The Silence of the Llamas Page 4

  “Have it your way.” The reporter shrugged. “If it’s not me, it will be someone else. Count on it.”

  Ellie crossed her arms over her chest but didn’t say anything. The girl turned and slowly walked away, heading back to the tents and parking lot.

  Ellie had vanquished the media this time. But the reporter had been right. They might be able to keep the incident out of the newspaper for a day or so, but once they called the police it became public record. So far, however, the Kruegers hadn’t mentioned calling the police. Which seemed odd to Lucy.

  But she held her tongue and headed off for the barn, as she’d promised. The situation was complicated enough.

  • • •

  Matt arrived a short time later. Lucy saw his old red truck racing out to the meadow. He parked at the fence and jumped down, a black medical case swinging from one hand. Ellie and Ben met him at the gate and led him out into the corral, where they had kept the llamas with the worst injuries.

  Lucy, Dana, and Dot had washed down about six of the llamas. The paint did not come off completely, but they managed to remove enough so that what remained wouldn’t be harmful to the animals when they groomed themselves.

  Or so they hoped.

  Lucy rubbed one of the llamas down with a ragged towel, speaking softly to the animal as she worked. Her name was Daphne, she’d heard Dot say. “I guess Matt will know better about that paint,” Lucy said, musing aloud. “I’ll have to ask him.”

  “Ask him right now, here he is,” Dana replied.

  Matt walked into the barn alongside Ben and Ellie, who led the other llamas on leather leads. One had an adhesive bandage on its back leg, and Buttercup wore a bandage wrapped around her head and over one eye.

  The animals looked so pathetic after their medical care, Lucy felt tearful all over again.

  “Hi, honey.” Matt greeted her with a kiss. Lucy tried to kiss him back but was holding a large soapy sponge.

  “We’ve been washing down the animals,” she explained.

  “Yes, I heard. That was a good idea.”

  “Just common sense.” Dot shrugged and smiled briefly at Matt, while also looking a little suspicious of him, Lucy thought. As if she valued practical knowledge of animal husbandry—like her own—over his book learning.

  Lucy would match her boyfriend against any farm lady in a heartbeat. He was a terrific vet and had a first-class intellect . . . and she was very proud of him.

  While most of his patients were dogs and cats, people also kept horses, goats, and other livestock as pets, especially in this area, and she had often heard Matt talk about treating them.

  “What’s the prognosis, Doctor?” Lucy used his official title for full effect.

  “As you’ve already surmised, it was a paint gun. Depending on who you ask, it’s hard to say how much the impact hurts. But without question it is strong enough to cause large, painful contusions, bone fractures, and eye injuries, depending on how and where a person—or, in this case, an animal—is hit,” Matt explained. “Lots of people wear padding when they are out having their fake battles. And if a person gets hit in the eye, it can be very serious. You can even lose your sight. Generally, people get large welts or black-and-blues, and those contusions are quite painful.”

  “What about the llamas?” Ellie asked. “Is it worse for them than humans?”

  “It is worse. They don’t have the fleshy padding on many parts of their body that humans do. There may be permanent damage to the llama hit in the eye. One other has a cracked rib, and another was hit in the head. Her skull could be fractured.” Matt spoke in a quiet, serious tone. “I can’t tell for sure unless I take an X-ray. But that animal definitely has a concussion.”

  “You mean, Buttercup? The llama that had a convulsion?” Dana asked.

  “Yes, we’ll have to see how she does tonight and over the next few days.”

  It sounded even worse when Matt described their injuries. Lucy sighed and wrung out the soapy sponge. Who could have possibly harmed the llamas this way? And why? Except for extreme, heartless cruelty, she could think of no possible reason for a sane person to do such a thing.

  Matt’s cell phone sounded, and he quickly checked a text. He pocketed the phone and turned to Lucy. “I’ve got to run. An emergency back in the village.” He knelt down and started packing his medical bag. Ellie and Ben stood by and watched him. “Have you called the police yet?” he asked. “They need to be informed. Animal abuse is a serious felony, and they need to investigate.”

