The Silence of the Llamas (5 page)

“That’s me. I’m sorry. You’re a little late. The festival is . . . winding down a little earlier than scheduled,” Ellie said vaguely. She was trying hard to summon up her professional persona. But Lucy could see it was a struggle.

“Oh, too bad. I got held up on another story. But looks like you have something going on out here. Someone said the llamas were shot? Is that true?”

Ellie’s eyes widened with alarm. “Shot with paint. A paint gun. It was probably just a bad joke, I’m sure—”

“Yes, I see. When did this happen? Just now?”

“We’re not sure. I really don’t have anything to say about this situation. We’d prefer not to have it in the paper.”

“Sure, I understand. Mind if I take a few pictures?” The young woman had taken out a camera and had it positioned in front of her face before Ellie could answer.

“I do mind.” Ellie took a step and blocked her view. “Did you hear a word I just said? It was probably just a stupid joke. Write about the festival and the farm, the positive side of the event. That’s the only story we’re giving out today.”

She held her hand up so the picture would be ruined, but Lucy wasn’t sure that she’d succeeded. Jessica Newton seemed persistent on breaking this hot news. There wasn’t much excitement in Plum Harbor. This was a real scoop, from her point of view.

“I’ll cover the fair, don’t worry,” the reporter promised. “But you can’t keep this out of the paper, Mrs. Krueger. People are already talking about it. Once the police get involved, it will be on the blotter, public record.”

The police had not been called. Yet. But Ellie didn’t tell that to the reporter. She drew in a deep breath.

“Look, young lady, I asked you politely not to put this in the paper. If we see an article, your publisher will hear from our attorney. Please leave. This is private property. Is that clear?”

The reporter finally seemed to pay attention and cast Ellie an admonished look. Or was faking it just to keep the peace, Lucy thought.

“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.

B
ack 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.