by-one, to cook dinner for us. Especially those last two who were supposed to be under her tutelage at school. Some nutrition expert! The girls’ meals were disasters.”

“I hate to be reminded,” stated Audrey. “Then Saint Marcel came and saved us with his unique, down-home, French cooking. You know, I agree with Penny. I’m going to miss calling you Marcel every evening. That was kind of fun.” She remembered she was supposed to be in mourning for her sister in front of Mark and immediately put on a sorrowful face.

Evidently not noticing any impropriety, Mark grinned, “Well, I’m glad everyone enjoyed my expertise including Miz Henley.”

Penny and Audrey laughed nervously.

“Ah yes,” said Audrey, “what joy Agnes had in securing a prestigious French chef who produced such tasty yet fattening cuisine, not that it seemed to matter to her if it was fattening.”

“Your first meal was a delight,” Penny smiled hesitantly. “Chicken and dumplings. Only you called them ‘pollo con le dimples.’ They were delicious, but how we kept a straight face during that meal, I’ll never know.”

“Or any of the other meals either, for that matter,” joked Audrey.

All three laughed temporarily leaving respectful mourning aside.

“Okay, Mark, are the sandwiches and soup still edible?” asked Audrey.

“As far as I know. I put them back in the fridge. Don’t eat too much, though.”

“Yes, we know. Chili tonight. All we want is some soup. Save the sandwiches for tomorrow.”

As he watched the two women eat at the butcher-block table in the kitchen, the breakfast nook making them squeamish, Mark pondered the strange way in which various people reacted to a death. A sister and a friend using humor to cover their loss. He had felt tension between Agnes and the members of her household but death usually brought remorse and regret.

Audrey commented, as if sensing his thoughts, “I know we sound perhaps rather callous joking about your cooking and fooling Agnes so soon after her death. But sometimes laughter helps with grieving. She was my sister and it’s hard to grasp that I’ll never see her again.” With watery eyes, she rose from the table. “In fact I think I’ll go to my room and-and think about her.” She quickly left the kitchen, sniffling gently.

Penny arose, and said, “Yes, Mark, please understand. Sometimes shock causes people to act in strange ways.” She also left.

He stood motionless for a few minutes, meditating on the vagaries of people who realized their losses too late. Kevin was the only one in the household who had treated his mother with love and respect while she was alive. And even he had reveled in the Marcel act. Now everyone was obviously regretting their actions, wishing they had shown her more compassion. As for himself, Mark didn’t regret a thing. He had done what he had to do and, in spite of all her pomposity and condescension toward him, he had enjoyed fooling old Agnes.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

In her room, Audrey began pacing up and down with anxiety in fear that Mark might have become suspicious of her and Penny’s actions. At least she had managed to squeeze out a few tears for Mark’s benefit.

“I’ve got to get hold of myself. I’m supposed to grieve for my sister. I can’t let up for a minute. And Penny? What if she cracks? She’s always been such a namby-pamby, goody-two-shoes, and spineless. No wonder Agnes controlled her so easily. And now that damn autopsy looms over us. Why did Agnes have to be such a prominent citizen? I bet if that idiot Justice of the Peace would have signed the death certificate like Lester said, stating heart attack or some natural cause, then the case would be closed. Lester ought to put up some kind of fight. But no, it’s too late for that and he was the one that thought up the X drawing scheme. If anyone cracks, then the finger will point to him first and to me second. Why the hell did I have to be the one to draw the damn thing? Oh how I hope the others keep their mouths shut. I wonder, could Kevin stop the autopsy on grounds he didn’t want his mama cut up without drawing undo attention or suspicion?”

Penny was equally worried. She sat on her bed and buried her face in her hands.

“Oh, what will I do if they have an autopsy? I never thought about there being one. Natural causes would be a wonderful solution. Why couldn’t they have left it at that? Me, of all people, drawing that X! How could I have been drawn into that little plot? Will everyone really keep quiet and stick to the alibis? What if someone reveals the plan? Someone like Bernie who will say she didn’t draw the X? Would Audrey and Lester follow suit?”

“Well,” she thought defiantly, “I’ll just say the same thing. And whether we all did or did not flush our pieces of paper down the toilet, I could, at least, tear up another one and say that one was mine. Nobody would know the difference. But what if the other three did the same? Oh, this is ridiculous. How could anyone suspect shy little me? But still, why, oh why was I the one who drew it? Damn Lester and his ideas.”

Lester had retired to his rooms on the third floor, shaken by Kevin’s reaction. He loved the boy and hated to see him suffer. Kevin was a great son and he was lucky to have him. The only thing Lester and Agnes had agreed on was Kevin’s upbringing.

“I never minded when Agnes indulged him. We never played against each other in front of him or for him. I’ll give Agnes that much” He paced back and forth.