  Ellie glanced at Ben, then back at Matt. “We’ll call right away. We just didn’t get a chance. With all the animals hurt and needing our help, we were totally overwhelmed.”

  “Sure. I understand.” Matt snapped the bag shut and stood up. “Please make sure you don’t forget. And you’ll have to watch the llamas tonight. There could be further reactions. Someone should sleep out here, in the barn,” he added. “You have the Valium and phenobarbital for Buttercup, in case she has another seizure. I’ll call you tomorrow to check up. But don’t hesitate to get in touch anytime if you have any questions or anything else comes up.”

  Matt was dedicated and generous with his time. Many vets were not available to their clients after office hours. When emergencies arose, a recording on the office phone told pet owners to go to the nearest veterinary ER. But when Matt said to call anytime, day or night, he meant it, and plenty of clients took him at his word. He and Lucy had only been living together since April, but Lucy had been jarred awake many times by crisis calls. Sometimes they were true life-or-death situations . . . sometimes not much more than a hair ball.

  “Dr. McDougal, thank you so much for running over here. You’ve been great.” Ellie reached out and shook his hand.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Ben added, also shaking Matt’s hand. “This must have been a little overwhelming for you, like walking onto a battlefield.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. But it is one of the strangest calls I’ve ever made.”

  Llamas hit by paint balls? Not covered in most veterinary medical courses, Lucy guessed.

  He glanced over at Lucy, and they shared a private smile. He seemed to be reading her mind, as so often happened.

  She walked over and touched his arm. “I’ll walk you to your truck. What’s up in town?”

  “That was the Mrs. Guthrie,” he told her as they left the barn. “Holly started her labor and she’s already having trouble breathing. This might take a while.”

  Holly was a purebred English bulldog—a show dog, in fact—who suffered from the breathing problems typical of breeds with squashed-up faces. Poor Holly had been through a tough pregnancy. Lucy had heard all about it, the ups and downs of the expectant, four-footed mother-to-be. She’d been tempted to knit several sets of puppy-size booties, as a baby gift. But she’d managed to resist.

  “You’re jumping from one emergency to the next tonight, Doc. Good luck.” She kissed him quickly as he hopped back into the truck and flung his bag on the passenger seat. “Text me when you know how many puppies Holly has,” she added with a grin.

  “Will do. See you at home later.”

  “I’ll be there,” Lucy promised. She watched Matt drive off the property, then headed back to the barn. She saw Maggie and Phoebe walking just ahead of her and they all walked through the big open doors at about the same time.

  As they entered the barn, she heard Dot say, “I’ll stay out here tonight and keep an eye on things. I’ll just set up a little cot and get my radio.”

  “I’ll stay,” Ben replied. “It might not be safe.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” Dot scoffed at him. “Nobody’s coming back with the paint gun. That was such a cowardly act. They wouldn’t have the nerve to try that again. If Buttercup has another spell, you’ll have to call me anyway.” She sighed and hung her head. “I feel so bad about this, folks. I should have been watching them closer, with all those strangers on the property. I left them too long in the meadow. I got off
the usual schedule, bringing hay and water to the animals in the viewing tents. I should have—”

  “Dot, please. It’s nobody’s fault. We would never blame you, of all people, for this.” Ellie patted her shoulder and glanced at Ben for backup.

  “Ellie is right. Please don’t be so hard on yourself. Someone was determined to hurt our animals today. There wasn’t anything we could do about it. Why don’t we all take turns tonight, a few hours each. We’ll work it out later.”

  Dot nodded. “All right. I’m going back to my cottage. I need to change out of these dirty clothes. I think the llamas will be fine for now. Dr. McDougal gave them all sedatives.”

  “Go take care of yourself,” Ellie urged her. “I’m ready for a glass of wine. Would anyone like to come up to the house for a few minutes? You’ve all been such good sports about helping out. I’d feel awful if you just ran off. Please stay and have a drink or a bite to eat with us.”

  Maggie was the first to reply. “That’s very nice of you to offer, Ellie. I have no plans. But I can’t answer for everyone.”

