“Ryan,” I half-whispered the moment she stepped out, “I know you’re into community service and all, but don’t you think we have better things to do than search for an old lady’s flowers?”

“A flower worth over a hundred fifty thousand dollars, young man.” She called from the kitchen, and I nearly jumped out of my seat. Did the woman have hidden microphones in here or something? “I assure you that we tulip gardeners take their competitions very seriously. Why, last year’s blooms from the City managed to soundly thrash the garbage they sent over from Amsterdam. Although I grant you, this championship has a lot more riding on it than usual.”

I took a gander around the living room. Most of it looked like what you’d expect from atulip gardener’s house in the suburbs, with puffy furniture, huge jars full of desiccated cookies, and those ceramic statues of prancing lambs and rosy cheeked shepherd boys. Those things’ eyes always look like they’re following me around the room. The faded Iranian rugs did brighten up the room a bit, though. I’d seen the exact same ones in the bazaar yesterday afternoon.

We were still listening to the clatter of cups and cutlery from Mrs. Desai’s kitchen. I considered getting up to help her, but she seemed the type to be sensitive to people touching her stuff. I was settling back down in my chair when my brother tapped me on the shoulder and pointed.

It was in a dingy corner of the room, and my gaze had just passed over it earlier. It was a framed document, what looked like a… doctorate?”

“I heard you’re an adjunct professor over at Doldrum, aren’t you, Dr. Desai? For molecular biology, wasn’t it?” I winced. Doldrum was my alma mater, if you could call it that if you dropped out two years in. With her subject of choice, it made sense the two of us hadn’t crossed paths before.

“Ms. Desai will do just fine, Mr. Neville. I haven’t given a lecture at the University in years. Haven’t even gone down to the laboratories! I’m just too busy with other things! Like the tulips, for instance.” She came in with two large trays, and we both got up to help her set them down on the table.

“You boys help yourselves to the sweetmeats. Let me just pour some coffee out from the samovar for you. It’s a 19th century Tula, you know.”

Ryan took a sip from the cup she offered, and you could almost see the light off his face as he beamed at her. I drank a bit myself. It was dark, a bit sweet, and honestly just fine. My brother cleared his throat. “Okay. Right. So, the competition was to breed a blue tulip, right?”

Desai rubbed her hands together. “Oh yes. It has to be the real thing, mind, no indigos or lilacs allowed. You have to understand, boys, that we’ve managed to create tulips of almost every color at some point. Red, pink, yellow… we even managed to create a pure black one, though that took some doing. But we’ve never quite managed to crack the secret to a real blue one, which is why the competition was set up. If someone were to win it,” her filmy eyes gleamed, “the prize money would only be the tip of the iceberg for the possibilities it would create.”

I frowned. “Something tells me that if you could just breed the damned thing someone else would’ve figured it out by now.”

“They lack the required genes to activate blue pigments, or even photonic structures.” Ryan agreed, tapping his chin thoughtfully, and his eyes looking back to the doctorate on the wall. “And as far as I recall, tulips lack any neighboring species with either of those, which rules out traditional crossbreeding. Which means there’s no natural way to breed a blue tulip.
“Oh, no, sonny.” Mrs. Desai said, pulling out a piece of paper from a drawer and handing it over to Ryan. “The rules forbid the tulip bulb in question from being artificially modified to have the required gene. The prize money was raised that high for a reason. The sponsors never really expected anyone to win, only that they wanted a mass marketing stunt this year. Of course, I wouldn’t dream of cheating myself.”

I admit she sounded very sweet and believable, but I’m not that stupid. I crossed my arms. “So you’re saying it’s just a convenient little coincidence that you’re one of the few people who can cheat?”

Ryan was still studying the rules sheet. After a few moments, he looked up and smiled. “Very clever of you, Dr. Desai.”

“What?”

He tapped the paper. “The rules forbid the genetic modification of tulips. Which wouldn’t stop you from modifying a neighbor species and then crossbreeding it with tulips to get the color you wanted.” He handed the paper back. “Far be it from me to judge you. Forget the prize. If you managed to pull it off, you deserve accolades for the research alone.”

