The Silence of the Llamas

  “The Black Sheep knitting series has it all: Friendship, knitting, murder, and the occasional recipe create the perfect pattern. Great fun.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Jayne Ann Krentz

  Praise for Till Death Do Us Purl

  “An entertaining mystery.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “[A] smooth fourth knitting cozy.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Till Death Do Us Purl has intriguing mysteries and a slew of interesting characters.”

  —Single Titles

  “Enthusiastic, engrossing, and exciting.”

  —The Mystery Gazette

  Praise for A Stitch Before Dying

  “Sure to hook cozy fans.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Congenial characters and a mystery that keeps you guessing.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Sure to attract readers of Sally Goldenbaum and Barbara Bretton.”

  —Library Journal

  Praise for Knit, Purl, Die

  “The fast-paced plot will keep even non-knitters turning the pages.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “An intriguing mystery with a few surprising twists and turns.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “An engaging story full of tight knit friendships and a needling mystery.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  Praise for While My Pretty One Knits

  “The crafty first of a cozy new series. . . . The friendships among the likable knitters . . . help make Canadeo’s crime yarn a charmer.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Fans of Monica Ferris . . . will enjoy this engaging amateur sleuth as much for its salute to friendship as to Lucy’s inquiry made one stitch at a time.”

  —The Mystery Gazette

  “Delightful. Enchanting. Humorous. Impressive. Witty. Those are just a few adjectives to describe Anne Canadeo’s effervescent cozy debut.”

  —Book Cave

  “A unique murder mystery. . . . Fast-paced and electrifying. . . . A series you are sure to enjoy.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “The diverse group of friends and their heartwarming camaraderie is what makes While My Pretty One Knits an enjoyable read.”

  —Kwips and Kritique

  Meet the Black Sheep Knitters

  Maggie Messina, owner of the Black Sheep Knitting Shop, is a retired high school art teacher who runs her little slice of knitters’ paradise with the kind of vibrant energy that leaves her friends dazzled! From novice to pro, knitters come to Maggie as much for her up-to-the-minute offerings like organic wool as for her encouragement and friendship. And Maggie’s got a deft touch when it comes to unraveling mysteries, too.

  Lucy Binger left Boston when her marriage ended, and found herself shifting gears to run her graphic design business from the coastal cottage she and her sister inherited. After big-city living, she now finds contentment on a front porch in tiny Plum Harbor, knitting with her closest friends.

  Dana Haeger is a psychologist with a busy local practice. A stylishly polished professional with a quick wit, she slips out to Maggie’s shop whenever her schedule allows—after all, knitting is the best form of therapy!

  Suzanne Cavanaugh is a typical working supermom—a realtor with a million demands on her time, from coaching soccer to showing houses to attending the PTA. But she carves out a little “me” time with the Black Sheep Knitters.

  Phoebe Meyers, a college gal complete with magenta highlights and nose stud, lives in the apartment above Maggie’s shop. She’s Maggie’s indispensable helper (when she’s not in class)—and part of the new generation of young knitters.

  Thank you for purchasing this Gallery Books.

  * * *

  Join our mailing list and get updates on new releases, deals, bonus content and other great books from Gallery Books and Simon & Schuster.

  CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP

  or visit us online to sign up at

  eBookNews.SimonandSchuster.com

  Content

  Epigraph

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Notes from the Black Sheep Knitting Shop Bulletin Board

  Laughing Llama Perfect Pie Crust

  Carrot Muffins with Applesauce

  About Anne Canadeo

  Good fences make good neighbors.

  —ROBERT FROST

  A story is told as much by silence as by speech.

  —SUSAN GRIFFIN

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank Paige Gaffett for the helpful information about the production of handmade yarns and exotic fibers. I can’t imagine a more beautiful, or unspoiled, location for such an enterprise than Northern Light Fibers, LLC, located on Abrams Farm, Block Island, Rhode Island, where I researched this book. You can visit Northern Lights on the web at: www.northlightfibers.com to learn more about their handmade products and classes.