  Phoebe looked horrified. “Can’t hang here . . . but thanks anyway,” she added. She glanced quickly at Maggie. “Josh has a gig in Gloucester, remember? We have to pick up all the equipment and stuff in Ipswich. I should have been back to town by now.”

  Maggie held up her hand up like a crossing guard. “I get it. I had a feeling you’d say something like that.”

  It took a few minutes to sort it out, but finally Lucy’s friends decided that Suzanne would take Phoebe back to town in Lucy’s Jeep. Lucy and Dana would stay at the farm with Maggie, who would drive them back to the village a little later.

  Lucy was glad to stay a little longer. With Matt playing doula to a bulldog, she just would have been hanging out at home, waiting for him. She was eager to hear what Ellie and Ben had to say about this strange incident and if they had any idea of who might be behind it.

  She’d picked up several hints that the paint ball attack wasn’t entirely a surprise, or the only time there had been some vandalism at the farm. Lucy wondered about that and hoped to get the full story. She had a feeling her friends did, too.

  Chapter Three

  Back at the house, the Kruegers’ front parlor felt like a safe haven after the harrowing afternoon.

  While Ben chose a bottle of wine from a well-stocked rack, Lucy and her friends chose seats. Lucy made herself comfortable in a big, soft armchair. Ellie had good taste and spared no expense. Lucy guessed she had bought all new furnishings to suit the antique house and left her city belongings behind with her former life. There were lace curtains and love seats covered with a floral pattern and side tables that looked suitably shabby-chic. A vintage rocker and leather armchair flanked the fireplace, and a Tiffany-style lamp shed a soft glow over all, lending the room a very cozy feeling.

  Ben worked a corkscrew into a bottle of pinot noir. “I have to be honest. When I first saw those poor animals, I felt as if we were under attack. I didn’t know what to expect next.” He paused and pulled out the cork, which made a loud pop, reminding Lucy of the way Phoebe had described the sound of the paint ball gunshots.

  “Were you the first to find them?” Maggie asked as Ben handed her a glass of wine.

  “No, Dot was. The sheep-herding demonstration had just ended and I had helped Jack Gibbons get the sheep back on his trailer. We just borrowed them for the fair,” he explained. “I came back up to the house to wash up and change my shirt. I smelled pretty nasty after wrangling those animals,” he admitted with a laugh. “Dot called me on the walkie-talkie. I couldn’t understand what she was saying. Or I thought I didn’t understand her. I mean, it sounded so bizarre. I ran down to the meadow and . . . well, you all know what I saw.”

  Lucy thought he was about to say more, but Ellie breezed in with a platter of appetizers and set it down on the pedestal table by the love seat.

  “Here’s a little something to munch on. I was running around all day and didn’t even eat lunch. I made the vegetable pâté myself,” she added. “Tell me how you like it. I want to sell it in the store.”

  Lucy had not eaten lunch, either, and everything looked good. There were three kinds of cheese, a square of pâté, thin slices of apple, and slices of a dark grain baguette.

  “The apples are from our orchards, of course, and the goat cheese from the farm down the way. Eden Farm, I think they call it,” Ellie explained, taking a seat. “They’re hippies—well, what we used to call hippies. Anyway, they make the most fabulous cheese. Live and let live, right?” She shrugged and sat down in an armchair near her husband.

  “If only it were so simple, Ellie.” Ben took a sip of wine and gazed at his wife. “That might be our philosophy. But all of our neighbors surely don’t share it.”

  “Do you think one of your neighbors is behind the attack on the animals?” Maggie asked.

  Ellie glanced at her husband. When he didn’t answer, she said, “We really don’t know. It could have been . . . anybody.”

  “Oh, Ellie, what’s the difference? We know who it is. Justin Ridley. He’s the only one who could have done this. The only one who has any reason to harass us. Who believes he has a reason,” he corrected himself.

  “We don’t have any proof of that, Ben. We can’t go around accusing the man. There are laws about slander.”

  “It’s not slander if it’s true,” Ben countered.

  Dana leaned forward and took an apple slice from the platter. “Who’s Justin Ridley? Does he live nearby?”

