The Boreal Owl Murder by Jan Dunlap Page A

mid-morning to see if Ellis was back. If he was, I could talk with him and kill two birds with one stone (not one of my favorite metaphors, I have to admit, but effective, nonetheless): interview him for the MOU owl study and pick up whatever information I could pass along to Knott. I told the detective my agenda, and for a moment, just as I was about to hang up, I considered telling Knott about the note and the phone call, but decided to wait for tomorrow’s lunch. Instead, I asked him for a favor.
    “Don’t tell anyone I’m coming to town, okay?” I said. I guessed by the silence over the line that he was wondering about the reason behind my request, so I offered him a half-truth as explanation. “I want to outmaneuver a birding rival. He thinks I’m not heading north till Friday, and I don’t want to take a chance that somehow he might find out otherwise.”
    “Oh, I get it,” he answered. “One of those friendly birding competition things you told me about, right? My lips are sealed, Bob.” He paused. “As long as it really is a friendly little competition. Because the more I’m learning about Rahr’s world—the politics of academia, the S.O.B. people, even the DNR—the more I’m beginning to question if all these bird-loving people are tucked into one big happy nest, if you know what I mean.”
    I had to admit, I had my doubts sometimes, too. Why did something as simple as protecting the natural world seem to end up so often as a major production with a whole cast of heroes and villains, not to mention a thousand supporting players?
    “I think you ought to watch your back, Bob,” Knott added. “That’s all I’m saying. Friendly competition or not. I already have one birding-related crime to solve. I really don’t want another one.”
    Neither did I. But until I knew for sure what Stan was—or wasn’t—involved with, I also couldn’t gauge the seriousness of my anonymous note and call. If Scary Stan was just playing a mind game with me, I wasn’t going to call in the police. On the other hand, if I found out that Stan was guilty of anything other than dating my sister, then I would definitely cry “wolf!” loud and clear and welcome the police into my life. The last thing I needed was to be hunting for owls while someone else was hunting for me.
    I packed up my briefcase, straightened my desk and turned off the lights.
    “I’ll be back,” I told my chair, then locked the door and left.
    Minutes later, I pulled into Lily’s parking lot, in hopes she’d be around so I could get a phone number for Very Nice Trees, since I’d told her I’d check out the supplier on my next trip north. I also needed to pick up some suet. But, it remained to be seen if she would even speak to me after the little scene with Stan the other afternoon. I spotted her behind some statuary in the showroom and walked over, but I made sure I stayed out of her kick range.
    “I need the number for Very Nice Trees,” I said. “I’m going to be in Two Harbors this weekend, so I thought I’d do that look-see thing for you we talked about.”
    As I expected, she didn’t smother me with any sisterly affection. She gave me a “Die, you scum” look that I remembered well from our childhood, then turned her back on me to go to her office. A moment later, she was holding out an invoice to me. “It’s on here.”
    “Look, Lily,” I said, taking the sheet of paper. “About the other day, I’m sorry about my overreacting to Stan. I—”
    “Was an idiot,” she finished for me. “I don’t know why you have to go ballistic every time I date a guy. Stan is a very nice man. Not the greatest conversationalist, I’ll admit, but he certainly knows his stuff when it comes to accounting. He’s been helping me with my taxes for this year, and so far, he’s saving me a ton of money, Bobby. Although he does seem a little concerned about the profitability margin I posted from those Christmas trees.”
    She pointed at the