Who'll Kill Agnes? (17 page)

“I only know what’s on TV. I thought maybe you had more information.”

“No, no. What was on TV?”

“She was found dead in her home.”

“Who found her?”

“Mark Robeson.”

“Oh yes, Marcel, le grand chef. So, tell me everything. Was it a heart attack? She was so fat.”

“The media hasn’t given out much information. All the medical examiner has said is that it may have been an accident.”

“You’re kidding! What kind of accident?”

“He wouldn’t say but the TV reporter said the rumor is food poisoning.”

“Accidental food poisoning for the great nutritionist? How appropriate!” She almost laughed, then said more seriously, “I hope it wasn’t something that Mark fixed?”

“Uhh, I don’t know but after what was said about finding a way to get rid of her, well, and I’m joking, really, I thought to myself, is this what Shirley meant by getting rid of Agnes? Killing her?”

“Oh my goodness! That’s not funny, Annie. No, no, no! My plan was to petition the administration to eliminate Agnes’ position in order to save money to hire more teachers. There are lots of unnecessary positions in this school district and assistant director of nutrition is certainly one of them.”

“Well, you and I know that but Agnes Henley was a force to reckon with in this town. She would never have been eliminated that way.” In spite of herself Annie began to giggle.

“What’s so funny?”

“This is terrible of me. She was eliminated. Isn’t that what mobsters do to, uh, competitors?”

“Oh, Annie, we’re both terrible,” Shirley replied laughing. “But you’re right, I guess. Agnes probably would have kept her job. Although if the petition had succeeded, it would have been fun to see her get what she deserved. Alive, that is!”

“Well, whatever. She’s out of the picture now. Do you think Shetekia and Chenequel had anything to do with her food poisoning?”

“My word, Annie! What a thing to say! A few months ago I might have said maybe, but not now with Mark Robeson doing the cooking. I wonder what on earth could have happened. Listen, I’m dying to see if there are any messages on my answering machine. I’ll call you back if I learn anything.”

Shirley hung up the phone, walked into the living room, and found the machine blinking away. Of course, it wasn’t blinking any faster than usual. It just seemed that way. The messages were frantic calls from school personnel, colleagues, and friends inquiring if she had any knowledge of the death of Agnes Henley.

One call was from Chief Donovan.

Donovan drove into his driveway of his home wondering if May Belle had heard about Miz Agnes. He figured she probably had heard since she knew the poor lady and her friends loved to gossip. One thing he could say about May Belle, though, was that she ignored gossip. She listened to it but never picked up the phone and passed it on. He knew there were plenty of times that he probably could have gotten valuable information from her regarding a case but they had agreed early in their marriage not to discuss what went on at their respective jobs. May Belle taught world history in the junior high school but never brought her problems home to him and he did the same with her. Their evenings together were quiet sanctuaries of watching the evening news and reading newspapers.

Walking in the front door he called out his usual, “Honey, I’m home.”

She walked into the living room from the kitchen and kissed him on the cheek. “Busy day, huh?” she said with a slight sparkle in her eye.

“You heard about Miz Agnes then?” he asked. This was probably one time when their rule about discussing his cases would be broken. After all May Belle knew Agnes Henley very well. It was only normal that she would want to talk about the death of a friend.

“Oh yes, my phone has been ringing all day. The rumors are out of control. Everyone says she died of food poisoning. I hate to ask you this but is that true?”

“I don’t know but it’s highly unlikely. I should get the autopsy report tomorrow.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll try to squelch all the rumors that are floating about. I wonder how things like that get started?”

“Damned if I know. I can’t believe that anyone on the force or in the Henley family leaked anything to the press. Oh, what am I saying! There’s a Tucker living there. I bet she’s the one that’s spreading those rumors. All she had to do was call her mama and tell some warbled story and ole lady Tucker would have a field day. Or maybe it was Mark Robeson what told his daddy. After all he’s the one that found the body.”

May Belle smiled. For once she would have liked to grill Harold about Agnes but she realized that this was one case that she should wait for the official verdict. She had definite opinions regarding Agnes Henley especially in regard to food poisoning but she’d keep silent for the time being. After Agnes was buried and the case was closed then she might tell Harold a thing or two.