She sighed dramatically. “Oh, but I do so want to see the look on the Society’s faces when I unveil it front of the crowd. Which brings us to the problem at hand. I had already planted the right bulbs in the garden. They were budding for the first time, too. But last night some hideous cats came in and tore up the garden, ruining most of my tulips in the process. It’s Mavis’s work, I could swear to it. Her and those horrific pets of hers.” She pointed a crooked finger at us. “I’m willing to pay you a substantial sum to prove it.”

I was glad she’d brought up the subject, because I really wanted to up the standard rate for this one. I mean, this woman’s discovery was probably going to earn her millions in the flower industry. We – I mean, my brother, probably deserved a bigger cut for this case. Ryan waved away the topic. “What time did this act of sabotage occur? Did you catch it on any cameras?”

“There isn’t any CCTV for the garden, unfortunately. I’m still cursing myself for not getting it installed. It had to have happened late at night. I’m a deep sleeper, unfortunately, and I didn’t hear much. I heard the cats yowling, but that’s fairly common. And there was a kind of snap sound.” She clapped her hands together. “A bit like this. But it was late, and not very loud, and I really couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed.”

“Hmm.” Ryan’s eyes flickered in that way he does when he’s noting something in his head. I’ve got a decent memory, but even I have to write stuff down sometimes. “How long ago did these tulips start forming flowers?” He asked. “And more generally, what visitors have you been letting in the house during this period? What I’m trying to narrow down here is how many people actually knew what you were planting.”

“It started blooming only two days ago, actually. And really, I haven’t been keeping my entrance to the competition much of a secret. My assistant Jacques, a few of my competitors. Hell, my niece Ayesha visited me yesterday afternoon. Comes each week that girl, right on the dot. Always delivers my magazines.” She gestured towards a stack of gardening magazines on the coffee table, the Grand Tulip Society pamphlet right at the top.

“But still, Mr. Neville, I maintain only Mavis could’ve pulled off this sabotage. The Society counts among its membership some of the most gracious, delightful people I’ve ever met, but that woman is a born exception.”

I rolled my eyes. “And if your garden got ruined by a random stray cat, purely by accident?”

Dr. Desai gritted her teeth. “That’s possible.” She admitted. “And I understand in that situation it may be difficult to prove.” She turned to Ryan. “I’ve heard good things about you, boy. I don’t think you’ll try to swindle me. If you can’t find another explanation in a week, I’ll give you full pay.”

Ryan stood up and shook her hand. “It’s a good deal, Doctor. Now, if you have no further concerns I’d like to take a good look at the crime scene, so to speak.”

“Very well.” She pursed her cracked lips and pointed towards the door. “It leads out there. Now, I’ll leave you two to it. I’m sure I’ll only get under your feet out there. Come back in if you need any refreshments or something, I’m sure I can hustle something up.” She stepped out of the room, heading back down the hallway.

I waited for a minute or two, just to make sure she was out of earshot, then turned to Ryan. “There’s no way she planted all her literally ground-breaking flowers in that garden, right? I mean, that’s just asking for trouble.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “She does seem too intelligent for that, yeah. Plus, she was being way too casual about losing her hundred thousand dollar tulip. I have no doubt she has a backup flowering in some greenhouse somewhere.” He shrugged. “The first thing you learn in this job is that the last thing your clients want to tell you is the truth. Now come on. Let’s take a look at what we’re dealing with.”

*

I half expected the garden to look like the back of a Netherlands postcard. You know, the ones with rows and rows of colorful tulips. Maybe a windmill or two. Mrs. Desai’s place was instead a lot more varied in its choice of plants, with rows of carrots and tomatoes and even a whole section fenced off for the herbs. A tall wooden fence surrounded the whole garden, blocking the view of the rest of the neighborhood. The tulips were around the left corner of the yard, and they’d been absolutely devastated, petals and leaves strewn everywhere.