“But,” his thoughts continued, “the other part of my life has been pure hell living with that woman. The constant nagging, lecturing, ‘Don’t eat pizza, Lester darling. It’ll make you fat, bad for your heart.’ Fat? Hell, talk about the pot calling the kettle black! ‘Put your shirt on Lester, darling, when you go outside. We must maintain our position and appearance in society.’ Appearance? Hadn’t she ever looked in a mirror?”
His thoughts were spinning out of control, his blood pressure rising.

Putting a halt to his irritating reflections, he turned to a more pleasing and self-congratulatory concept. What a stroke of genius it had been to come up with the idea of drawing to see who would kill Agnes. He wondered how the others were dealing with the so-called accidental death. Could it actually appear that way? But what were Audrey, Penny, and Bernie thinking? Were they going nuts, worrying about their little game? They had to hold up. Donovan shouldn’t be too hard to fool.

Bernie had finally convinced Kevin to take a sleeping pill. She watched him as he dozed fitfully. He had taken his mother’s death too hard, much too hard. But did she really care how Kevin felt about his mother? The woman had treated her abominably, although it had been anticipated. She knew Kevin loved her more than he had ever loved his mother. Otherwise he would never have married her
.

“It’s funny, though, but I never thought he’d react like this.” Her thoughts shifted to the X she had drawn. “Will anyone besides Les, Audrey, and Penny think I had anything to do with Agnes dying? What’s an autopsy all about anyway? That accident idea sounds good to me. I don’t want nobody else thinking I did this. The four of us got to keep cool heads. Something my daddy never did. I sure don’t want to end up like him. I hope that little fool Penny keeps her mouth shut. She’s so honest she might just blab about us drawing to kill Agnes. Surely, Audrey’ll make her keep quiet.”

Dinner that evening was served at the regular time in deference to respect for the memory of Agnes and especially for Kevin, and, the four conspirators agreed, to put on a show of deeply felt mourning in front of Mark.

They had met briefly in the library where Lester and Audrey both admonished the other two to be careful with their behavior.

The very paranoid Penny was convinced that all three pairs of eyes were focused on her and that they knew she had drawn the X. She even began to wonder if the entire plot had been planned that way.

The meal was hushed as everyone doted on a still seemingly sedated Kevin. The only departure from solemnity resulted from a comment by Bernie.

“This chili is delicious but I don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” asked Audrey sharply.

“I thought chili was Mexican not French.”

As the others fought to contain their laughter, Kevin, coming out of his sedation, reproved her, “Honey, you know Mark isn’t French. For crying out loud, he came here from The Cracked Cup.”

“I know,” she stated petulantly, “but I thought he was trying to cook French style.”

Kevin almost exploded, “Damn, you’re almost as easy to fool as Mom was!”

The others gasped at his momentary departure from grief.

“Actually,” interposed Penny, “chili is Texan. It’s supposed to have originated near San Antonio.”

Ignoring Penny’s unsolicited tidbit of information, Kevin addressed his tablemates, “Now listen, you guys. I loved my mama but you all got to admit she was a little nuts when it came to food.”

“Oh yes,” contributed Audrey dryly, “just remember Shetekia and Chenequel.”

They all laughed nervously except Bernie, who assumed that Audrey was referring to the spying episode the previous day in the garden. There seemed to be an undercurrent that went beyond Agnes’ plants. She looked at Mark, who, as he was serving the last of the chili, was trying to maintain a serious demeanor. Well, he had to get along with Kevin and Lester, too, for that matter
.
But she felt something just wasn’t right.

“And,” continued Kevin in a more serious vein, “I know we all loved her and we’ll miss her. I-I think we should dedicate this dinner in her honor. I know how much she was looking forward to it.” Suddenly he broke down and cried.

Lester couldn’t take much more of his son’s grief or of his homage to his mother and knew he had to take charge. “Yes, Kevin is right. She had her moments,” and
,
he thought, that was putting it mildly
,
“but this meal is for her.”

To change the focus away from Agnes, he addressed Mark, “From now on I want you to eat with us. I want you to stay on and become a part of this family. Invite your dad over once in a while.”

Mark appeared relieved and grateful. He hoped that his amusement at being socially promoted due to the death of Agnes didn’t show on his face.

Lester’s comments to Mark produced a simultaneous reckoning among the three women. From now on Lester really was their new benefactor. Their future in Henley House depended on him, more, of course, for Audrey and Penny than Bernie who as Kevin’s wife had a secure position in the household.

The phone rang in Shirley Gates’ apartment study.

“Hello,” said Shirley, breathlessly, as she picked up her telephone.

“Shirley?”

“Yes. Annie, is that you? What’s up?”

“Then you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“About our dearly beloved assistant director.”

“Agnes? What about her?”

“She died sometime today.”

Silence, then “No! How? You’re not serious?”

“Absolutely. It’s on the news right now. I’m surprised nobody notified you.”

“I-I’ve been in my study here at home all afternoon working on the script for my TV segment. I turned off the bell on my telephone as soon as I got home from our luncheon and let the answering machine in the living room take over. I had just finished my work and had turned the bell on the minute you called. So please, explain everything to me.”