A Myrtle Clover Christmas

Chapter Three

"Long-lost?"

Myrtle said, "The sort of long-lost that everyone is grateful for. Wishes devoutly for. I remember teaching Edgar Ross. He was an absolute nightmare in every way."

"The sort you had to send to the principal's office all the time?"

"The principal's office? Absolutely not. I dealt with him myself. And assigned quite a few especially tiresome classics for him to read and write essays on." Myrtle's eyes narrowed. "I can't imagine anyone would have invited him here."

"You don't think he's gatecrashing?"

Myrtle watched as Glynis rose from her chair, eyes steely, and strode off to her brother. "Oh, I somehow think he is."

The bride watched with concern as her aunt approached her father.

"You don't think there'll be a scene?" Miles looked a bit anxious about the idea of a scene at a wedding.

Glynis's voice rose to the point it could be heard over the sound of the band. She shoved her brother, and he put his hands up, shrugging and laughing. And, noticed Myrtle, staggering a bit, too. Alcohol was definitely in play.

"There's a scene," said Miles with a sigh.

"Think of it as an extended version of Tomorrow's Promise." Myrtle took a sip of her tiny glass of wine.

"Poor Faith and Holden."

And indeed, Glynis's ire seemed to suddenly spread over the entire family. Uncaring about the very expensive party she was throwing and the prospect of potentially ruining it, she bellowed, "This is really the final straw. Did you invite this man, Faith? Your useless, despicable father?"

Faith, looking as if she wanted the ground to open and swallow her up, shook her head miserably.

"Then how on earth did he find out? I certainly didn't tell him. All you've done is cause trouble for me, Faith. I think about how much easier my life would be if I'd never even had a brother. Or a niece. And the man you've picked as your life partner?" Glynis sneered. "He's just as useless as your father is."

Holden, who'd been protectively holding Faith's hand during this tirade, stood up, shoulders squared, and fist clenched.

Glynis snorted. "What are you going to do, Holden? You're not man enough to stand up to me. Carry on with your wedding party. I'm going off for a smoke."

The guests, who'd all been in stunned silence, looked at each other as if not knowing how to proceed. Should they all leave? Should they commiserate with the bride and groom for having such a harridan for a family member?

The band decided to help make everything clearer. They'd been paid to play and play they would. They immediately started in, quite loudly, with an energetic dance song. And the guests, obediently, rose to dance. Quite a few people headed off to get more drinks.

Miles said glumly, "I'm suddenly wanting to head back to your place and play cards with Wanda."

"Let's finish our food first. Aside from sugary treats, I don't have a lot to eat in the house right now. I don't want to waste this plate of goodies."

Miles looked down at his plate. "I seem to have lost my appetite."

"That chicken will help you regain it. It's good stuff. Now come on, Miles, dig in."

As they ate, they noticed the guests getting more revved up. It might have been the alcohol or it might have been in reaction to Glynis's emotional outburst. But everyone swarmed the dance floor and the bar.

Miles commented. "It looks like Faith's father wasn't scared away."

Myrtle snorted. "Fat chance of that happening. Not when there's free food and booze. He'll be here until they turn out the lights and pack away the tents." She frowned. "In fact, it looks as if he's about to pass out right at his table."

Edgar did indeed look rather inebriated. He was slumped in his chair. As they watched, he lay his head down on his arms as if the dance music was making him relaxed instead of energized.

"The guests are getting pretty wild," noted Miles uneasily.

"They certainly are. I have the feeling they're going to have terrible headaches in the morning." Myrtle's voice was smug, in the manner of someone who had only consumed a small portion of a tiny glass of wine.

"Let's find the bride and groom and hostess, thank them, and escape."

"You sound quite fervent, Miles! And that might be easier said than done. There's quite a scrum of people to wade through."

Somehow, the two managed to locate and isolate both the bride and the groom, thank them, and wish them well. Finding the errant Glynis wasn't as easy.

"Where could the woman have gone off to?" asked Myrtle with great irritation.

"Maybe she went back in the house," said Miles, gesturing to the looming mansion above them.

"Well, that would be a silly thing to do. She spent an obscene amount of money on this party. You'd think she'd at least brood somewhere where she could enjoy it."

Miles frowned. "You don't think she's still off on her cigarette break?"

"She could have smoked an entire pack of cigarettes in this amount of time."

Miles said, "We've looked everywhere else. I say we give up and write her a nice note telling her we enjoyed ourselves."

"You just want to make yourself scarce because of the scene she made. But I'm curious now. I intend to find out exactly what's happened to her."

Miles said uneasily, "You're making it sound as if she's met with foul play."

Myrtle quirked her eyebrows. "Anything is possible. I remember another incident where someone on a smoke break ended up meeting her Maker. You'll recall the Bunco episode. Even if it wasn't foul play, she might have gotten herself so riled up that she's experiencing some sort of cardiac event. We could be the ones to find her medical help."

Thus, persuaded by the thought of being helpful, Miles accompanied Myrtle to the area where Glynis was last seen heading off with her cigarette.

Myrtle gripped her cane, steadying herself as she carefully trod into the darkness. "There's not so much lighting here," she grumbled.

"They might not have expected anyone to be traipsing around in the woods."

Myrtle said, "That was rather shortsighted of Glynis, considering she's fond of a smoke." She paused. "That over there—what is it?"

Miles peered into the darkness, pushing his glasses up his nose as if they might help him. "What . . . the lump over there? Maybe a pile of brush."

"Very optimistic of you, Miles. Unfortunately, I have the feeling it might be a lump of something else. Or someone else. Can you turn on your cell phone flashlight?"

It took a bit of struggling with his phone for Miles to bring the app up. "I rarely use that one," he muttered. "I like real flashlights."

"Fair enough, but real flashlights aren't commonly brought to weddings."

Miles carefully shone his flashlight app ahead of them and they picked their way across the ground to the lump.

It was Glynis, dead.