A Myrtle Clover Christmas (A Myrtle Clover Cozy Mystery #21) Read online

  A Myrtle Clover Christmas

  A Myrtle Clover Cozy Mystery, Volume 21

  Elizabeth Spann Craig

  Published by Elizabeth Spann Craig, 2022.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  A MYRTLE CLOVER CHRISTMAS

  First edition. October 25, 2022.

  Copyright © 2022 Elizabeth Spann Craig.

  ISBN: 978-1955395212

  Written by Elizabeth Spann Craig.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  About the Author

  This and That

  Other Works by Elizabeth

  Chapter One

  “I have to say you sound cranky, Miles,” said his octogenarian friend, Myrtle. “I don’t think you’re quite getting into the tree trimming spirit.”

  Miles, who was indeed cranky, muttered, “That’s because it was quite a hassle getting your plastic tree set up. There were myriad limbs and none of them seemed to want to go in their intended slot.”

  “It’s something of a pain, I know. I probably should have tried to get Dusty to take care of it, except I already have another project in mind for him.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows. “Does the project have anything to do with gnomes?”

  “It certainly does. Plus, I went to the dollar store and got the most adorable Santa hats. They’re intended for children, so I believe they’ll fit my gnomes’ heads very well.”

  Miles’s already-raised eyebrows soared even higher. “That must have cost you a fortune. You have a ton of gnomes.”

  Myrtle said, “But they were three to a pack. And I didn’t get enough for all the gnomes. Just some of the more-visible ones out near the front of the pack. I do believe it would be fun to string lights among them, too, to highlight their dear little faces.”

  “Red will be sure to love it,” said Miles dryly. “What sort of infraction did he commit this time?”

  Myrtle’s son Red was not only the police chief in the small town of Bradley, North Carolina, he was also the official thorn in her side. “He’s been especially impertinent lately. Red seems to want me to surrender my driver’s license, of all things.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows. “I’m assuming that has to do with the incident last week when you borrowed my car.”

  “It’s not my fault that everyone is in such a hurry when they’re driving. It’s better to drive carefully and look out for pedestrians and children and whatnot. Besides, speed limits aren’t a suggestion. It says limit for a reason.”

  Miles said, “Red told me that other drivers were having accidents while trying to pass you.”

  Myrtle shrugged. “As I told Red, if the state of North Carolina doesn’t have a problem with me driving, then Red shouldn’t either. Getting on my nerves appears to be his hobby. But it’s Christmas, so I’ve been especially patient.”

  Miles hid a smile. Patience and Myrtle were not necessarily two words that normally went together.

  Myrtle reached into a box and pulled out a feisty-looking snowman, putting him carefully on the tree. “Anyway, it’s practically Christmas now and you’re as late putting up your tree as I am. Turnabout is fair play; I’ll help you put up your tree.”

  “That will be easy. I don’t have one.”

  Myrtle looked appalled. “What? No tree?”

  “I did have one. But I gave it away last summer when I was reorganizing.”

  Myrtle said, “I thought I’d seen a tree at your house these past years. Why on earth would you give it away?”

  “It took up a good deal of space. and it was troublesome to put up, like this one.” Miles gave Myrtle’s tree a reproving look, as if it should try harder to cooperate next time. “I’m going with a minimalist look this year. I’m sticking with a wreath on the door.”

  “How positively Scrooge-like of you, Miles. A wreath is no fun at all. You can’t even see it from the inside your house.”

  Miles was ready to change the subject. And fortunately, one of Myrtle’s ornaments was begging for discussion. “Speaking of no fun at all, this ornament is particularly frightening-looking. What’s the story behind this?”

  Myrtle peered at it. It was a misshapen Santa head with wide, staring eyes and a crooked, rather sinister mouth. “Oh, that’s something Red made when he was a little guy. I always put it up on the tree.”

  “You don’t have nightmares, looking at it?”

  “Certainly not. It’s merely childish art,” scoffed Myrtle. “It reminds me of the happy days when Red was both little and manageable.”

  Miles carefully put the ornament on the back of the tree, where he couldn’t see it from the living room. “Are you ready for the wedding tonight?”

  Myrtle said, “I suppose I am. It sounds rather dressy, doesn’t it? The problem with dressy things is that one has to have something appropriate. My wardrobe is more geared to funerals than to weddings.”

  Myrtle’s hairdresser, Faith, was getting married. It was quite the town event—a Christmastime wedding. Faith’s aunt, who’d raised her, was giving it, and there’d been lots of chatter in the small town of Bradley about the event.

  Miles said, “I’d think your black slacks and a dressy top would be fine. No one really cares what we wear, anyway. All eyes will be on the bride.”

  “That’s true. Of course, you have it easy. A dark suit, which works for both weddings and funerals.”

  “Perhaps we’d better stop talking about funerals,” said Miles nervously. “It might be tempting fate.” He picked up another rather frightening ornament, studied it, and then carefully put it back in the box.

  Myrtle was about to comment on Miles’s pickiness when it came to decorating the tree when there was a knock on the door.

