They walked out to Miles's car and he said, "Home?" in a hopeful voice.

"Certainly. We have to put our containers into the fridge. Plus, I want to speak with Dusty before we visit with Ezra."

Miles started up the car. "Does your grass need mowing?"

"Not particularly, although that would be a good idea, considering I want the gnomes pulled out. It does make things look tidier to have the grass cut low. But mostly, I want him to pull out all the gnomes. I need to make a statement to Red."

Miles reflected that the statement Myrtle would make would be more to the entire neighborhood. However, he wisely kept this sentiment to himself.

They put their take-out in Myrtle's fridge and settled in her living room. She pulled out her phone and dialed Dusty.

He answered the phone with a howl. "Can't mow, Miz Myrtle!"

"Dusty, I simply can't have both you and Puddin being non-compliant. It's tough enough to get Puddin to even come out to the house without you joining in her nonsense. Besides, I mostly just want you to pull the gnomes out for me. Mowing would have just been a bonus."

"Can't pull out them gnomes neither, Miz Myrtle."

Myrtle closed her eyes briefly. "What's happened now?"

"My back is thrown."

"Dusty, that's Puddin's excuse, not yours. I feel it would be more responsible and creative of you to come up with your own excuses for getting out of work."

Dusty growled, "Well, my back is thrown."

"I wasn't aware that was a contagious condition."

"It happened when I was at Miz Darst's house. She had me pulling up a dead bush. It didn't want to pull up."

Myrtle sighed in irritation. "Well, that was most inconsiderate of Darlene Darst to mess up your back just when I needed your help. But just the kind of thing I'd expect from her."

Miles hid a smile. He had the feeling that Myrtle was going to give Darlene a piece of her mind the next time she saw her.

Dusty now sounded a bit penitent. "Tell you what. How about Puddin helps you pull them gnomes out?"

There were wild protestations in the background on the other end of the line. Puddin apparently didn't like that suggestion one bit.

Myrtle said quickly, "I think that's an excellent idea. It sounds like she's at home so this is the perfect time."

There was more squabbling on the other end of the line. Then Puddin apparently wrested the phone out of Dusty's hand.

"My back is thrown, too!" she spat out.

"Highly unlikely," said Myrtle coolly. "Dusty and I just established the condition isn't contagious."

Puddin said in a resentful voice, "Speak English."

"You didn't catch a thrown back from Dusty. And I'm quite sure you weren't pulling dead bushes out of the ground at Darlene Darst's. So you can come right over and help with the gnomes."

"What did he do now?" asked Puddin curiously.

"Red would like to insert himself in my financial affairs."

Puddin tried to sort this out. "So, he wants to take over your money?"

"Something like that. At any rate, it was very inappropriate that he didn't realize I'm sovereign over my own financial arrangements."

Puddin decided to return to the gnomes. "Can't pull out them gnomes by myself, Miz Myrtle."

Myrtle sighed. "No, I expect you can't. But you can help Miles and me pull them out."

Miles, settled on the sofa, gave her a dismayed look.

Puddin grouched, "I guess I'll come on over."

"Thank you. It shouldn't take long." And then Myrtle hung up.

Miles said, "It shouldn't take long? It takes Dusty a full couple of hours to drag those things out of your storage shed and put them strategically around the yard. And you said you wanted a large display."

"Well, I'm going to have to scale things back if Dusty isn't available. It will have to be more of a quieter statement."

Miles said, "And how on earth are you supposed to help with the process? The last thing you need to be doing is trying to balance a cane in one hand and a gnome in the other as you walk across soft ground."

Myrtle glowered at him. "I'm starting to think that I might want to put my gnomes in your yard as a statement. And, to answer your question, I happen to have a little red wagon. Puddin can place a gnome in the little wagon and I can pull it over to you. We'll set up sort of an assembly line."

Miles did not look at all pleased at the prospect of an assembly line in Myrtle's yard. Especially one that involved him in any way.