  I’d also like to thank some good friends for donating recipes: Linda Bryce Sheldon, health coach and nutritionist, who passed along instructions for Carrot Muffins with Applesauce, and Reverend Mark Bigelow for the Perfect Pie Crust recipe. I have personally tested both and the outcomes were delicious. (Yes, all this research is tough work. But somebody has to do it.)

  Chapter One

  Just this last stop . . . please?” Suzanne reached over the driver’s seat and grabbed Lucy’s shoulder, nearly causing her to veer into a field of pick-your-own pumpkins.

  “Suzanne, calm down—”

  “But they’re gigantic. You never see pumpkins that big at the supermarket.”

  “We’ve already bought enough stuff to open our own supermarket.” Dana sat beside Lucy in front and suddenly turned to look back at Suzanne—as if they were two parents, calming a child on a long car ride, Lucy thought. “You’re a shopaholic on a farm stand binge today, Suzanne. One more stop and we’ll definitely be enabling.”

  Dana’s diagnosis was in jest, of course, though a PhD did qualify her to offer the opinion.

  And it was true. Lucy could barely see through the Jeep’s rear window. The cargo space overflowed with autumn’s bounty—huge pots of mums, kale plants, and enough cornstalks to decorate every house on Suzanne’s block. A pile of pumpkins, bushels of apples and vegetables, jars of apple butter, and containers of cider filled the cargo area, along with a homemade pie, balanced on Suzanne’s lap.

  “Thanks, Dana.” Suzanne’s tone was grumpy. “Joy sucker.”

  Lucy laughed. “Sorry, pal. She’s right . . . and we’re already way late.”

  Suzanne seemed to have forgotten that their leisurely drive through the country had a definite destination: a fiber festival at the Laughing Llama Farm.

  Suzanne sat back and sighed. “Fine. We don’t want to keep the llamas waiting.”

  “Never mind the llamas. What about Maggie? I’m surprised she didn’t call yet to track us down.” Dana checked her phone, then glanced at Lucy.

  “She’s probably too busy. Luckily.”

  “I hope we don’t miss her spinning. Then we’ll really be in trouble.” Lucy couldn’t tell if Dana was kidding or truly worried.

  Lucy thought Maggie might wonder where they were but wouldn’t really be upset if they missed her performance. They had all seen her spin dozens of times at the knitting shop she
ran in the village.

  Lucy, Dana, and Suzanne, along with Maggie and her assistant, Phoebe, met officially every Thursday night to stitch, chat, and unwind—either at the Black Sheep Knitting Shop, which Maggie owned, or at one of their houses. Their meeting time was a sanctuary, carved into busy schedules, a time to share their triumphs and challenges, in knitting as well as real life. Though sometimes it was hard to tell where one realm left off and the other started.

  Dana had been looking out the passenger side window and suddenly turned to Lucy. “The farm should be coming up on the right, a few miles more.”

  Lucy had never been out to the farm before, though Dana had come out several times to see her old college friend Ellie Krueger, who had bought the property with her husband, Ben. Suzanne was familiar with the place, too, since she was in real-estate sales and the farm had been on the market a while.

  Ellie and Ben had recently moved to Plum Harbor from Boston, trading in their urban lives for a new start in the idyllic countryside. They had taken over the farm in July, but the festival was their grand opening event. Dana had quickly introduced Ellie to the Black Sheep Knitting Shop and its inner circle.

  Ellie had even come to a few knitting group meetings over the past few months, though starting up her business and living some distance out of town kept her from being a regular member.

  Dana and Ellie had lost touch over the years but had reconnected on Facebook. When Ellie had come out to visit the previous spring, she and her husband fell in love with Plum Harbor and the farming community just beyond the village center. She and Ben had been talking about relocating to the country and starting some sort of home-based business. Ellie had run a successful public relations firm for years and recently had sold the company for a good price. She was more than ready to turn a page in her life and start a whole new chapter.