  “I hope it’s Dusty. I asked him to deal with the gnomes as soon as possible.”

  But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Dusty’s weather-beaten face she saw, but Wanda’s.

  “Wanda!” Myrtle said to her psychic friend and Miles’ cousin. “What a wonderful surprise. Did you know Miles and I were decorating?”

  Wanda gave her a tired grin. “Kinda thought you might be.”

  “Come on in,” said Myrtle, motioning Wanda’s thin frame inside. “Let’s get you a snack. You can help us trim the tree. Miles is being extraordinarily picky about it all, and I’d like to finish decorating this afternoon.”

  Wanda brightened at the word snack.

  Myrtle said, “Come on, Miles. You probably need a snack, too, after putting that tree together.”

  Miles looked a bit wary as he followed them into the kitchen. “Have you been baking?”

  “Hmm?” asked Myrtle. “Oh, you mean the snacks? No, I’ve just been the lucky recipient of other people’s efforts. Apparently, the town of Bradley is trying to cut back on sweets. Red has had folks bringing cookies, brownies, and whatnot by the station.
He appreciates the gesture, but is worried about his waistline. He’s brought most of them to me. It’s the only redeeming thing he’s done lately.”

  Miles, looking more cheerful, sat with Wanda at the kitchen table. Myrtle pulled out what looked like a vintage crocheted tablecloth in red, green, and white and placed it over the round table. She handed them Christmas plates and then loaded containers of goodies in front of them.

  “The fudge is especially good,” said Myrtle. “I’d probably stay away from the fruitcake. The cake is far too thick and the nuts are rather odd.”

  Wanda and Miles exchanged looks at the thought of Myrtle as a food critic. However, they obediently avoided the problematic fruitcake.

  “Now Wanda, please tell us—are you here for a visit? To warn us about something the Sight has indicated? Or maybe you need some sort of help?”

  Wanda swallowed down the entire Christmas cookie she’d put in her mouth. As she did, she seemed to be considering how to answer. “I sorta do need help. But it’s not a real big deal.”

  “Of course it is! If you need help, we’re here for you,” said Myrtle stoutly.

  Miles unconsciously put a hand to his wallet, as if he could feel it getting lighter.

  Wanda took a deep breath. “It’s jest that Dan is gonna spend Christmas with our cousin, Rumsey. ‘Course, he’s my cousin, too, but I jest don’t like him.”

  “Then we don’t like Rumsey either,” said Myrtle immediately.

  Wanda warmed to her subject. “Rumsey and Dan will drink too much, start singin’, and git obnoxious.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Christmas to me,” said Miles. “That sounds rather like a party in a mead hall.”

  Wanda looked as if she wasn’t entirely sure what Miles was talking about. But she gave a nod of her head, just the same.

  Myrtle frowned. “Well, you simply can’t be at home by yourself for Christmas. How awful that would be. You know you’re welcome to stay here in that tiny guest room of mine. I just need to clear it out. It’s been something of a staging area for me for that wedding we’re going to tonight. I have clothes all over the place.”

  “I can clean it up,” said Wanda quickly, wanting to make herself as useful as possible.

  “Of course you won’t! You’re my guest. Cleaning up is outside of a guest’s purview. Now, the only trouble is, is that Miles and I can’t bring you along to that wedding tonight. Neither of us got a ‘plus one’ on our invitation.”

  Miles said rather regretfully, “People seem to think that we’re beyond dating age.”

  Myrtle said, “In my case, they’d be correct. I’m still not entirely sure how you wangled an invitation to this wedding to begin with. The bride is my hairdresser, and we’ve been friendly, so that’s how I’m on the list. But how are you on there?”

  Miles said glumly, “The groom is in my chess club. He asked me in person if I could come, and I wasn’t mentally agile enough to come up with an excuse not to.”

  “Don’t wanna go to no wedding, anyway,” said Wanda quickly. “Ain’t brought nuthin’ to wear.” She paused for a minute, looking concerned. “Maybe you shouldn’t go, neither.”

  Myrtle peered at her. “Is there a reason we shouldn’t go?”

  “Might be.” Wanda looked uncomfortable.

  Miles said, “The problem is that we’ve already RSVPed to the event, and it’s mere hours away. They have a place for us at the table and have figured out how much food and beverage we might consume.”

  “Miles is right,” said Myrtle with a sigh. “We should go to the wedding. It’s a pity, because now I’m in the mood to play cards with Wanda. Playing cards would be far superior to eating wedding cake, which is so often either too sweet or too bland. But since going is now a foregone conclusion, I suppose we should focus on more important things. Such as: do you have an overnight bag, Wanda? I can’t help but notice that you don’t seem to have anything with you.”

  Wanda looked down at her plate. “Didn’t want to make you feel you had to take me in.”

  “Then we’ll need to swing by your house and pick up some things for you,” said Myrtle.

  Miles grimaced a bit. There was no “swinging by” Wanda’s house. Instead, it was quite a voyage into the country on an old, unmaintained highway with treacherous potholes yawning from the road at every turn.

