Who'll Kill Agnes? (2 page)

Another girl hooted with laughter. “Svelte? Is this the way we are going to talk now that we are in France?”

All four girls laughed and one said that they should concentrate on learning to speak French and not worry about how sophisticated their English was or wasn’t.

Audrey wasn’t notified of her beloved aunt’s death or of her own disinheritance. She spent the summer cavorting on the sunny European shores of the Mediterranean, all at Agnes’ expense.

LESTER

Connor’s Corner, a small southern town of 15,000 inhabitants

Two young men were shooting pool and drinking beer at the only pool hall in town. One of them, small, thin, dark, and rather taciturn, was rubbing the end of his stick casually while his tall, sandy-haired opponent lined up his shot.

After making it, the tall one turned to his friend and asked, “So, Les, you still going out with that waitress over at the Southern Star Restaurant?”

“She’s not a waitress. She’s a hostess.”

“Whatever. She dresses and acts awful hoity-toity but I’ll tell you, I bet you have to kiss her in the dark.”

“Aw, she ain’t that bad. In fact she’s passable, well, never you mind about that.”

“Is it true she’s coming into some money?”

“That’s what she says.”

“You figuring on getting some of it?”

“That’s the plan.”

“So, you gonna fix me up with that cute friend of hers?”

“Do you mean Penny? Ain’t she kind of shy for you?”

“Hell, man, that’s the best kind.”

“No, my friend, the best kind is the rich kind. Penny’s some kind of orphan and ain’t got a penny to her name.” He burst out laughing at his little joke.

“I don’t know. Agnes may come into some money but I’d rather fool around with Penny.”

“To each his own,” said Les, amazed at how clever he could be at times with words.

Later that evening in his one-room apartment, Lester, with a cold beer in hand, sat back on his old, second-hand sofa and dreamed of an easy life to come. He was in his mid-twenties and had never held down much of a job. He had tried his hand at auto mechanics but he hated working in places without air conditioning. If he had his own shop, he would definitely make sure the place was cool.

He turned on his TV to an old rerun of
Dallas
but didn’t pay much attention to the goings on of the Ewings at South Fork. However, their opulent life style did catch his attention.

“Damn,” he said out loud to the empty room. “That’s the life I want. A big house and servants and nothing to do but drink all day. And if I got bored, I could tinker with a brand new Rolls Royce in my air-conditioned shop. Damn, I have to marry that Agnes Briar.”

She had taken him for a drive to Magnolia Creek the day before and shown him Briar House. It would soon all be hers she had said. She was the only heir. Lester smiled at himself. He wasn’t in love with Agnes but she was tolerable enough, especially with the inheritance that would come her way. That made her damn attractive.

Ah yes, nothing but the good life.

PENNY

A small apartment in
Connor’s Corner

Penny Carson began her day with great anticipation. She loved her summer job and looked forward to her first teaching assignment in the fall. She whirled around the small living room and hummed happily to herself. Her roommate Agnes had already left for work at the Southern Star Restaurant where Agnes worked as a hostess greeting customers and Penny worked as a pastry chef. Agnes made more money than she did but Penny thought her job was more fun. Penny was rather shy and preferred to stay away from the public eye. She knew she could never be a hostess or, even worse, a waitress.

The only thing that bothered her that morning was her upcoming date with one of Lester’s friends. For the life of her she couldn’t understand what Agnes saw in Lester. He wasn’t good looking nor was he very ambitious. His friend was only just a little better in that he was tall and fairly good-looking but neither was very well educated and that meant a lot to Penny.

She thought about what Agnes had said about marriage.

“
Honey, being married is the most important thing for an upstanding citizen of a small town. And, it’s exceptionally important to have more money than your husband. That way you can call the shots.”

Penny thought falling in love first was the most important thing in starting a marriage. The one thing she was sure of was that she wasn’t going to fall in love with Lester’s friend. She imagined that it would be a night in which she would spend it fighting off her date’s groping. She shuddered and then thought about the day ahead at the restaurant. Now, that was something to look forward to.

Later at the Southern Star Restaurant

“Penelope, honey, what’s the matter?”

Penny, who was an attractive, brown haired, brown-eyed young woman, had tears streaming down her face as she made her way through the crowded restaurant.

“Oh, Agnes, I’ve just been fired!”

“Oh, honey, no. How could this happen? You’re the best pastry chef this restaurant has ever had.”

“I-I, well, I think so, too, but-but,” her words died away.

“But what?”

“A customer claimed one of my pies poisoned her,” she sobbed as she collapsed into a booth. Her friend Agnes sat beside her, put her arms around her, and tried to console her.

“Penelope, that’s terrible. But it couldn’t possibly be true. Don’t you worry. I’ll do all I can to help you. Run along now and I’ll talk to the manager. Believe me, I’ll straighten this out.”

“But, Agnes, how can you? It’s my word and yours against a customer who is threatening a lawsuit if-if I’m not fired.” She buried her head in her arms and continued to sob.

“Sssh, go on home now. It can’t be that serious. Trust me, I’ll take care of it.”

Penelope embraced her friend and, brushing away her tears, left the restaurant.

Agnes sat back in the booth and smiled sweetly.