  Combining Ellie’s love of knitting and spinning with Ben’s entrepreneurial experience, they’d decided to look for a small farm where they could keep a llama herd and profit from the sale of the animals’ coats and from Ellie’s hand-spun yarns. This farm was perfectly suited to their plan, and a moneymaking apple orchard on the property made it even more attractive.

  Ellie was a skilled knitter, but spinning was her true passion. She had also begun to give spinning and weaving lessons in a little extra building near the barn that she’d set up as a studio and shop. Yarns spun from exotic fibers were a booming market, sought after by discerning knitting shops and knitters. Maggie already featured Laughing Llama yarns at her shop.

  Starting a llama farm had to sound like an odd choice to some people. But to dedicated knitters, like Lucy and her friends, it seemed an enviable lifestyle—being your own boss, living in such beautiful surroundings, and following your fiber bliss.

  “There’s a sign for the festival: ‘Follow the Laughing Llama for a day of country fun.’ ” Lucy read aloud.

  “Very cute. Ellie has a knack for marketing,” Suzanne observed.

  Ellie was definitely a good businesswoman, very creative and resourceful, Lucy thought. Lucy had visited a few fiber fairs since taking up knitting. Most were pleasant but low-key affairs, though this one promised to be a very lively afternoon.

  Dana turned to face Suzanne. “Ellie’s PR firm used to handle some big clients. Advertising the farm is a no-brainer for her. She took a full page in the Plum Harbor Times.” Dana took a page of newspaper out from her pocket and read aloud. “ ‘Laughing Llama Farm—Grand Opening Fiber Festival. Come out to the country for a day of family fun. Llamas, alpaca, and angora rabbits on display. Watch sheepherding, shearing, and spinning. Handmade yarns and rovings for sale in our old-fashioned Country Store. Activities for children, and much more.’ ” Dana finished reading and turned to Lucy. “I bet there’s a crowd. Ellie rarely does things halfway. She’s always been like that.”

  “She’s got a lot going on. Do they keep all those animals?” Lucy asked.

  Dana folded the newspaper and put it aside. “Only the llamas. The others are borrowed for the day.”

  “Phoebe must be in her glory. She might decide to leave the shop and ask Ellie for a job,” Suzanne said.

  Maggie’s assistant, Phoebe Meyers, did love animals. But Lucy couldn’t imagine her leaving the knitting shop, even for a herd of llamas. A part-time college student, Phoebe lived above the store and worked odd hours as Maggie’s assistant between classes . . . and between chasing her boyfriend Josh’s band around in her second, unofficial job as their road manager.

  “I think she enjoys petting them but wouldn’t be wild about mucking out barns,” Dana replied. “She’s probably just relieved that Maggie didn’t ask her stay in town and keep the shop open on her own.”

  Lucy laughed at that scenario. “Maggie is too nice a boss to ever do that . . . and we all know Phoebe would have pouted for a month.” A knot of cars up ahead suddenly slowed, and Lucy hit the brakes. “I think we made it. This looks like the line to get in.”

  As the Jeep crawled along, Lucy relaxed and stared out at the dark brown plowed fields, rolling meadows, and patches of woods in between. The trees were just starting to show color and shed a few leaves. Low walls built of flat gray stones bordered the road and separated properties, a typical sight in this part of New England.

  The Kruegers’ farm came up on the right side of the road. Lucy saw a wide, rolling meadow covered by high brown grass. A large circle of white corral fencing, several feet high, enclosed a group of camel-like creatures. Some stood grazing, while others stared blankly at the parade of passing vehicles. A shed made of wooden boards, open in front, stood behind them. One or two animals stood under the peaked roof—seeking a cool shady spot, Lucy guessed. A short distance from the corral she saw a large barn—the classic combination, bright red with white trim, like something from a picture book.