  Wanda demurred, perhaps having seen Miles wince. “I could jest wash this every day.” She pointed down to a well-worn sweater and some rather disreputable-looking jeans.

  Now it was time for Myrtle to wince. “If you don’t want to go back home, let’s go shopping. It can be my Christmas present to you.”

  Wanda seemed a bit alarmed at this proclamation. “Don’t want you to spend money.”

  “It’s Christmas! But I’m on a strict budget, so don’t worry. It’ll be the consignment shop and the dollar store.”

  “I suppose you’ll be needing a ride,” said Miles, looking resigned.

  “Naturally. It would be quite a walk over there. And there’s a chill in the air.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows. “It’s 60 degrees Fahrenheit.”

  “Well, compared to our usual 80 degrees, it’s a bit nippy. But let’s finish with the tree before we go. I’ll play Christmas carols.”

  Wanda was looking at the Christmas tree with a wistful expression on her face. Myrtle turned on the music and said, “Wanda, will you help us out? Many hands make light work.”

  “Ain’t done this in a while,” Wanda said as she peered into the ornament box.

  “Decorated a Christmas tree? You and Dan don’t put one up?”

  Wanda shook her head sadly. “For a while, there was too much junk in the house to put a tree up. Then I couldn’t find the tree. Buyin’ another one was too expensive. Then we got out of the habit.”

  “Well, you can share in this one.”

  The three of them put up Myrtle’s old ornaments. Miles carefully hung the more objectionable homemade ornaments toward the back, Wanda put each one up with a great deal of thought, and Myrtle quickly slung ornaments on the boughs as fast as she could. In the background, Bing Crosby crooned about being home for Christmas.

  “There!” Myrtle said finally. “The ornaments are all up.” She frowned, glaring at the tree. “Something doesn’t look right. Something is completely wrong.”

  Miles stood back, looking at the tree critically. “It looks all right to me.”

  But Wanda said in a hesitant voice, “Ain’t there supposed to be lights on it?”

  “For heaven’s sake,” said Myrtle. “Miles, we forgot the lights!”

  Miles looked very much as if he had a terrible headache. “There weren’t any strands of lights out anywhere.”

  “We must have left the box of lights in the hall closet,” said Myrtle. “Now we’ll have to take all the ornaments off to get the lights on it.”

  “Perhaps it doesn’t need any lights,” suggested Miles. “Perhaps it looks great just the way it is.”

  “Of course it needs lights. Wanda and I will want to see their cheerful glow when we’re here at the house drinking hot chocolate and listening to Christmas music.”

  Sometime later, the tree was undecorated, strung with lights from the forgotten box in the closet, and redecorated.

  “It does look much better this way,” admitted Miles. “Despite all the bother. And now, if you’re wanting to shop, we should go ahead and head out. That wedding is quickly approaching.”

  Chapter Two

  Miles drove them to the consignment store, getting out of the car, but not following them.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” asked Myrtle. “I was planning on having Wanda do a fashion show.”

  Wanda looked as if she’d rather not do a fashion show. Miles gave her a sympathetic look. “I think I should go to the coffee shop a couple of doors down if I’m planning on being awake during the wedding. And perhaps the shopping will go quicker if Wanda decides which garment works best while she’s still in t
he dressing room.”

  Myrtle looked doubtful at this but said slowly, “I suppose so. We lost a bit of time with the tree. I have my phone, so I’ll just call you when we need to head to the dollar store.”

  Myrtle and Wanda walked into the store. Myrtle eyed the racks of clothes with a critical eye. “I’m thinking you need a variety of different things. A few tops, a couple of pairs of pants, something slightly dressy, something to hang around the house in, undergarments, and pajamas.”

  Wanda looked worried. “That sounds like a lot. Mebbe we should get Miles to drive me back home after all.”

  “Nonsense. Each piece of clothing is three dollars at the most. According to my mental calculations, we should be able to do this fairly cheaply.”

  A saleswoman wearing red glasses and a pair of reindeer antlers cleared her throat. “We’ve also got a Christmas sale going on. Everything is thirty percent off.”

  “Gracious! I can’t even do the math on that, but that means everything is a good deal lower. Let’s get cracking.”

  It wasn’t long before Wanda had a complete, if limited, wardrobe in a cheery plastic consignment store bag. And some of the lines of worry had eased from Wanda’s features.

  Myrtle had called Miles right before they headed to the checkout counter, and he was in the parking lot by the time they exited the building. The next stop was the dollar store where Wanda picked up any toiletries she needed and Myrtle found a few stocking stuffers for her grandson, Jack. Myrtle pulled out her purse to buy Wanda’s purchases, but Wanda shooed her hand away. “I got this one,” she said with her gap-toothed grin.

  Miles was dozing in the car when they joined him. He yawned and said, “Back to the house? I was just getting in a little nap since we’re going to be up late tonight with the wedding.”

  “Let’s head back to the house. We should watch our soap opera. I love it when the show is all Christmassy. Would you like to watch it, too, Wanda?”

  Wanda considered this. “How about if I sorta watch it and sorta play solitaire?”