Soon, however, Myrtle heard a loud engine and muffler outside, alerting her to Puddin's arrival. There was a knock at the door and the dour, pasty-faced Puddin scowled at her on her doorstep.

"Good! Now we can get started." Myrtle clapped her hands together.

Miles and Puddin gave her recalcitrant looks.

"It's going to be fun," proclaimed Myrtle. "We can even play music."

This idea was apparently of interest to Puddin. "What kinda music?"

"Whatever kind of music will make you work faster and longer," said Myrtle.

Puddin said craftily, "I got some music on my phone we could listen to."

Miles, an aficionado of both classical and jazz, looked concerned by this idea.

Myrtle, however, gave a breezy, unworried shrug. "Whatever gets the job done."

Which is how they all ended up listening to very hard rock music in Myrtle's yard.

Myrtle, after a few minutes, said, "I may have to disqualify what you have us listening to as an option, Puddin. I don't believe it's music."

"It is! It's metal." Puddin's face was complacent and she bobbed her head up and down in time to the beat.

"Metal is a material," said Myrtle. "Or possibly an element."

"And music," persisted Puddin.

"That is a matter of opinion. At any rate, I need you to turn it down so I can explain how this process is going to work."

Puddin drawled, "Good. 'Cause I can't see how you're planning on lugging gnomes around the yard."

Myrtle ignored her and pulled a shiny red wagon out of the storage shed. "Step one is Puddin loading a gnome into the wagon. Step two is me—I will pull the wagon to Miles's location in the front yard."

Miles looked dejectedly at the wagon.

"Miles will unload the gnome and place it. Then I will return to Puddin and the process will be completed," said Myrtle. "Got it?"

Puddin, who looked distracted by Pasha-the-feral-cat's sudden appearance, gave a vague nod as she followed the cat's movements suspiciously. Pasha plopped down in a sunbeam near Puddin and started grooming herself.

Miles started walking toward Myrtle's front yard. Puddin was still watching Pasha. Pasha stopped giving herself a bath and returned Puddin's stare with green eyes glinting in the sun.

Myrtle frowned. "Puddin, you have to start the process."

"Oh." She edged away from Pasha and looked uncomprehendingly at the storage shed, the gnomes, and the wagon. "Do what, now?"

"Pay attention! Find a gnome that will fit in the wagon. Put it in the wagon."

"Okay, okay," muttered Puddin. She grabbed a random gnome and stuck it in the wagon.

By the time Myrtle returned to Puddin and the shed, Puddin was taking a selfie of herself sticking her tongue out with one of Myrtle's gnomes.

Myrtle gritted her teeth. "Another gnome, Puddin."

Pasha watched with interest as Puddin loaded a gnome wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket into the wagon.

"Do me a favor while I take this to Miles. Find the most obnoxious gnomes and line them up so you're ready when I come back," said Myrtle. "The whole point is to enrage Red."

This seemed to interest Puddin and she was studying the various options in the shed as Myrtle rolled the wagon away.

After about thirty minutes, Myrtle surveyed her front yard. "What do you think of the gnome coverage, Miles?"

Miles peered around him. "Considering the amount of time we've put in, I believe the number of gnomes is probably commiserate with your level of irritation with Red."

"I don't think that's true because I'm quite annoyed at Red. But I do think what we've done has made a statement. I suppose I'll go ahead and tell Puddin we can stop for the day."

Puddin didn't have to be told twice. She carefully edged away from Pasha and walked to the front yard, keeping an eye on her back the whole while.

They joined Miles in the front yard. Puddin narrowed her eyes and gave the yard a critically appraising look. "Ain't as good as what Dusty does." She sniffed.

"Well, as soon as Dusty catches that thrown back of his, maybe he can do some rearranging. This was the best the three of us could manage," said Myrtle crisply.

"Oh, I think it looks fabulous!" a voice called out behind them.

They turned to see Elaine and Jack coming across the street. Jack made a crowing sound and hugged his favorite gnome—one carrying a fishing pole and a picnic basket.

