Who'll Kill Agnes? by Lea Chan Read Free Book Online Page B

cocktails once in a while,” he cackled as he saluted her with his glass.
    “Dear Lester, how sweet of you. Maybe I will join you soon but more for meditation than cocktails. Penelope and Audrey are much too quiet this evening. I hope there weren’t any arguments. We must have a peaceful home,” she said, staring at Bernie.
    “Hey, don’t look at me. We didn’t argue.”
    From Lester, Agnes turned to Penny, “Well, Penelope, how was your day?”
    “Fine. I read one of your Agatha Christie novels.”
    Penny was the only member of the household who, on a daily basis, told Agnes what she wanted to hear and let the others, mainly Lester and Audrey and now Bernie, indulge in cynical repartee which usually escaped Agnes’ comprehension. Penny figured that the less she said, the easier her life would be. Kevin blissfully did and said whatever he wanted, as he knew he could do no wrong in his mother’s eyes.
    “That’s lovely, Penelope. Just lovely. Improving your mind.”
    Penny, five years younger than Agnes and better read than Agnes would ever be, just grimaced and stared into her salad.
    “And you, dear Audrey?” she asked condescendingly.
    Audrey, who sat between Agnes and Penny, glanced sideways at Penny. She said somberly, “I also read one,” which was not true. Audrey’s reading tastes ran in the direction of mainstream romance authors or fashion magazines. She had never touched Agnes’ collection of Christie novels, not realizing they had originally belonged to her dear Aunt Hilda. Tonight, however, she was not in the mood for a confrontation with her sister.
    “Splendid!” approved Agnes. “Now you see, Bernadette, that’s what you should have done. Read a book and acquire culture.”
    “Hey, that’s not a bad idea. I think I’ll read that one about Death on the Nile . I sort of saw it on TV once.”
    “Splendid! Splendid!” An unusually energetic Lester mimicked his wife. “Let’s drink to Death on the Nile !” He almost choked on his own laughter causing Mark, who was removing the salad bowls, to stumble. Luckily, Mark regained his composure without a mishap.
    Kevin spoke up, “Ah, Marcel, le gran chef, don’t mind Dad. He’s okay. Uh, the dinnair smells delish.”
    “Mercy, señor.”
    This response caused Kevin, Lester, and even Penny and Audrey to grab their wine glasses and sip rapidly to prevent themselves from erupting into uncontrolled laughter. Thanks to Kevin and Mark’s act, Penny and Audrey had seemingly recovered from their doldrums.
    Bernie and Agnes looked perplexed, both of them assuming that Mark-Marcel’s French was correct and nothing to laugh at. Of course Bernie knew that Mark was putting on an act but she didn’t know that his French was fake.
    “Really,” remonstrated Agnes, “we must show Marcel our greatest respect and gratitude.”
    “Oh, Mom, we are, we are,” said Kevin patting her arm.
    Mollified by her son’s affection, she turned her attention back to Mark who was bringing in the main entrée, a large silver platter containing the steaming pot roast and vegetables.
    “Oh, how divine!” she exclaimed. “Le potty roasty and the veggies. It does smell delicious.”
    Mark deposited the platter in front of Lester who began carving and serving. He quickly returned with the gravy sauce.
    Soon the Henley House occupants were indulging in Mark’s latest culinary accomplishment. The compliments poured upon him whenever he entered the room to replenish their water or wine.
    “Oooh,” cooed Agnes, “I love the way the French cook their meat in wine. What kind is this, Marcel?”
    “Oh, so sorry Muh-dom, but that ees state secret. I cannot divulge. But I am so glad you like.” Mark never used the Henley wine in his cooking. Instead he hoarded it in his quarters for after hours use. He spent many nights at home with his father, a recent widower, and shared the Henley wine with him. And if soda pop as a substitute fooled the Henleys, then he felt he had