There was a gardening shed over to the side, and I was surprised to see my brother head there first. The inside was full of gardening equipment in a state of organized chaos, with carefully labelled tools and bags of fertilizer dumped wherever possible. One of the bags had gotten a tear on the side, spilling sawdust all over the floor.

I frowned. “What’s all the sawdust in here for? What is she, a carpenter?”

“It’s got quite diverse uses in gardening, actually.” Ryan said, shutting the door to the shed and completely ignoring my look of disbelief. Had he somehow stuffed Wikipedia inside his skull? I’d never seen him grow anything in my life.

My brother knelt down before he stepped onto the flowerbeds, studying the soil. The sun was out this morning, shining out sleepily in the clouds after the rain last night. The temperature was warm-ish, not quite enough to get comfortable standing out here. My brother looked up at the sky. “What time did it rain last night again?”

“Mm, I dunno. Nine? Ten? You want me to check last night’s weather forecast?”

“We probably should.” He mused. “But for now, I’ve got a more important job in mind. Where’s that camera you’ve been messing around with for the last week?”

The best thing about trying to do your hobby professionally is that you get to spend most of your day doing it. It also happens to be the worst thing about it.Photography had been my attempt to work through my writer’s block and you know, do something just for fun. I wasn’t too enthused about being roped into being Ryan’s cameraman.

On the hand, what I did really like was being able to pay rent. I pulled out my camera. It was a cheap little thing with a bright green cover and a fuzzy strap, but its photographs were still better quality than the ones on my phone. I was still at the stage of the hobby where your main job is to point at thing and ask “what is that?”, but I think I did a decent job of getting snapshots wherever Ryan was pointing.

“Two differently sized paw prints.” Ryan noted, flipping out a pocket magnifier and studying the tracks. “I’d even venture they’re different breeds – it looks like one was shedding more fur than the other. And if I’m not mistaken, one had fur long enough to create its own marks in the mud.” He picked up a sample of each hair and dropped it into two little tubes at his belt.

“Don’t you think the CSI stuff is a little much?” I asked. “It’s not like you have a forensics lab to take this samples to.”

“Don’t be so sure.” He reached out with his tweezers and pulled something up. It was a bright blue fiber that shimmered in the light. “Nylon fibers, interesting.”

He placed it in another tube, then rubbed his hands together. “All right, let’s put together what we can see here. There are only two tracks, both running away from the bed of tulips and each then climbing the wall. There are spots of blood here, some leading away, too. It’s a fight, a very vicious fight at that, but I have to wonder how these cats came in the garden in the first place.”

I scratched my head. “Couldn’t they have just jumped down from the wall?”

“Towards exactly the same spot? Maybe they were fighting on the wall and fell off… but no, that’s even weirder, even setting aside the massive coincidence they landed on this spot of all places. And there are partial tracks here… like they were trying to run off for a few steps, then came back to fight multiple times?” He tapped his fingers against the mud thoughtfully, eyes flickering silver, then looked up and grinned at me.

“This is going to be a classic, I just know it. Perfect for teaching a crime scene investigation course, really. Those photographs you just took are going to be quite useful.”

“What, you figured it out?”

He stepped back and nodded. “Enough to figure out what happened here, yes. I’ll lend you a secret. It was foul play, all right. A simple and most effective stratagem. Let’s see if you can figure it out.”

I threw my hands up. “Oh come on! You know I hate it when you bait me with this stuff. Just tell me already. It’s not like any of this is in my job purview.”

My brother shook his head. “As my assistant? It’s going to have to be. Just give it a try.”

I sighed, glared at him one final time, then took another look at the scene. Something itched at me. “Where did that nylon come from, again? You think it was a clothesline or something?”

“Quite likely, I think.” Ryan looked around. “I don’t see one anywhere here, though.”

“Torn clothing, then?” I mused. “Or…” I took another look at the tracks. The fight had ended with the two cats running away from each other, but now that I looked more closely, there was what looked like a snake going behind each of them? No that couldn’t be right.

