Myrtle's eyes grew big. "Pasha, I thought we'd decided you didn't need to perform "The Twelve Days of Christmas."
The mouse scampered off, terrified, into the house.
"Oh dear."
Pasha looked grimly at Myrtle.
"I know. You wanted me to kill the mouse. Or eat it live. I'm not entirely sure what you wanted, but the Christmas presents need to cease and desist, Pasha."
Suddenly Myrtle brightened. "I just remembered. Holden is an exterminator. That's the perfect way for me to have an excuse to speak with him."
She beamed at Pasha and Pasha gave her a feline smile as if the excuse were her plan all along.
Myrtle called the extermination company. It was easy to know which one Holden worked for, because there was only one in town. And she knew Holden would be working because he and Faith were putting their honeymoon off until Christmas, when both their workplaces would be closed.
The woman who answered said they'd send someone out in an hour.
"Will it be Holden Davis?" asked Myrtle. "He's a friend." Of sorts, finished Myrtle silently.
"Yes, he's the one who has the open slot this afternoon," said the woman briskly.
Myrtle hung up, smiling.
Sure enough, an hour later, Holden appeared. "Hi, Miss Myrtle. I hear you have a mouse problem?" He looked doubtfully at the tidy surroundings.
"I do indeed. Pasha, she's my feral cat, has been bringing me live gifts the last few days. I believe she may be enacting 'The Twelve Days of Christmas.'"
Holden looked even more doubtful about that idea. "Well, I'll take care of it for you. You don't have to worry about that."
"Excellent. My first thought had been to let Pasha handle it herself. But she seems determined that I personally manage the gifts she brings me. Besides, the poor mouse would have come to a gory end, and it displayed some courage and ingenuity to get away from Pasha to begin with."
Holden said slowly, "So you're wanting a humane catch-and-release then?"
"Yes. We must show some humanity from time to time, mustn't we? I feel for the little mouse, but just the same, I don't want the creature residing in my house. Clement Clarke Moore must have never dealt with insomnia or mice."
Holden frowned in confusion at this apparent non sequitur.
"The poet who wrote 'A Visit from St. Nicolas.'"
Holden's frown deepened.
Myrtle bit back a sigh. "You know. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse."
"Yes!" said Holden, relieved to understand his elderly customer. "Well, I have a little plastic trap and will bait it with cheese."
"Then do you have time for a small chat?" asked Myrtle in her best tremulous old-lady voice. "It's just that I get lonely, you know. It's nice to visit with the young people."
Holden smiled at her. "I do have some extra time this afternoon. I'd love to chat."
Holden set about putting out the little trap for the mouse. Then he joined Myrtle in the living room, where she had already poured him a glass of lemonade.
"How is married life?" asked Myrtle as she handed him the glass.
Holden said, "Well, we're getting used to it. Of course, it hasn't been quite the way we thought we were going to start out. You know, considering what happened to Glynis."
Myrtle nodded. "Yes, that was quite awful. I'm so sorry."
Holden gave her a tired smile. "Thank you."
He looked uncomfortable and Myrtle wondered if that was because Glynis had been so ugly to him at the wedding reception. She asked, "Have the police made any headway in finding the person responsible?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing. Considering the chief is your son."
Myrtle said, "Sadly, Red doesn't share that sort of information with me. I heard you mention that the wedding wasn't videotaped."
Holden shook his head. "Glynis didn't want to spring for that. We had a friend do some videoing on their phone, but it wasn't complete. The police took the video, but I understood that it wasn't helpful to them at all. I mean, I get it . . . why Glynis wouldn't pay for the videography. She'd already put out a lot of money for the rest of the wedding. It's sort of ironic that the thing she didn't want to pay for is the thing that might have found her murderer."
"It sounds as though Glynis had precise ideas as to how she wanted the wedding to run."
Holden sighed. "Yeah. I mean, we were grateful that she paid, but it was tough not to have things the way we wanted them to be."
Myrtle said, "I hope you don't mind my mentioning it, but there was something of a contretemps at the reception."
Holden looked baffled.
"A brouhaha," elaborated Myrtle.
He looked even more bewildered.
Myrtle bit back a sigh. "Glynis seemed unhappy with you."
Holden's features cleared. "Oh, you mean when she yelled out that I was basically good-for-nothing. Yes, that was bad. But Glynis's feelings for me were pretty well-known. I think she told just about everybody about them. You'd think she'd have been happy that I was working an honest job with honest wages."
"But she wasn't?"
"No," said Holden. "She'd apparently expected Faith to marry a doctor or a lawyer or somebody."
"That must have really annoyed you."
Holden shrugged. "Not really. It was a little hurtful, but it wasn't something to get worked up about. I never cared what Glynis thought about my job. But it bothered me that she was so worked up during the reception. Faith had wanted this perfect, happy event, and I was upset when she didn't have it."
"I was surprised Glynis ranted like that during the reception she'd paid for. It was almost as if she were deliberately sabotaging it. Besides, I'd think she'd have wanted to ensure Faith had the pleasant reception she'd wanted. Did Glynis and Faith get along well?"
Holden said, "Faith gets along with everybody. The problem was always Glynis. She just wasn't a warm person . . . not to Faith or to anybody else. It was great she took her in and everything, but from what Faith has said, Glynis expected her to be a little adult from day one. Like she wasn't a child at all. Faith always tried to do exactly what Glynis wanted, but she never really seemed to be able to satisfy her."
"So an outburst like the one at the wedding was normal for Glynis?" asked Myrtle.
"Not really. I think she had too much to drink."
Myrtle raised her eyebrows. "Did she drink too much?"