  “Look . . . the llamas.” Suzanne sat up in her seat. “Wow, there’s a gang of them. I didn’t realize the Kruegers owned so many.”

  The correct term was probably “herd,” Lucy thought. But Lucy shared Suzanne’s surprise. There were a lot of llamas out there. It probably took a lot of exotic fur to spin any profit from this enterprise. The Kruegers had made a big investment. A risky one, too, she thought, when you considered that they had come out here without any experience in country living, to hear Dana tell it.

  “Ellie told me they own ten or twelve. They bought the whole herd from a couple in upstate New York who were retiring and selling their own farm,” Dana explained. “How many llamas do you need to start a business selling yarn? Is a dozen enough?” Lucy asked curiously.

  “Oh no, not nearly,” Dana replied. “Ellie told me that it takes about three to six ounces of fiber to spin an average skein of yarn. Each llama only yields five to ten pounds of fleece when they’re sheared. Which can be once a year. Or sometimes, every other. So Ellie needs to buy fiber from other sources. Other farms, and even silk and bamboo. She said she’d need a herd of two or three hundred to keep the business going otherwise. But she and Ben like having their own herd to make the place feel like a real farm. She says it’s a good group, too. The llamas are well trained and very people friendly.”

  “And Matt says they’re all healthy,” Lucy added, mentioning her boyfriend, who was a veterinarian and had become another knitting circle referral for the Kruegers.

  “You can train a llama? What, to do tricks?” Suzanne asked.

  Lucy laughed at the idea, but Suzanne was serious.

  Dana glanced at her. “I’m not sure about tricks. But they are very smart. They can come when you call their name. Or pull a cart. Or guard flocks of other animals, like sheep.”

  “A guard llama? Never heard of that,” Lucy said.

  “Ellie says some are even used for animal therapy,” Dana continued.

  Suzanne laughed. “You’re kidding . . . right?”

  “Not at all. Llamas are very calm, gentle animals. People feel peaceful and secure in their company. Though I doubt Ellie will
train any in her herd for special jobs. She and Ben don’t have the time right now, for one thing. But llamas do bond well with people, and Ellie seems to think of them as pets. That could also be because she and Ben aren’t, well, real farmers yet,” Dana admitted with a smile. “They do tend to anthropomorphize.”

  “I love you, Dana. But can you please speak English? Some of us in the backseat are little slow,” Suzanne said politely.

  “You are anything but, pal,” Dana replied with a laugh. “I meant that they treat the llamas as if they were people, attributing human characteristics to their behavior. The llamas even have cute human names.”

  “The way Lucy acts about her dogs, you mean.”

  “Yes, that’s it exactly.” Dana nodded and glanced at Lucy.

  “As if I’m the only person in this car who does that,” Lucy countered. She gave Dana a look. She didn’t reply but had the good grace to blush a little and stare out the window.

  Everyone knew Dana had no perspective at all about her pedigreed Maine coon cat, Arabelle, that Lucy considered totally insane.

  “Here we are, just in time,” Lucy announced. In time to avoid an argument about the superiority of dogs over cats.

  The farm’s open gates came into view, decorated with blue and yellow helium balloons and a wide banner that read “Laughing Llama Farm ~ Grand Opening Fiber Festival.”

  They turned onto the property and followed a dirt road. A large old farmhouse appeared on the right, and Lucy slowed the car so they could get a good look at it.

  “What a beauty. Looks like it was built back in the eighteen hundreds,” Suzanne guessed.

  Lucy had to agree. She loved old houses, and this one was a classic, a two-story eyebrow colonial with a long front porch and a row of small square windows below the roofline. It looked newly painted, the clapboard a buttery yellow color with white trim, dark green shutters, and a red door. A planter made from an old milk can stood near the front steps, displaying pink geraniums and trailing vinca vines.