“Well, come on and get ready for dinner,” she said. “At least you don’t have to worry about food poisoning here.”

He laughed as he gave her a big hug.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Wednesday, June 5th

“Damn!” said Donovan Wednesday morning when he heard the results of the autopsy. “You mean to say I really do have a suspicious death to investigate here in Magnolia Creek? And Miz Henley of all people!”

“It’s just as I expected,” said Rupert Norrison, the medical examiner, “she died from eating poisonous weeds in her salad. Her salad bowl and her stomach were full of them. Now, the way I see it, your job is to figure out why or how a nutrition expert could confuse something like that.”

“Damn! That’s crazy! Like maybe somebody held a gun to her head and told her to eat them? That’s nuts.”

After the call he turned to Metson and explained the autopsy results.

“How could she have died so fast?” asked Metson. “I thought most poisonous plants just made you sick, at least give you time to get to the doctor.”

“Apparently not this one. Rupert gave me the scientific name but I can’t remember it. It was Latin or Greek, I guess. Anyway, according to him this particular weed paralyzes the body first, from the muscles to the lungs. The mind’s the last to go. In other words, she must of known what was happening but couldn’t move or speak.”

“Damn! That’s horrible! But still, it must’ve been quick acting.”

“Yeah, that’s what Rupert said. Damn, now I got to tell the Henleys what she died of.”

“You going to interrogate them some more?”

He answered slowly, “Guess I’m going to have to. After all, it is a most suspicious death.”

“Yeah, but the Henleys of all people.”

“Come on, let’s go get this over with.”

Lester answered the doorbell. “Officers, do you have any news for us?” he asked anxiously.

“Mr. Henley, I sure hate to bother you at a time like this but, well, I’d like to talk to all of you at one time in the library.”

Inwardly Lester quivered. Donovan’s words sounded ominous. Outwardly he tired to appear calm and polite.

“Yes, sir. Just step in here and I’ll try to round up everyone. Uh, do you want to see Mark, too?”

“Yes, everyone that lives here.”

Momentarily left alone, the officers glanced around the room, which seemed big and opulent but comfortable. As Donovan admired the collection of mystery novels, he was irritated by Metson’s next comment.

“Strange reading tastes.”

“How do you mean?”

“Books on gardening and botany. Agatha Christie novels. Reader’s Digest Condensed Books.”

“So? What would you suggest that Miz Henley should have read? They sound normal to me.”

“Yeah, but she was a nutrition expert. Where’s the cookbooks and such?”

“In the kitchen with Marcel,” Donovan replied sarcastically. “Besides, gardening and botany go right along with nutrition, I’d think, which just makes her death that much more suspicious.”

“Yeah, I guess so, considering what she died of.” He paused a few minutes, and then added, “What about Lester? This ain’t stuff a man would read.”

Donovan himself was a mystery aficionado, although the only Agatha Christie novel he was really familiar with was
Murder on the Orient Express,
preferring Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe, a man who knew good food. Peeved again at Metson’s comments, he came to Lester’s defense, “Maybe he has a study of his own upstairs with reading material. Of course, some people don’t read much anyway,” he added pointedly to Metson who missed the inference. “Shhh, I hear some of them coming.”

The door opened and Penny cautiously walked in, visibly distraught and nervous. Donovan noted what a pretty woman she was, considering her age, although she was a little too much on the shy side. He thought how different his own confident, assured wife May Belle was.

Audrey entered quickly behind her. Now there was a really good-looking woman, he thought to himself, as he admired her sleek figure and carefully coifed blonde hairdo. She didn’t spare money on herself. Of Course she was
Ask Hildegarde
so naturally she’d be classy. Why, however, did she have the fake name? Ask Audrey sounded ritzy to him. May Belle said the rumor was that Audrey also wrote the
Haze
l recipes, but May Belle herself thought Penny wrote them. Strange, he never could understand aliases and pen names.