"Maybe. She wasn't a sloppy drunk, so it was hard to tell. It was never like she was falling all over herself or slurring her words. But she could get harsher when she was drinking and she seemed to get angrier. Plus, I saw Glynis go off for a smoke right before we found out she was dead. Glynis never smoked unless she was drinking." Holden shrugged again. "I think she found the wedding stressful. Glynis never did like being around crowds."
"So she drank to cope with the guests?"
"Yeah," said Holden. "I just wish she'd left the reception early if she'd been uncomfortable instead of drinking and acting out."
"Did you see anything? Anybody following Glynis? Or anything else that seemed to stand out?"
Holden said, "Not really. The only thing I thought was interesting was that two people who'd definitely not been invited to the wedding were there."
"Faith's father being one of them?"
Holden said, "Okay, then three uninvited guests. It seems like a lot of gatecrashers for a wedding. Besides Faith's father, there were Nash Moore and Belinda Clark. None of them were invited because Glynis couldn't stand them."
"Couldn't stand them? But I understand Glynis was dating Nash Moore." Myrtle thought it best if she acted as if she didn't know the story of Glynis's date life.
Holden snorted. "Yeah, but that didn't work out. I can't figure why Faith's aunt would have gone out with Nash, anyway. She likes to be the smartest person in the room and Nash would have given her some competition."
Myrtle said, "I understood from Nash that they had things in common."
"Did they? That's a surprise. Whenever I heard the two of them together, they seemed to be arguing over their differences. And when Nash showed up at the reception, I saw Glynis arguing with him. I noticed because I was worried Glynis was going to start ranting at him and make a big scene." He rolled his eyes. "Sure enough, she made a big scene later, except it was focused on me."
Myrtle said, "And then Belinda showed up?" She leaned in with an eager expression, as if she was just a harmless old lady looking for some gossip to liven up her day. Belinda had told her that she hadn't been at the wedding, so that was certainly news.
"No surprises there, really. Belinda followed Nash around everywhere. They'd been dating before Nash left her for Glynis. Unfortunately, I could tell Belinda was already tipsy. I figured it was better for me to get Belinda to leave than for Glynis to start yelling at her."
"Mercy. It all sounds very much like my soap opera, Tomorrow's Promise."
Holden looked as if he very much didn't want to talk about Myrtle's soap opera. He quickly continued, "Anyway, after I spoke to Belinda for a few minutes, she got all teary-eyed and agreed to leave. I was worried about her driving, but she said she'd call a friend and get a ride home." He shrugged. "So I guess she could have been there for a while, waiting for the friend to drive up."
"Long enough to take revenge on Glynis?"
Holden nodded. "I'd guess so. I mean, it wouldn't have taken long for someone to hit Glynis over the head."
"Poor Glynis," said Myrtle in a rather unconvincing voice.
Holden nodded again; his agreement also rather unconvincing. Then he stood. "Well, Miss Myrtle, I guess I'd better get along to my next job. You let me know if you have any more problems with mice, okay?"
"I'll be sure to. Thanks for coming by Holden."
After Holden left, Myrtle walked out to join Wanda on the dock. "He's gone," she said.
"Figured I'd let you visit. Find anything out?"
"Well, I found out that Belinda didn't leave the reception right away. And I found that there was an altercation between Nash and Glynis, although that's not much of a surprise." She frowned. "And while I was speaking with Holden, I noticed all the dust on my tables."
Wanda stood up. "I kin take care of that."
"Absolutely not. As I've mentioned before, you're my guest. I'll call that Puddin up right now. Last year I tried to get Puddin out near Christmas and neither she nor Dusty would ever pick up the phone."
"Got a plan to git 'em out here?"
"I certainly do. I'll continue phoning them until Puddin agrees to come over and clean. I'm up in the middle of the night, after all. I'll keep calling her at two-thirty a.m. and I bet she'll quickly capitulate. People like their sleep."
Wanda quirked a brow. "But not you."
"I like the small amount of sleep that I get. But I can't get hung up on how little I sleep, or I'd be frustrated every single night."
Wanda suddenly reached out a hand and a flash of black fur raced by and jumped on her lap.
"Pasha! Where did you come from?" asked Myrtle.
Wanda smiled. "Jest felt her presence behind us somewhere."
The black cat nuzzled up against Wanda happily.
Myrtle said, "You two are so sweet together. And now I should call that Puddin."
As hard as it was to imagine, Puddin immediately picked up her phone. "Miz Myrtle," she said in a cranky voice.
"Hi Puddin. I need you to come over and give my house a pre-Christmas clean. The dust on my tables is really quite atrocious."
"Can't. Too busy," grouched Puddin.
Myrtle listened intently on her end of the phone. "It sounds like you're cleaning someone's house right now."
Then she heard a voice on the other end saying, "Puddin? Make sure you get the bathrooms this time."
Myrtle smiled. "That's Petunia Merriweather. She lives down the street from me. You can slide right by as soon as you're done there."
Puddin's voice was exasperated. "My back is thrown."
"If you can still clean for Petunia Merriweather, it's not thrown too badly. I'll see you in a few minutes." Myrtle hung up. "It's like herding cats trying to get Puddin to come out here."
Pasha jumped down from Wanda's lap to get some water and Wanda stretched. "Told you I could help you. Then you wouldn't have to git her over here."
Myrtle said, "No. You and I are going to watch some completely un-educational television."
And so Wanda and Myrtle were deeply entranced by a reality show about weddings. "This is making Faith and Holden's wedding not look that bad," muttered Myrtle.
Wanda said, "Nobody died at these weddin's on TV."
"But some of them should have. That one bride was really horrid."
The doorbell rang, and Myrtle gave a grim smile. "Finally."