“Someone tied the cats together?” I asked.

“Then tossed them over the wall, yep.” Ryan put his hands on his hips and studied the fence. “I can’t imagine someone climbing this, especially with two cats in their arms. That’s interesting.” He stretched. “I think you’re right about the clothesline. I doubt they would’ve clawed through it on their own, and in an unfamiliar environment, the two cats would’ve fought each other on instinct. Then once they pulled hard enough, well.” He clapped his hands together. “Snap.”

“Like what Mrs. Desai heard last night. So, we should probably tell her about this, right?”

“Give me a second.” Ryan knelt one last time over the tulips. For the first time, I took a good look at them. They really must’ve looked gorgeous before the cats had gotten to them, the buds opening up in showing hints of a rich, oceanic blue. My brother was muttering to himself, counting, before he unearthed an empty hole in the middle.

“Didn’t find what you were looking for?” I asked.

“On the contrary, I think I have.” He stood up and brushed off his trousers. “For now, I think we’ve gotten all we can from this spot.”

*

Desai had gone out for groceries, apparently, leaving written instructions to leave the latch open (unwise in light of recent events, in my opinion) and help ourselves to anything in the kitchen. Ryan didn’t even look twice, stepping out of the house as quickly as possible.

“I guess we should be checking out the rest of the Grand Tulip Society?” I asked. “I’m sure there’s a lot of people on that list. Can’t we stop for lunch or something first?”

“Time is going to be crucial in the hunt for our infamous tulip saboteur.” My brother said briskly. “Some evidence might permanently be lost, and frankly, I want to see if we can wrap this up quickly. You don’t want to spend a full week hanging out here, do you?”

I sighed. “Yeah.” This neighborhood didn’t look so bad, with its carefully manicured lawns and frequently Homeowner’s Association flyers, but the only restaurants around here were Rosemary Huts. If I had to spend a week surviving on gouda bars I might as well blow my brains out right here.

“Anyway, cheer up. Our first visit is to Mrs. Mavis, a fellow Society member famed throughout the neighborhood for despising Mrs. Desai. The two live very close to each other. In fact, here we are.” Ryan skidded to a stop. It’s hard to explain how a house can look dismal and depressing whilst painted sunflower yellow. It wasn’t that nobody was taking care of it. It just looked like whoever was doing it either had no taste or no motivation. It didn’t help that the place’s fittings practically screamed Gothic architecture.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with the Gothic aesthetic. But I tell you it looks terrible painted yellow. I felt kind of compelled to keep my eyes on the house itself, but a glance to the side indeed confirmed that the garden had plenty of tulips.

Ryan rang the bell, and we waited.

A scruffy looking teenager opened the door. He was wearing a fuzzy sweater that looked utterly bizarre in conjunction with his dark choppy hair and generous stubble. He glared at us from behind a pair of thick glasses. “Who’re you?”

“We represent the Grand Tulip Society -” Ryan began, but before he could spin a solid excuse out of it the kid turned around and yelled. “It’s your weird flower people, Gramma!”

“Let them in.” The woman called in a croaky sort of voice. “And put the kettle on for some tea. Make sure you use the chamomile packets this time, Bertie.”

I looked at the boy with sympathy. No doubt I too would be in a constant state of gloom if I had been stricken with that name. Bertie grumbled under his breath and led us into the living room. It reminded me a bit of Mrs. Desai, except with a lot more yellow. Even the cat toys and cat food and cat jungle gym had all been painted varying shades of yellow. There was a cat on the mantelpiece, a long-furred grey breed, rose its hackles and hissed at us. There was a white bandage hastily wrapped around its ear.

The young man ignored it completely, telling us to wait in a bored tone and moving on to the kitchen. I noticed the cat’s eyes followed him the whole way. I glanced at Ryan. A grey, long-furred cat… my brother met my eyes and nodded, patting the pocket where he held the vials.

