Tulips and Trouble

Lacey Pinkerton is busy getting ready for spring at Pink's Flowers and at the same time Port Danby is bustling with activity as it prepares for its annual flea market in the town square. In the midst of it all, a talented group of artists has shown up with their easels to paint pictures of the Pickford Lighthouse. When one of the artists turns up missing and then dead, Lacey works alongside of her favorite detective, James Briggs, to solve the murder. What she doesn't expect is to end up on the murderer's short list of enemies.

I frantically pulled out my tissue to catch the sneeze, my fifth of the morning.

"Gesundheit," Ryder chirped from behind the colorful forest of tulips on the counter.

"Spring is in the air. And in my nose, apparently." With a sniffer as sensitive as mine, it made scientific sense that I'd be prone to allergies. Yet, every spring I got blindsided by the perpetual blizzard of pollen. Especially silly of me, considering I surrounded myself year round with flowers.

I picked up my pruning shears and began trimming the ends of the tulips. "I wonder why it's called hay fever, when it clearly has nothing to do with hay or fever."

"I can answer that." Ryder pushed his long bangs back from his forehead. My marvelous, multi-talented shop assistant was a veritable encyclopedia of trivia. "Back in the day—" He paused. "I wonder why we say back in the day when there is no specific day to go with it? I'll have to look up the origin of that phrase. Anyway, back some time ago, when people worked the land, runny noses and red eyes were prevalent whenever hay was being harvested."

"That explains the hay part, but what about the fever?"

Ryder tucked three yellow tulips into a slim glass vase. "Good question. Maybe it's because runny noses and red eyes also go with having the flu."

"That sounds about right." I stepped back to look at the tulip arrangements. The bright, waxy blooms ranged in color from deep, rich burgundy to magenta purple and creamy white. "Makes me want to go out and buy a pair of wooden shoes. I don't know what it is about tulips but I've never considered them as part of the flower world. They are so sturdy and solid. They're like nothing else in nature. I'm glad we opted for the Darwin tulip. I think those frilly parrot tulips would have been too much for flower arrangements. They're better in a garden landscape. They just try too hard with their flouncy petals."

Ryder laughed. "Did you just mock the parrot tulip for being an overachiever?"

"I suppose I did. I'm also glad we decided to go with the rainbow of colors instead of just the usual spring favorites. This way people can pick the colors that go with their spring table settings."

Ryder snapped his fingers and pointed at me. "Brilliant."

"Thanks?" I said with a question, not exactly sure how I'd earned the compliment.

"Rainbows. Roy G. Biv," he continued.

I squinted at him. "You've lost me. Who is Roy G. Biv, and why am I brilliant? Other than the obvious reasons, of course."

"Roy G. Biv is not a person. It's a mnemonic device." He tapped his chin as he slipped into a short mind debate, something he did a lot. "Or is it an acronym? Not sure. No, I think it's a mnemonic device."

I blinked at him. "I think my hay fever is worse than I thought because I haven't understood one word since rainbow."

Ryder shook himself out of his debate. "Sorry. Roy G. Biv is what people use to remember the colors of the rainbow. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet." He pointed to the matching tulip as he recited each color. "I'll arrange a rainbow of tulips in the front window."

"I love it. It'll attract customers while letting them know that we have a wide variety of colors available." I rounded the work island to grab Kingston's can of treats. I only had to walk to that section of the counter, and the crow started his perch dance, sliding his long, clawed feet along the wooden dowel like a skater on ice. My bird had been extra good all morning while Ryder and I worked on the tulips. He deserved a reward.