Puddin preened at the compliment from Elaine. "We done the best we could. Dusty is hurt."

"I'm sorry to hear that. But it really does look great. And I'm glad to catch y'all because I wanted to ask something about a new hobby of mine."

Puddin looked alarmed. "Well, gotta go check on Dusty. I'll let y'all talk about the hobby. Hope you have a good one." And she made a noisy escape in the dilapidated truck.

Miles seemed especially anxious because it appeared that Elaine was focusing most of her attention his way. It didn't bode well.

Indeed, Elaine gave Miles a big grin. "I think you're about to be part of the chess competition, aren't you?"

Miles nodded. "That's the plan. Are you . . . playing chess, too?"

Jack was climbing one of the larger gnomes and Elaine held out a hand to help steady him. "I won't even be ready for the beginner level right now, but I'd love to go watch and learn. I'm really trying to ramp up. The cool thing about this hobby is it's very inexpensive and it doesn't have to take a lot of time. You know how crazy my life can be with Jack around. I always think I have all this time to learn a language or a new craft and then things tend to fall apart."

Myrtle carefully refrained from saying anything and just gave Elaine a sympathetic nod. She didn't really think lack of time or focus was Elaine's problem. Sadly, a general lack of talent appeared to be the underlying issue for most of the hobbies.

"But chess is different. I can play against a computer and not even make a move for hours, if I get busy. I can read about chess moves in books or online at my own pace. And it's incredibly inexpensive—there are really no set-up costs involved." Her face was flushed with excitement.

Miles swallowed, having the feeling he knew what might be coming. "That's all very true."

"Right? Anyway, now I finally think I'm ready to play with a human. I was trying to play with Red, but then this case came up and now he has no time at all. I wondered if maybe I could play a game with you, Miles."

Miles quickly said, "Myrtle is actually a wonderful chess player, herself."

Myrtle shot him a dirty look.

Elaine turned to Myrtle and said, "Oh, I didn't even think about the fact you could play, Myrtle."

"Miles is exaggerating my abilities," said Myrtle. "I don't even know the names of all the pieces."

"Don't let that fool you," said Miles dryly. "Not knowing the names of the pieces doesn't mean she won't beat you."

Elaine helped Jack jump off the gnome and watched as he trotted over to another. "How about if I play Miles first and then Myrtle next? That way I can get more experience in."

Miles nodded, although he looked disappointed. "True. And it's good playing with a variety of different players."

"I think it'll be great to observe at the tournament, too. Who knows, maybe I could even get Jack into the game after he gets a little older."

Myrtle said, "I'm sure he'd be an amazing chess player when he's bigger. My grandson is absolutely brilliant, you know."

Jack, at this point, was curiously gnawing on the hand of one of the gnomes. Elaine quickly redirected him. Then she said, "Well, thanks so much for this! Miles, I'll be in touch about starting our game. Would you like to set the board up at your place or mine?"

Miles carefully considered this point. If he set it up at his house, it would be quieter and the chaos of toys wouldn't distract him. But if they set up the board at Elaine's, he might be able to more easily escape and make an excuse to leave. "Maybe at your house?"

She beamed at him. "Done! I'll set it up on the dining room table since we just use it for holidays. Come over whenever you want."

Miles looked a little leery of the idea to just drop in at Elaine's to play chess. Myrtle said, "Maybe it would be better if you set up a time in advance. After all, Red is probably in and out at weird hours, isn't he?"

"True. How about tomorrow, then? Jack takes a nap around 1:00 . . . would that work out?"

Miles gave Elaine a small smile and said, "That sounds great, Elaine."

Myrtle smirked. Miles was always a gentleman. Sometimes, it didn't serve him well.

Elaine and Jack happily walked back to their house. Myrtle murmured, "Good luck tomorrow."

They walked back inside Myrtle's house. Miles said, "She couldn't be too awful if she's been playing on a computer."