But where was the second cat? The second I asked myself that question, Mrs. Mavis stepped into the room, holding another cat in her arms. This one’s fur was a glossy black and the first thing he did was yowl at his counterpart on the mantelpiece and try to wrench himself out of his owner’s arms. “There, there, Sable.” Mavis whispered, the sound strangely soothing despite her gravelly voice. She stroke the hissing feline’s head and looked up at us. “I woke up this morning to find these two bleeding. It’s strange. They were always the best of friends.” She sighed. “This is about that blue monstrosity, isn’t it?”

It took me a second to compute that she was talking about the tulip, but she didn’t let either of us get a word in. “I’m sure the whole City’s heard about it by now.” O’Connor muttered. “And of course she convinced you Society toffs to help her. She probably pointed her finger at me the first moment she could.” She stroked her cat’s head faster, but Sable seemed to be enjoying the attention now, leaning into his owner’s touch. The other cat mewled from the mantelpiece.

“You and Desai joined the Society together, yes? It’s quite a coincidence you two were living so close to each other.” Ryan said. I have to admit, he was doing a genuinely good job at looking interested in a tulip-growing rivalry.

“I don’t know where you got that idea.” She sniffed. “I was there for at least a year before Desai joined. Damned woman was always looking for some way to look superior.” Her fingers twitched, as if just itching to find a convenient neck to strangle. “Always thinking she knew better than anyone else when all she could do was mess around with her little lab and her little experiments with that fancy degree she’d always flaunt.”

She pointed at the wall, in the general direction of Desai’s house. “A truly blue tulip is not possible! No breeder could ever grow it. No one in the Society expected a claimant for the prize, and rightfully so! But, oho, Desai thought she knew better, with her filthy unholy sciences. She thought she could cheat through creating an abomination of God’s design.”

I hated to admit it, but the old geezer had a point. Not about the evils of genetic modification – I mean, farmers have spent millennia breeding crops and farm animals to be unrecognizable from their original forms – but because she did have a right to be aggrieved. Regardless of her genius, Desai had exploited a loophole that was pretty obviously against the spirit of the competition.

On the other hand, I don’t really approve of creating contests designed to be lost. Which meant the vicious old cat lady was the most morally upright participant in this affair. Ugh.

Ryan cleared his throat and decided to change the subject. “You have a lovely pair of cats, Mrs. Mavis. Why, I think I saw one of them in your garden as we came in.”

She hugged the black cat tighter to her chest, ignoring his mewl of protest. “You must be mistaken. Sable and Russo are indoor cats. They must have slipped outside last night, probably from their squabble or some other reason, but I was very careful to keep them within my sight today.”

“The outer world can be quite dangerous, especially for indoor cats,” Ryan agreed, “but surely you should at least let them out in the garden, give them a chance to enjoy the sun.”

“Especially not in the garden,” She hissed protectively, reminding me very much of her cats in that moment, “don’t you know tulips are deadly poisonous to felines? Just the tiniest bite could cause diarrhea. Some tulip grower you are.”

“I am still only a budding amateur myself, alas.” Ryan said, smoothing things over effortlessly. I think he deserves an extra point for the wordplay.

“Hmph. Bertie, Bertie where are you? The kettle boiled over ages ago! Where’s my tea?”

“Coming, Gramma.” Bertie called, coming in with a tray full of steaming cups, filled with pale golden liquid. I had to admit it smelled quite nice.

I noticed again that the cats shrunk away from him as he drew near. My brother was looking at him quite intently. Not at his face, either. At his arms. As he put the cup and saucer down, I saw the sleeves of his sweater ride up. Was that a plaster I saw on his arm just there? Ryan was frowning, clearly trying to figure out some way to call out the subject in a way that sounded natural.

“Hey, Bertie, buddy.” I said. “Roll up your sleeves.”

Bertie and his grandma both snapped their heads toward me at the same time. “What?”

“It’s not like there’s an abundance of air conditioning in this room.” I said. “Come on, roll them up.”