FIVE YEARS AGO

DONOVAN AND METSON

Magnolia Creek

Part of Police Chief Harold Donovan’s training of his newest officer was driving him around town, not that there was much training to do, and certainly not much to show him since twenty-three year old Daryl Metson was a local Magnolia Creek boy. Daryl had just graduated from the police academy upstate, the first policeman in Magnolia Creek history to do so. Donovan himself had become an officer some twenty years earlier at age twenty-two, simply by applying for the position and being accepted. His present position had been acquired by rising through the ranks due to promotions and the fact that he had had very little opposition. Harold Donovan was fast becoming a Magnolia Creek fixture if not institution.

Although Daryl knew as much about the town as did his chief, Donovan thought a cruise through town on a warm Saturday night in June might show the younger officer the importance of visible police presence. They left the city jail, a stone conglomerate located downtown next to Magnolia Creek, which meandered along the western limits of the business area. They crossed the one-way bridge to a rather seedy residential area where young, poor white and black families struggled to improve their home life. To the right of the bridge, just past a small park, were the Magnolia Creek Apartments, an attractive red brick and black shingle complex that lent an aura of respectability to the shabby neighborhood.

As Donovan turned left, he cruised past Burger Paradise, a tiny shack that specialized in huge greasy burgers, making sure the teenagers there were aware of them. Then he began to relate Magnolia Creek burger history to Metson who already knew it but patiently contributed his bit to the discussion.

“Now, the thing I can’t understand,” said Donovan, “is why they built Burger Paradise in this part of town.”

“Well, it is close to downtown and the police station,” said Metson.

“That’s another thing. It’s close to us and it’s across the creek where the bad part of town begins, but them teenagers, for as long as I can remember, have always preferred hanging out and eating there, right under our noses, so to speak.”

“Those burgers are damn good, better than Lottaburger.”

“Hell, anything’s better than Lottaburger. Little kids like to go to that place with all them Chirpy Meals and that playland. But soon as they get away from their parents, they head straight to Burger Paradise.”

“And Burger Giant,” added Metson as Donovan drove a few blocks south, turned left again, recrossed Magnolia Creek on a larger bridge and headed for Burger Giant.

“Yeah, but you ever notice? The kids just like to park there for their drinks, fries, or onion rings. Damn good onion rings.”

“They are pretty good,” agreed the younger officer.

“Yeah, upscale families seem to gravitate to Burger Giant as the kids get a little older. But, I tell you, if you want a true hamburger, then the best place in town, maybe the whole damn county, is the Cracked Cup Diner over on the south side.”

“Yeah, they’re good but the only people you ever see in there are old-timers, truck drivers, and policemen like us.”

“Don’t make sense, does it?” said Donovan. “You’d think everybody would head for The Cup, instead of those other places. Of course them Paradise Burgers are almost as good and who’d want to go to The Cup if teenagers hung out there? But Lottaburger and Burger Giant don’t make sense. Those chain restaurants just don’t know how to fix a real burger.”

“Maybe it’s prestige. Maybe it ain’t so prestigious to go to The Cup. Hey, you ever been to the Deli-Coffee Shop downtown?”

“That sissy food? Who would go to a place like that anyway?”

Metson, who rather liked the deli but decided not to say so to his new boss, said carefully, “Oh, the younger businessmen and women, I suppose. Health food, you know.”

“Damn crazy, if you ask me. This is a burger town and the best is at The Cup and at Paradise. People are just losing their values, all there is to it. Starting little kids out at Lottaburger and then when kids get a little sense they head for Paradise and Burger Giant’s onion rings, but they get grown up and what have they learned? Damn near nothing! A fancy deli with soup and salad. Yuk!”

Metson smiled but said nothing.

After circling Burger Giant, they headed northwest toward Candy Crick Park, which bordered the southern shores of Candy Crick Lake, a favorite spot for teenage couples to make out. First, however, they passed through the trailer park where most of the crime in Magnolia Creek either occurred or originated.

Donovan drove slowly past one of the trailers in particular. A shabby little wooden fence surrounded a weedy yard in front of the decrepit trailer.

“Isn’t that where the Tuckers live?” asked Metson.

“Yeah, half the crime in Magnolia would disappear if we could get rid of that family,” grumbled Donovan.

“Well, maybe at least get rid of ole man Tucker. He’s the rabble-rouser.”

“Hmmph. Them boys of his are going to be just like him. And them girls are just as spunky.”

“Yeah,” Metson agreed referring to the girls, “but spunky don’t necessarily mean committing any crimes.”

“Maybe,” said Donovan, “but I’m just dreading when those kids get to be teenagers and older.”

“I think that one of the girls is a teenager already.”

“Oh lordy. But are those kids going to follow their old man or are they going to heed their mama?”

“I hear tell that Miz Tucker came from a pretty nice family. How’d she hook up with a Tucker in the first place?”

“Well, Daryl, I don’t go in none for gossip but since you’re on the force now, you need to know a little about the folks in this park. It’s true that Miz Tucker don’t belong here. Let’s just say that she had a teenage indiscretion. She was dating some nice boys when suddenly she let a Tucker boy sweet talk her and well, the wedding bells just had to ring. The poor thing ended up here, raising a passel of kids and having to contend with what turned out to be the meanest of all the Tuckers. And she was a pretty little thing back years ago and look at her now. She’s all dried up and looking much older than she is. In fact she’s not even as old as I am.”