He studied Audrey some more. Again, his wife’s image appeared in his mind, short, plump, and graying. Comfortable. That’s what his wife was, comfortable. Audrey was elegant but she didn’t look comfortable. Was that why she never married? He figured he knew why Penny had never married, just too shy.

Bernie came next. Donovan couldn’t figure for the life of him what a rich kid like Kevin Henley saw in a little piece of trailer trash like her. Damn, she would be disqualified in a wet tee-shirt contest. Topside, she was flatter than a griddle pan.
Then he mentally chastised himself. Bernadette Tucker had just as much right to marry Kevin Henley as anyone else, especially if Kevin loved her. Just no accounting for tastes
,
he thought as he recalled the family fights he had been called to at her folks’ trailer.

Lester and Kevin walked in together with Mark at their heels. No father and son could be more different. Lester was small, wiry, dark and swarthy. Kevin was tall, robustly muscular, freckle-faced, and redheaded. To an observer most of Kevin’s genes would appear to have come from his mother.

Then there was Mark who could simply be described as tall, dark, and handsome, a cliché perhaps but true. Both young men had graduated from high school. Neither had gone to college. Mark had worked at his father’s diner before coming to Henley House. As far as Donovan knew, Kevin had never had a job. He was an indulged, wealthy kid but a likable one, nonetheless. And he had married the town tramp. Donovan had never figured Kevin and Mark to be particularly friendly with each other but he guessed maybe he had been wrong about that. Apparently, Kevin had been privy and agreeable to the idea of Mark posing as Marcel, his mother’s French chef.

Put them all together and you have a mighty odd assortment
,
he reflected.

Donovan addressed the assemblage, “I would like for all of you to sit down, get comfortable.” He spoke with a soothing tone, hoping to put them at ease. There was a little shuffling as the men seated themselves in armchairs and the three women settled on one of the sofas. They were expectant and silent.

“This is a little difficult for me,” began Donovan, “but I may as well come right out with it.”

Metson, standing back to the right of his superior, had a clear view of each member of the Henley household. He, like Donovan, had been silent as the family members filed in. Now, with pencil and notepad ready, he studied their expressions as Donovan continued.

“Miz Agnes Henley died from plant poisoning. Her salad was full of poisonous weeds.”

Whatever reaction Donovan and Metson expected, they couldn’t have been less prepared for the one they got. Later, Donovan confessed to Metson that he thought each one, except maybe Kevin and Mark, was on the verge of a choking fit from repressed laughter.

Lester gasped the loudest, desperately trying to contain himself.

Startled, Donovan ignored him and persevered, “Now, I’d like to know again where each and everyone of you was between twelve o’clock and one-fifteen yesterday

“But-but,” stammered Lester, “I thought that you thought that Agnes died accidentally.”

“Hmm,” murmured Donovan, not sure what he should say and not say at this point, “be that as it may. Like I said yesterday, if anybody was here, they might of heard her cry out. If so why didn’t they come to her rescue?”

Metson wondered if his boss was going senile. Didn’t he remember what the medical examiner said? She was paralyzed! She couldn’t cry out! He ought to be asking why a cultured lady like Miz Henley would be eating weeds
.
However, he kept his thoughts to himself.

“Oh,” said Lester weakly, “but none of us was here,” and he thought to himself, as long as they all stuck to their alibis.

“Well, I just want to get everything clear in my mind. Kevin, son, I didn’t get to talk to you much yesterday and I hate asking you. But could you tell me your movements during the crucial time period?”

Kevin answered straightforwardly, “Oh, a little before noon, I think it was, I went downtown to do some shopping. I wasn’t hungry at first. That’s why I didn’t eat at home. But, after I got to town and was walking around, I got hungry and went to the deli.”

Donovan knew this tied in with what Mark had said, but he had to ask, “Did anybody see you during this time?”

“Yeah, sure. Lots of people, including Mark who ate with me.”

“Okay, uh, Mark, you got anything you want to add from yesterday’s account?”

“Yes, sir, I do,” he stated emphatically, startling everyone including the two policemen. “Now that you said what caused her death, well, it makes sense and we should have known something like that might happen.”

“What the hell you talking about, son?” snapped Donovan.