Mrs. Mavis opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish. Thankfully, I had another answer ready. “Ma’am, your cat, his name’s Sable, isn’t it? You should feel around his torso. There should be bruises somewhere in there, all pushed around in a ring.” I made the shape with my fingers. “You’re welcome to throw us out of the house if I’m wrong.”

The old lady didn’t look like she wanted to believe it, but there was a dawning sense of suspicion on her face. It didn’t help that her grandson had turned red, trying to sputter out an answer. “Bertrand.” She said, and this time in a very soft, almost sad voice.

He huffed and rolled up a sleeve, showing rows of bandages that failed to fully a cover up the long, vicious scratches along his arm. “Look, I was trying to pick up Sable last night and – ”

I took the opportunity to sample some of the chamomile tea. Really, it wasn’t bad at all.

*

“That was nicely done.” Ryan admitted, as we stepped out of the house. “Quite direct, but that was what required in that situation.”

I chuckled, feeling that rare glow of victory in my chest. “I wish I could say the same about you. How could you mess up interrogating a thirteen year old?”

Ryan sighed. “It was a delicate situation, and we had no authority to question him to begin with. His grandmother clearly wasn’t open to discuss the topic.”

“So… I guess case closed, then?” I frowned. “I have to admit, I can’t see a lot of motive there. Would that kid really have undergone all those scratches for just some random vandalism?”

“Yeah, no. Someone definitely paid him to do it. It might be worth going back some time and trying to get a name out of young Bertie, but I’m confident we can bring things to a satisfactory conclusion without getting him involved. I’m sure his grandmother will punish him enough.”

I sighed. “We’re gonna keep questioning tulip growers?” The sun was dipping low in the sky, the last few sunrays of the evening, shining almost directly in our eyes as we went up the hill. Station wagons and minivans alike were trundling into their little suburban driveways, all the productive members of society finally reaching home. I heard a dog barking in the distance, and suddenly yawned. “Ryan, can’t we call it a night? We have a full week for this case, after all.”

My brother shook his head. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” The gate to Mrs. Desai’s house was open, and we stepped inside just as someone came out of the front doorway.”

A young woman came down the steps and gave us a distinctly unfriendly look. She must’ve been about our age, wearing a long brown overcoat and a red headscarf, a curly lock of dark hair spilling over her forehead. “Are these the plumbers, Auntie?”

“Oh, no!” Mrs. Desai laughed. “Ayesha, these are the Neville boys. They’re here to clear up what happened with my tulips last night. Nothing too major. Mr. Neville, this is my niece.”

Ryan nodded to her. “Nice to meet you, Ayesha. It’s probably for the best that we showed up before you left, considering I’m about to accuse you of vandalism and theft.”

“Theft?” I have to give it to her, the niece could’ve been the poster girl for a picture of outraged innocence. “What in the world do you think I stole?”

Mrs. Desai’s face hardened. “If you’re going to make those kinds of accusations, you’d better have evidence to back it up.”

Ryan slipped one hand into his pocket, pulling out the vials. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He pointed towards the garden. “Now, Mrs. Desai, you were very prudent in not stepping over any footprints this morning, and calling in an investigator instead. You had the right instincts there. But if you had checked your flowerbed more closely, you would’ve noticed that one of your blue tulips had been taken. Yesterday afternoon, when Ayesha was dropping off your magazines, did she go out into the garden? Do you yourself remember checking the flowers after she left?”

Ayesha scowled. “You can’t seriously be considering this, auntie? You really think I could’ve walked out with one of your prize tulips without you seeing? How”

“That overcoat of yours would’ve done the job quite nicely. No doubt you thought that so long as you quickly transplanted the tulip into a flower pot you could keep it alive. I don’t reckon you’re much of a gardener, are you?”

“I didn’t ruin her garden! It was obviously a bloody cat! Why couldn’t the f***ing cat have eaten that missing tulip or something?”

“Because tulips are rather poisonous to cats, Miss Desai – forgive me, you haven’t told me your last name, I’m assuming it’s Desai. Either way, I know for certain which cats were the ones who ruined the garden, and neither one got sick.”

