Who'll Kill Agnes? (21 page)

The verdict was read. Accidental death. Mrs. Agnes Henley had accidentally substituted poisonous plants for edible greens.

Lester was impatient to get home so he could release the hilarity that had overtaken him. But getting out of the courthouse was going to be a problem. He had to produce a somber façade for the public as he made his way with Kevin and Bernie to their car. He didn’t realize that his face had turned red from his repressed convulsions and, in trying not to smile, he looked veritably pathetic.

Even Donovan was impressed.

“You know, Daryl,” he said to Metson as they got into their patrol car, “I kind of feel sorry for ole Lester. If he’s acting then he’s damn good.”

“How do you feel about the verdict?”

“Nothing. I knew that’s what it was going to be.”

“Then you agree with it?”

“Damned if I know what to think. The hairs are still bristling on the back of my neck. Ole Lester’s the only one that would’ve had any kind of motive to harm Miz Agnes, as far as I can see, and he seems to be gen-u-inely upset at losing her. If he had had anything to do with her eating those plants, then he’d be jumping for joy at the verdict. Besides, he had the best alibi of any of them. He was nowhere near that house during the time of death.”

“Yeah, but you know what they say about ironclad alibis. The person that’s got one is usually the guilty party.”

“Only in mystery novels, Daryl, or on TV.”

“I suppose so. So what do you think happened?”

“What I think ain’t important. I just find it hard to believe that Miz Agnes Henley didn’t know the difference between them plants but the case is closed. Let’s hope it was an accident and that no lucky murderer is going scot-free.”

Metson was silent for a while then said, “You know, she sure is cute.”

“Who?” Donovan hoped he wasn’t referring to Miz Bernadette.

“That Miss Pilston who worked for Miz Agnes and Miss Gates.”

“Oh,” signed Donovan with relief. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings none, Daryl, but don’t you think she’s a little too classy for you?”

“I like classy. Besides, most folks in town think Mrs. Donovan is a pretty classy lady. I think it shows we both got good taste.”

“Damn right, son, damn right. So, you going to pursue this Miss Pilston?”

“I’m thinking on it.”

Shirley and Annie rode together to and from the inquest in Shirley’s car.

“So, do you think the inquest was right?” asked Annie.

“What? That it was an accident? Of course. Nobody could have picked out a more perfect scenario for Agnes than for her to die from a salad made from poisonous weeds growing in her precious garden. However, I wouldn’t have wished a death like that on anyone. The Henleys are nice people and besides, what other verdict could there have been? Poor Agnes. What a shame that she never really knew anything about the things she claimed to know best.”

Annie wondered just how sincere Shirley was. Agnes had irritated everyone at school. Shirley had wanted to get rid of her and the method that she was going to use had seemed lame to Annie. But she knew that Shirley had not had the opportunity to do anything to Agnes on that fateful day and that she ought to be ashamed of herself for thinking such a thing. She admired Shirley and hoped to work for her for a long time.

Changing the subject, she asked, “What do you think about Officer Metson?”

“Huh? Officer Metson? Well, I’ve never thought anything about him. I guess he’s kind of a younger version of Donovan.”

“Oh no, I don’t think so. I think he’s smarter than Donovan. And cuter,” she added shyly.

“Sheesh, Annie, don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on him. Look at the way he talks, all that bad grammar.”

“Maybe so, but look at May Belle. She uses perfect grammar and Donovan doesn’t.”

Shirley laughed. “May Belle has kept old Donovan in line for years. I think this town owes her a lot.”

Annie fell silent, deciding that it was best not to talk about Metson anymore. He was cute and in spite of his grammar, she was sure he was intelligent.

The funeral was held Saturday morning in the First Baptist Church. Donovan thought that was rather strange since he had always believed Agnes was Catholic. He didn’t want to question the family, so he asked Shirley Gates who had seemed to know Agnes as well as anyone.

“Oh,” she said in response to his query, “Agnes once told me she believed in all the religions, even the spirits of the wind and trees and the flowers. She took turns visiting different churches. She loved making an entrance but the Catholic was her favorite because of all the ritual. I don’t think she had a clue what it all meant. But Lester, Kevin, and Audrey are die-hard-uh-devout Baptists. They wouldn’t dream of having a funeral anyplace else. It’s kind of sad, though, because I think Agnes would have loved a Catholic funeral.”