"Oh, never underestimate how bad Elaine can be at a hobby. Besides, she might have the computer set on pre-novice level."

Miles frowned. "Is there even any such thing as pre-novice?"

"If there is, I'm sure Elaine has discovered it. You'll be fine. You can always come up with some sort of excuse to leave."

Miles looked uncomfortable. "I don't want to hurt her feelings though. It might look like I want to escape."

"But you do want to escape. Just start thinking about solid excuses now so whatever you use will sound plausible."

Miles crinkled his brow. "How long is Jack's nap?"

"I'm sad to say that Jack actually does have a very long nap in the afternoons. He stopped having morning naps so he has a single, huge nap at 1:00."

Miles looked morose.

Myrtle decided a distraction was in order. "Why don't we go inside and eat our leftover breakfast for lunch? We can even watch my recording of Tomorrow's Promise when we do."

Miles perked up a little. Tomorrow's Promise was the soap opera Myrtle and Miles watched. It had started out being Myrtle's soap opera, but then she'd gotten Miles hooked on the outlandish storylines and the unlikely characters.

Soon they were eating sausage, bacon, pancakes, and biscuits.

Miles frowned at the television screen. "What's going on with Hawthorne? I don't remember what he's doing in the hospital."

"Oh, sure you do. He was trying to keep his baby from being kidnapped by his ex-wife. It was pouring down rain and he was throwing himself desperately at her minivan and she ran him down."

"And he's on life support? Was she really driving that fast in the rainstorm?" Miles knit his brows.

"We have to suspend our disbelief, Miles. This isn't reality TV, you know. Remember how we had to accept the fact that Shawn was abducted by aliens for two weeks? It makes viewing much easier if we don't question things."

Miles seemed to accept this and they watched in silence for another fifteen minutes while they ate. Then Miles reached another stumbling block. "Ronan and Bethany spend a lot of time in a hotel."

"That's where they live," said Myrtle impatiently.

Miles stared at her. "They live in a hotel?"

"Some people do," said Myrtle.

"Only people on soap operas," muttered Miles. "There's not all that much room. And only one bathroom."

"It's a tremendous hotel room."

"Yes, but it would make for a small apartment. And it would cost a small fortune. It would make much more sense for them to just rent an apartment instead."

Myrtle said in a tight voice, "Perhaps you should write to the show and let Ronan and Bethany know that."

Miles considered this. "I could. And when I do, I'll also mention the fact that the show features far too many individuals being brainwashed. Half the people on the soap have been brainwashed at some point or another."

"Suspension of disbelief, Miles! It's very important." She reached out for the remote and turned off the television. "What's on your mind? You always enjoy watching Tomorrow's Promise."

Miles sighed. "Sorry. I think I'm just in a cranky mood."

"Well, that's most unlike you. Would it help if you went home and took a nap? Really, you need to shake this mood somehow."

Miles shook his head. "I'm not at all sure that a nap would help. When I've taken naps lately, I've ended up feeling really groggy when I wake up. I go through the rest of the day in a stupor."

Myrtle decided that explained a lot, but decided not to comment on the point. Instead, she tilted her head to one side. "We need a change of pace. Let's go ahead and set out to see Ezra."

Miles winced. "I'm not sure that's the panacea for my issues, Myrtle. We've had a very busy day already."

"Yes, but now we're doing something that's allegedly relaxing and it doesn't seem to be working. Instead, we'll hop back into action by speaking to our botanist friend about the poisoned pie. We'll work our brains a little bit. Then you'll probably be so exhausted that you'll go home, fall into bed, and sleep for twelve hours. You'll be a brand-new Miles."

Myrtle devoutly hoped he'd be a brand-new Miles. She wasn't much caring for this particular version of her friend on this particular afternoon.

"Okay. I suppose that makes sense in a weird way. We'll visit Ezra, if you're sure he won't mind having two people drop in on him for absolutely no reason at all."

Myrtle stood up and grabbed her purse. "I'm positive."