Mrs. Desai crossed her arms. “I’m still waiting for evidence, Mr. Neville.”

Ryan smiled apologetically. “Bear with me, Mrs. Desai. I simply want to make certain you have a full grasp of the facts. Here is how things went down: one of your neighbors, a young man named Bertie, tied two of his grandmother’s cats together with clothesline and threw them over your garden wall. They fought for a while until the clothesline broke, running your garden in the process. I find it frankly unbelievable the boy did this of his own accord. Someone convinced him to do it.”

“So Mavis was behind it after all.”

“So Mavis wasn’t.” Ryan rapped the tall wooden fence with his knuckles. “The cats were thrown right into the tulip patch, which is a very strange coincidence when you consider no one can see into your garden outside. Tell me, have you ever allowed Mrs. Mavis into your house? How did your grandson know where to throw the cats? Do you really he somehow snuck through your gate with two animals in his arms?”

Mrs. Desai shook her head. I could still see disbelief in her eyes, even as her niece had gone silent. “Surely there are other explanations – ”

“Perhaps. But the real reason why I discounted her is much simpler. I could certainly believe Mrs. Mavis was willing to destroy your garden. I might even believe she was vicious enough to injure her beloved cats to do so. But tell me honestly, do you really believe she’s the type of person to steal your tulip and pass it off as her own?”

Our client said nothing.

“Your tulip is a scientific breakthrough, and even then accomplished through a loophole. Anyone who was actually a member of the Grand Tulip Society would know that. There’s no way they could pretend they bred it themselves. The kind of person who might think they could, on the other hand, might be someone who skimmed through the competition rules.” He looked Ayesha. “Like someone reading a magazine, for instance.”

The younger Desai looked uncertain for the first time. “Look, Auntie, all this guy is talking about is random bullshit he probably just made up.”

“You know,” I piped up. “Bertie over there has already shown to be eminently bribable. I’m sure, if threatened with charges of vandalism, he could be convince to tell who paid him.”

Mrs. Desai saw the expression on her niece’s face change at that sudden revelation.

“One last thing.” Ryan said quietly. “Miss Desai is supposed to come here weekly, isn’t she? Are you wondering why she chose to take a surprise visit today?”

He pointed at her shoes. We all looked down. Her sneakers were covered in sawdust.

“I have to wonder what excuse she has for poking around in your gardening shed. But if I have to guess? She was trying to find the fertilizer you were using for your tulips. I doubt she’s having much success growing the one she has with her now.”

Ayesha finally decided to say something. “Look, Auntie, I just wanted to get into gardening myself. Can’t you just see everything here’s just been overblown a little?”

But she wasn’t looking at her aunt’s face, which grew sharper and more implacable with every scrambled excuse. “Ayesha, come inside. We need to discuss this further.” She said this in a soft voice, opening the door wide to let her niece enter.

Ayesha wilted under her aunt’s gaze. I even felt a little sorry for her in that moment, how that one look had turned her from a briefcase-laden adult to a teary schoolgirl. She bowed her head and stepped inside, and Ms. Desai closed the door behind them.

“Hey!” I said, about to hammer on the door. “Lady, don’t you think we’re entitled to –”

Ryan pulled me back at the last second. “Give her some space, Dy.” He muttered. “Don’t you think she deserves it, at now of all times?”

Looking back, he was probably right about that one. It took her a few weeks to remember to pay us, but she did in the end. A few months later, my brother showed me an article showing her receiving a Biology Award for her troubles, shortly after winning the Grand Tulip Championship Prize. Apparently, she managed to patent part of her process, meaning she’ll get a chunk of profits out of every new bundle of blue flowers that shows up in stores. Though part of me wonders if she’d rather have her niece.

Still, I kind of think we got short-changed in that deal. Ryan, on the other hand, seems content with the way things played out. He turned all those crime scene photos into a neat little dossier. In his opinion, it’s a perfect test of crime scene investigation skills, and I believe he’s planning to write to forensic science journals about it.

I swear, some people just find the weirdest ways to be happy.