“Damn,” said Donovan, himself a devout Baptist, to Metson as they drove away from the cemetery, “maybe Miz Agnes was a little nuts. But how could such a prominent citizen hide all that craziness from the entire community?”

“Well,” replied Metson, “I think you have to live or work with someone to really know them. Whether she was crazy or not, Miz Agnes Henley did a lot of good in Magnolia Creek.”

“Yeah, and I can’t believe that Shirley Gates, another fine lady could be in cahoots with that Henley bunch. Why just look at how she got that new TV show. Or how could them two girls paint a false picture of Miz Agnes. Sounds more and more like she was a real ditsy lady, capable of mixing up her own salad greens. But a good, kind soul, nonetheless,” he added. “Even May Belle wasn’t surprised when I told her what killed her.”

“You’re kidding. Miz Donovan said that? So, no more thoughts of murderers going scot-free?”

“Naw,” Donovan didn’t mention the hairs on his neck were still bristling.

The reading of the will was to be held that afternoon. Lester couldn’t wait to get it over with. The church ceremony, the ride to the cemetery, the ritual there, and the ride back to the house all seemed interminable. Then he had to endure condolences from friends, neighbors, and acquaintances who also partook of the lavish buffet that Mark, aided by his father, had set out. Would they ever leave, he worried. He was grateful that Kevin seemed to be holding up so well. And the women were behaving appropriately.

No sooner had the last guest left and the Henley group had collapsed in the library than the doorbell rang. The family lawyer, Jefferson Parkins, had arrived. Mark escorted him into the library where he seated himself at Agnes’ desk and asked the others to seat themselves comfortably around him. Mark remained, discreetly sitting behind the others, curious to hear the proceedings.

The lawyer, a serious, bespectacled, thin man of sixty, glanced around at the assembled group. “I’m not going to go through all the technical, legal mumbo-jumbo. I know you don’t want to hear it. So, Agnes Briar Henley, in sound mind and body,” he began.

A slight guffaw from Lester momentarily interrupted the attorney who gave him an annoyed glance.

Mr. Parkins continued, “Mrs. Henley employed me a few years ago to make out her will. Now before I get to the heart of her wishes, I would like to inform you of the secret safe in her bedroom. She didn’t think any of you knew of its existence,” he paused and studied the expectant faces around him.

His audience seemed to have stopped breathing in anticipation of what he was going to say next. The eerie silence was broken only by the tick-tocking of an antique grandfather’s clock standing steadfastly behind the attorney who inhaled, exhaled, and said, “She kept a copy of the will in that safe along with some family jewels, which she said were heirlooms previously owned by old Miss Hilda Briar, her aunt, who resided in this house until her death.”

Audrey gasped then clamped her hand over her mouth.

Parkins resumed his speech, ignoring her, “Miz Agnes fully expected to live a long time. In fact she anticipated outliving her husband and her younger sister. She said she was a nutritionist and knew how to eat healthy.”

He paused, recalling the previous day’s inquest and wondering if perhaps her state of mind had deteriorated in the years since she had visited him. He also speculated that eating Mark Robeson’s cooking, if it was anything like his father’s, could not have been very salubrious.

Keeping his thoughts to himself, he turned to Lester and said, “Therefore in keeping with the laws of this state Miz Agnes Briar Henley left the minimum required for a spouse, which is the sum of four thousand dollars, to her husband Lester Henley.” Not pausing, he continued rapidly, “The rest of her estate is to go to her dearly beloved son, Kevin Henley.”

An audible gasp escaped from everyone’s lips except Kevin who sat mute, almost trancelike, and Bernie who clenched her fist, raised it, then brought it down sharply to her side and screamed, “Yes! Yes!”

Lester literally collapsed. Never had he expected anything like this.

Observing his father’s reaction, Kevin rushed to his side terrified that he might have a heart attack.

“Dad, Dad, please! I knew nothing about this, I swear! I couldn’t have!”

The lawyer intervened, “That’s all right, Mr. Henley, if Agnes didn’t tell anyone about the safe and its contents, then I’m the only one who knew everything.” He turned to Audrey. “Old Miss Briar was your aunt, too, did you know about her safe?”

