The Silence of the Llamas

by Anne Canadeo

Maggie watched her a moment, then said, “The newspaper said that you live in Portland. Did you grow up there?”

  “Yes, I did. My parents divorced when I was six months old. It was a very bitter breakup. My mother got full custody and took me to the West Coast. She had family there. I didn’t meet my father until I was in high school. That was pretty difficult,” she admitted. “When I was a teenager, I thought he was such an oddball. But as I got older, I came to appreciate him. He wasn’t like other people. I’m very angry about the way he died. But in a way, I’m not surprised.”

  Maggie’s eyes widened at that admission. “Why do you say that? Did he ever tell you that he’d been threatened by anyone around here?”

  “No . . . he never said that. But he was so different. He didn’t fit in, and he didn’t even want to. People lash out at things they don’t understand. And at people they don’t understand. It’s out of fear, mainly. I see it all the time.”

  Maggie found this turn in the conversation surprising. She sat in the chair across from Janine. “You do? How is that? . . . If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I don’t mind. I’m a school counselor. I specialize in children who’ve been bullied.”

  Something about that made sense to Maggie. Janine Ridley seemed intelligent and self-aware. She could easily see her working with misfit children.

  She was also as open and forthcoming as her father had been closed and antisocial. Maybe it was her West Coast upbringing or her background as a therapist. Or maybe the atmosphere of the shop and the relaxing knitting break had helped her open up.

  Maggie wondered if she was asking too many questions now and would offend the young woman by seeming too nosy. But Janine Ridley was alone in town, handling a very heavy situation, and she did seem to want to talk to somebody.

  “I guess you have a lot to do, sorting out your father’s affairs, settling his estate.”

  “Not really. He was very organized that way. The last time I visited him here, he told me everything I need to know. There’s a good lawyer in town handling his will.” Janine sighed and put aside two more of the skeins. “I can’t go into his house yet. The police are still looking for clues. I wouldn’t stay there anyway. But I am worried about his dogs. He had two beautiful hunting dogs, Thelma and Louise.”

  “Those were the names of his dogs, Thelma and Louise?” Maggie couldn’t quite believe it. From all she’d heard, she’d never once imagined Justin Ridley as the type to pick amusing pet names.

  Janine glanced at her and guessed what she was thinking. “Oh, he didn’t name the dogs. The names were on the papers when he bought them. He’d never heard of the movie, and when I tried to explain it, he wasn’t very interested. He didn’t care much about popular culture. Didn’t even own a TV set.” Janine smiled, remembering, and Maggie wasn’t surprised to hear that. “He never mentioned it, but I think he would have wanted me to take care of them,” Janine continued. “Find them homes or something. The police said they were left at a shelter. I felt bad about that. I’m going to look for them tomorrow. But I don’t know what to do after that. I can’t keep them with me. I’m staying at a B-and-B in the village. Do you know a place where I can board the dogs for a while? Someplace nice. Where the dogs will be treated well?”

  Maggie didn’t have to consider the question very long. “There’s a good vet in town who might board them for you and help find homes. The office is just down Main Street, Harbor Animal Hospital. The vet’s name is Matt McDougal. Tell him I recommended him to you.”

  Of course, she’d alert Lucy about this situation, too.

  “Thanks.” Janine nodded. She seemed relieved. “I’ll go talk to him tomorrow. That’s one thing I can do for my father. The only other thing I can do is stay here until the police catch his killer. I think I owe him that much.”

  Maggie didn’t know what to say. It could take a long time to close this investigation. From what she’d heard so far, the police had barely scratched the surface.

  Janine held out the skein she’d finally selected for Maggie to see. “I like this blue-gray color. I think it will work well for the sleeves. And maybe a border.”

  “Good choice. Let’s see. . . . Looks like you’ll need four skeins altogether. I’ll get three more from the back.”

  A short time later, Maggie had packed up the purchase. Janine took the bag and thanked her.

  “If you have any other knitting needs, or want to start another project while you’re in town, you know where to come,” Maggie said as she was leaving.

  “Thanks, but I hope I’m not here that long. I think the police will figure this out very quickly.”

  She sounded confident of that. Maggie wondered if Janine had learned today that the investigation had made some new progress.

  But she didn’t feel bold enough to ask her that.

  “I hope the police do figure this out quickly,” Maggie said sincerely. A quick resolution would help everyone involved—Janine Ridley and Ben and Ellie.

  Of course, as soon as the shop door closed, Maggie could hardly wait to share the news that she’d just had a long chat with Janine Ridley.

  But even Phoebe had disappeared up to her apartment. Maggie decided to send a quick e-mail to everyone before she closed up and headed home.

  Dear Friends,

  You’ll never guess who just left the shop. Janine Ridley—daughter and sole surviving relative of the deceased, in case you didn’t read the paper today. She’s come to town to settle his estate and turns out she knits. She greatly resembles her father. But very talkative and forthcoming. Didn’t take after him that way. It was interesting to see him through her eyes. That’s all I’ll say for now. It’s been a long day and I need to head home . . . and work on my own knitting.

