The Boreal Owl Murder by Jan Dunlap Page B

invoice in my hand.
    “I called them yesterday to get directions for you, but I got their answering machine instead. But there was a message on the machine.”
    Her pupils dilated and her breathing accelerated. A red flush began to creep up her neck.
    “They’ve got an absolutely unbelievable deal on ladyslippers for next month. You won’t believe this.”
    Now, we may have our differences, but I know my sister. There are only two things that consistently turn Lily White pink: 1) the prospect of big profit, and 2) tickets to Minnesota Wild hockey games.
    But the Wild wasn’t playing tonight, which meant only one thing.
    Lily was seeing big dollar signs.
    “Ladyslippers are pricey little flowers,” she said, excitement rising in her voice. “They usually sell for $150 to $200 retail, so I don’t include them in too many landscape plans. Plus, they’re hard to get. But Mrs. Anderson would really like a big garden of them in that landscape I’m working on. I told her it might not happen. But now, Very Nice Trees is offering them wholesale at $100 a plant, which means I can make a big chunk of profit.”
    “Wait a minute,” I said. “Did you say ‘per plant’?”
    Lily was grinning. “Yup.”
    “And just how many plants go in a big garden for Mrs. Anderson?”
    Lily was practically choking on her grin. “One hundred!” she finally managed to spit out. “I can make $5,000 on ladyslippers for one yard alone—and that’s selling at the low retail price. If I charge her $200 per plant, I can make—”
    “Ten thousand.” I did the math again just to be sure I had it right. Both Lily and her supplier, Very Nice Trees, stood to make ten thousand bucks each from this one transaction alone. And if Very Nice Trees had lots more ladyslippers to sell, they were going to make a bundle. I wondered just how many ladyslippers they had in stock. I couldn’t imagine their costs were that much—you just needed the right growing conditions. Like the conditions up north. Find the right spot, grow the flowers and bring home the money. In this case, a lot of money.
    Maybe, I thought, I should consider growing flowers—expensive flowers. Like ladyslippers. I could tell Mr. Lenzen to take my job and …
    I folded the invoice into my wallet. Lily was almost bouncing off the walls. But then I remembered she’d said ladyslippers were usually hard to get.
    “So, how come these people are swimming in ladyslippers?” I asked her. “You just said quantities of them weren’t exactly easy to dig up.”
    Lily rolled her eyes. “Ha ha,” she said.
    “What?” I said. “What did I say?”
    “‘Dig up,’” she replied. “Not easy to ‘dig up.’ Cheap landscaping humor, Bobby.”
    She stopped the bouncing thing and started chewing on her lip. “I know. Usually growers have very limited supplies. The availability of so many plants—expensive plants—bothers me a little. A lot, actually.”
    She leaned against the statuary.
    “I tried calling Very Nice Trees a couple more times yesterday, but never got anything but the answering machine. When I did business with them at Christmas, I didn’t have any problems. The trees were beautiful, fresh and priced great. It was a small lot like any small supplier might provide. Nothing odd, there. The trees were perfect. I even called the Better Business Bureau just to be sure there haven’t been any complaints about them.”
    “And?” I asked.
    “Nothing. No complaints.”
    She turned in her chair, looked out her window and sighed.
    “But then when Stan noted my profit from the trees, it got me thinking about it, again. I keep imagining those pickup trucks you see every spring cruising new neighborhoods with a load full of trees for sale at low, low prices. I always think they’re stolen merchandise because reputable growers don’t sell out of the back of a truck like that.” She chewed her lip again. “One hundred ladyslippers? Nobody has that many.”
    Lily turned her grey