“No, my goodness no, and I knew nothing about family jewels.”

Audrey appeared as devastated as Lester because, it seemed, she had just learned of jewelry that should have belonged to her.

Lester could not move. “Son, you and Mark help me to my rooms. Then, get-get me a sedative. I can’t believe your mother did this to me.”

“But, Dad, nothing’s going to change. You’ll always live here. I-I think maybe we ought to send for a doctor. You don’t look good.”

“No, no, just get me upstairs. For gawd’s sake don’t call no doctor.” He was embarrassed and humiliated and couldn’t face any more outsiders observing his loss. But he was wobbly on his legs as Kevin and Mark supported him out of the room and up the stairs.

Parkins turned to those remaining, “Ladies, I don’t know what else to say. Please tell Kevin to contact me tomorrow at my office and I’ll go over his mother’s holdings with him. They’re quite considerable you know.”

As he picked up his briefcase, he scanned the faces of the remaining occupants of the room and realized he should have left his last remark unsaid. Bernie was beaming and would no doubt immediately inform Kevin. Audrey was fuming and Penny appeared in shock, although why she should be affected, Jefferson couldn’t comprehend. He left the room and let himself out.

Bernie was indeed jumping with joy. “Geez, can you beat that? Family jewels! And now they’re mine! Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!”

“Shut up, you little fool!” snapped Audrey. “I’m going to contest that will. Those jewels should be mine.”

“Well, maybe Kevin will give them to you,” suggested Penny.

“Over my dead body!” retorted Bernie.

“Penny, you little dunce, you’re not family, so stay out of this!”

“Audrey! Please!” exclaimed Penny, disheartened. “We’ve all got to calm down. Wait until Lester feels better, then we’ll decide what to do next.”

“Whatever we decide, it’s got nothing to do with you,” Audrey insisted stubbornly.

Bernie intervened, “You mean whatever Kevin decides. Don’t you go worrying none, Penny. And, Audrey, I think you’re in shock just like poor Lester. Maybe you need to lay down, too.” To herself she thought that sooner or later she would get rid of both of them and she would be the only woman here, lady of the manor just
like in her romance novels
.
She smiled mysteriously.

Audrey glared at the two women, then stormed out of the room. Standing in the hallway she knew she had to regain her composure. She couldn’t afford to alienate Penny just yet. She needed her as an ally. And Penny needed her support even more. As for Bernie, well, something had to be done about her but Kevin was in control now, and he, for incomprehensible reasons, doted on the little nincompoop. She went upstairs to her room to calm down and plan her strategy.

Misinterpreting Bernie’s smile and her statement, Penny said, “Thank you, Bernie, you’re very kind.” She also left the room, grateful for the friendship she had always had with Kevin and now, apparently, with Bernie.

Alone in the library, Bernie turned slowly around, surveyed the luxury that would be hers, and again raised her fist and shouted “Yes!”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

As the cocktail hour approached, a calmer Audrey and a subdued Penny found themselves once again in the library.

“If ever there was a day for drinking, this is it,” stated Penny.

“There’s nothing to celebrate,” moaned Audrey.

“That’s not what I meant. Just the opposite in fact. Drown our sorrows, that kind of stuff.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” but she had already poured herself a stiff drink. “Although I don’t know why you would care one way or the other, Penny.”

Bernie burst into the room not giving Penny time to respond. “Celebrating already, huh?” she asked cheerfully.

“Oh, shut up!” cried Audrey.

Penny quickly intervened, “Where’s Kevin, Bernie? Why doesn’t he ever join us in here?” She knew the reason but felt she had to say something to prevent the two in-laws from fighting.

“You know this is his favorite time to lay out in the sun,” said Bernie. “Besides he prefers beer, not cocktails, or hard liquor.”

“Lie out,” corrected Penny.

“Huh?”

“Never mind. He could still join us in here whether he drank beer or root beer.”

“And miss the sun? Nope, he says this is the only time of day that he doesn’t burn. Damn, he’s got the whitest skin I ever seen and all it does is freckle. I mean I have real white skin, too, but I tan easy.”

“Yes, Bernie,” said Audrey wryly, “you’re a golden goddess.”

“Well, thanks,” she replied, oblivious as always to the sarcasm. “Ya know, there’s something about Lester that’s been bothering me.”