  XO Maggie

  Maggie was still cleaning up and closing out the register when the replies started flying back.

  Phoebe’s note didn’t even have a salutation:

  Boo Radley’s daughter was here!? Why didn’t you tell me?! I never get the good customers . . . P

  The next was from Lucy, replying to all:

  Guess this answers our questions, Maggie. ie: If they got along and if she’d come to town. But now I have a lot more questions. Will try to stop by before the Thursday night meeting if I can. It’s at Dana’s this week, right? (Please warn me ASAP if it’s my turn . . .)

  xo—L.

  Dana replied to all as well:

  Want to hear more about Janine Ridley, too. What luck that she’s a knitter. But we’re all separated by just six degrees. (Knitters by a stitch or two?) Yes, Lucy, it’s my turn. But can we meet tomorrow night, instead of Thursday? I don’t want to miss the meeting at village hall, about the open space laws. Sorry to change the plan at the last minute. Let me know what you all think.

  xo Dana

  A few more negotiating notes flew among them, and Maggie and her friends agreed to meet at Dana’s house on Tuesday night.

  It had seemed like a good solution for all, but when Tuesday rolled around, the timing was a little tight for Maggie. She taught a class that ended at seven. She had to hurry her students out of the shop a few minutes early, then raced over to Dana’s house.

  Phoebe had to be at school, so she wasn’t coming at all. Ellie had been included in the second round of e-mails, but Maggie didn’t see her SUV in the driveway. Maggie wasn’t surprised. She imagined that all the stress of the investigation had been very tiring for Ellie and she probably didn’t have the energy to come into town at night.

  She hadn’t been in touch with Ellie since the visit on Sunday and wondered if the police investigation had officially eliminated Ben yet. From what Janine Ridley had said, it didn’t seem so.

  The front door of Dana’s house was open, and Maggie called out a greeting as she walked in. “Hello? It’s just me.”

  “We’re in here,” Dana called back from the living room, just off the entrance hall.

  Maggie knew her way by now to the spot where he
r friends were assembled.

  Dana’s taste was sleek and clutter-free—Zen-inspired, Maggie always thought—but comfortable, nonetheless. The group sat on the leather sectional in front of the fireplace and a dramatic black granite mantel that was topped by a few pieces of exotic-looking pottery. A tapestry Dana and Jack had found somewhere in South America hung on the wall above.

  Maggie was glad to see a large fire shimmering in the hearth. She took a seat nearby and felt warmed by the flames, the greetings of her good friends, and a sip of red wine from the glass Dana handed down to her.

  A large slate-topped table, set between the couches, was covered with appetizing dishes. Italian . . . Maggie’s favorite. A dish of mozzarella balls mixed with basil vinaigrette dressing, and another that held fat, juicy olives. There was also a platter of crostini—crusty bread slices topped with chopped tomato, herbs, bits of red onion, and grated cheese. They looked yummy and smelled as if they’d just come from the oven.

  Maggie leaned forward and filled her small plate. “Sorry I’m late. I tried to rush the class along, but they all had their little knitting dramas tonight, if you know what I mean.”

  “Don’t think, just knit. That’s what you used to tell us,” Lucy reminded her.

  Lucy, Suzanne, and Dana had met in a class at Maggie’s shop years ago, though it was hard to believe that now. It felt as if they’d all known one another forever.

  “Did I say that? How wise of me.” Maggie savored a bite of the fresh mozzarella.

  “Yes, you did. I still say that to myself when I’m in a jam,” Suzanne admitted. “Sometimes, I’m not even knitting.”

  “Well, that’s what I’ll have to tell this group. They’re all too . . . left-brained or something. They have too many questions.”

  Dana had stepped into the kitchen to get more wine, but now she took her place on the couch next to Lucy. “Speaking of knitters and questions, I want to hear more about Janine Ridley. What’s she like? How did you know it was her? How long is she staying in town? You hardly said anything in the e-mail.”

  “Let’s see, what didn’t I tell you?” Maggie paused and thought about it a moment. “She came in the shop at the end of the day. Something about her looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure it out. Then she told me that she was visiting from out of town because her father had just died. She asked me if I’d known him. I told her I hadn’t, but that I did know the Kruegers.”

  “What did she say to that?” Lucy asked curiously.

  “She knows that the police questioned him and I got the impression that either the police have given her the impression that they strongly suspect Ben, or she hopes that her father’s killer can be found that easily. She seems quite even-tempered and calm. But she said she was very angry at the way her father died. And she’s determined to stay in town until the police find the person who did it.”

  “That might take a long time,” Dana said knowingly.

  “I know. But it wasn’t the sort of thing you can say to the child of a man who’s just been murdered.”

  “Of course not,” Dana agreed. “How long did you talk to her?”