  “Right next door. The property to the east.” Ellie waved her hand in that direction. “He’s very eccentric. We tried to be friendly to him when we moved in. But he seemed to despise us on sight.”

  “The guy is crazy. Paranoid,” Ben added. “Somebody told me he’d been a career military man but was tossed out with some psychological disability. He’s a loner. Sort of a survivalist, I guess you’d say. He’s off the grid. Drinks water from his own well, has solar and wind power rigged up all over the place. He doesn’t cultivate his land at all. There are just acres and acres of weeds back there.”

  “I was miserable during ragweed season,” Ellie cut in. “It wasn’t pretty.”

  “Who knows what he’s growing. Weeds of all kinds, for fun and profit, I bet. I can’t see how he supports himself otherwise.” Ben’s tone was harsh, his meaning somewhat nebulous, but Lucy got the general drift. He suspected Ridley was cultivating marijuana along with the ragweed.

  Was that possible? Wouldn’t someone have noticed by now? she wondered. Whatever the truth of the matter, it was clear that Justin Ridley got under Ben’s skin in the worst way.

  “He is odd,” Ellie added. “You rarely see any activity there during the day. But he roams around in the middle of the night, like a vampire or something. With these two crazy hunting dogs.”

  “And a loaded gun,” Ben added, his voice rising on an urgent note. “He’s shooting at raccoons or chipmunks or something . . . in the middle of the night.”

  “Chipmunks don’t come out at night,” Ellie gently reminded him. “They sleep, in burrows. I read about it before we moved here,” she told her friends. “I wanted to know more about the local wildlife.”

  “Chipmunks, raccoons, what’s the difference? He obviously takes pleasure in killing poor defenseless animals. That’s my point. I guess we’re lucky he didn’t shoot our llamas with real bullets.”

  “Ben, please. This seems like something he’d do. But we don’t know for sure.”

  “We didn’t know for sure about the other times. But this one has Ridley’s name all over it, Ellie,” he insisted.

  Ellie didn’t answer. She looked over at the women. “There have been other incidents since we moved here,” she admitted. “Nothing nearly this violent, though.” Then she sighed and sipped her wine.

  “Other incidents? Like what?” Maggie leaned forward, looking concerned.

  “Childish pranks,” Ellie answered. “I found the mailbox
stuffed with animal dung a few times. Annoying, but hardly life-threatening. And there were broken flowerpots all over the lawn in the front of the house. That happened a few times.”

  “That’s how it started,” Ben clarified. “There was more.”

  He offered the women more wine, but no one wanted a refill. He filled his own glass again, Lucy noticed. It might have been his third. But who was counting? Well, she was, she realized. He wasn’t driving tonight. What was the difference? He was in his own home, and it had been a very stressful day.

  “The barn was broken into and some tools tossed around and bent, animal feed spilled out all over the place. Everything was generally messed up. Oh, our little Country Store was trashed once in the middle of the night, too,” he added. “That was a few weeks ago.”

  “A big mess,” Ellie conceded. “A few dollars stolen out of the cash box. But it was more the breakage. Jars of jam and herbal hand lotion we sell smeared on our T-shirts. Apples all spilled out and smashed. There was a lot of yarn ruined, and they broke one of my spinning wheels.” She barely looked at them as she recited these woes but tugged nervously at the fringe of a pillow that was in her lap.

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Maggie sympathized.

  “All these things have happened since you moved in?” Dana sounded shocked. She was Ellie’s friend but obviously had not been taken into the Kruegers’ confidence. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  Ellie glanced up, then looked away. “I didn’t want to worry you. We were dealing with it. I think it sounds worse when we describe it than it actually was at the time.”

  Lucy wondered if that were true, or if Ellie was just trying to downplay the situation, even deny it, for some reason.

  “What do the police think?”

  Ellie glanced at her husband. He set his mouth in a grim line but didn’t say anything. “We haven’t told the police,” she said finally.

  “You haven’t? Why not?” Dana sat up, looking even more shocked by this revelation. “Hasn’t your insurance company asked for a police report?”