  “We spoke for a while. She’s a very thoughtful and reasonable young woman. Pretty much the opposite of her father. At least, the way we’ve heard him described.”

  “Maybe the gene for being a nutty, paranoid recluse skips a generation,” Lucy offered.

  “Possibly. Though she didn’t see her father in the same extreme light. She wasn’t blind to his eccentricities, either.” Maggie paused and took a bite of the crostini. “I think she might be a little lonely and just needed to chat with someone. She’s dealing with a lot. Not just coming across the country to bury a parent who she hardly knew but one who has been murdered,” Maggie pointed out.

  “That’s very true, Maggie.” Dana nodded. “And you’re a good listener,” she added.

  “I try to be . . . when I’m not asking too many questions,” she admitted. “She didn’t seem to mind my curiosity. She was picking out some extra yarn in order to finish a sweater, and she took her time deciding. She was very straightforward. Told me the whole family history. Seems her parents divorced before her first birthday and her mother took her to the West Coast. She didn’t meet her father until she was in high school.”

  “How awful. That’s not right. No matter how crazy he was.” Suzanne shook her head.

  “Oh, she knew he was eccentric. She had no illusions about that. ‘An oddball,’ she called him,” Maggie added. “But she spoke very well of him. How he was devoted to protecting the land around here and how living out there had healed him after his military career. She understood and respected him. And loved him.”

  “That’s nice to hear. At least he had a child who loved him. I know he had his dark side. But he always sounded so lonely. I felt so sad for him,” Suzanne said.

  Dana nibbled on an olive. “People are complicated. No one is all good or all bad.”

  “Ellie and Ben might argue with you about that,” Maggie said as she helped herself to the last crostini. “Where is Ellie? I thought she said she was coming tonight.”

  Dana rose and picked up some empty dishes. “I thought so, too. I just texted her a few minutes ago, and she hasn’t answered. I hope nothing else awful is going on out there.”

  Dana cleared off the appetizers and brought in the main course, a huge bowl of pasta mixed with vegetables and topped with basil and fresh grated cheese. The garlicky smell alone made Maggie’s mouth water. She had thought she was full from the appetizers, but suddenly felt hungry again.

  “That looks so good, Dana. I’ve been running almost every morning. I guess I can go for it,” Lucy said.

  “It’s whole-wheat pasta. That helps, right? All the vegetables are fresh, from our ride out to the country Sunday.” Dana glanced over at Maggie.

  “I bought vegetables, too. But I haven’t cooked anything as delicious as this. Not yet, anyway,” Maggie added, tasting a forkful.

  The pasta primavera tasted as good as it looked, and they all enjoyed the dish in silence for a few moments, savoring bites between sips of red wine.

  The doorbell rang, and Dana rose to answer it, dabbing her mouth with a napkin on the way. “That must be Ellie. Just in time.”

  A few moments later Maggie heard Ellie’s voice in the foyer, confirming Dana’s guess. But something didn’t sound right. Their exchange, too distant to make out word for word, had a distinct note of urgency and emotion.

  Everyone noticed it and stopped eating. They sat up, listening.

  “Is that Ellie?” Lucy asked quietly. “Sounds like something’s wrong.”

  They all listened a moment or two more.

  “She’s crying,” Suzanne whispered. “That can’t be good.”

  Maggie agreed but didn’t have to say it out loud. It didn’t bode well at all.

  Chapter Eight

  Everything is getting so complicated. I don’t know what we did wrong. Ben found Ridley’s body in the field. Is that a crime? Why can’t the police start looking for the person who actually did this and leave us alone?”

  Ellie sat beside Dana, sipping a glass of wine. Dana had served her some pasta, but she didn’t seem to notice it. She was crying, and it was hard to understand every word. But Maggie didn’t have the heart to interrupt and ask questions.

  “Start from the beginning, Ellie.” Dana’s tone was calm and comforting. “The police were in touch since we saw you Sunday, is that right?”

  Ellie nodded, her expression bleak. “On Monday, they called and asked Ben to come down to the station for more questions. We called the attorney Jack recommended,” she added, turning to Dana, “and he met us there. We told him the whole story, and he advised us to revise our statements—to tell Detective Walsh that Ben was not asleep the entire night,” she clarified. “Ben told them he never left the house, and I totally believe him.”

  “How did Detective Walsh react?” Maggie asked.

  “He acted as if he
suspected we’d been hiding something all along. It made us feel very guilty . . . and then I had to stop myself and think, What are we feeling so guilty about? We didn’t do anything wrong. Once you get involved with the police, they can twist around everything you say. You get confused. You start to question your own memories of what happened.”

  Maggie knew that was true. That type of interrogation was so stressful, and Ellie did look as if the stress of this whole situation was getting to her. She looked tired and overwhelmed. Her appearance was not nearly as polished and put-together as usual, either.

  She and Ben had been dealing with a lot these last few days—actually, ever since they’d moved onto the farm. Nothing had gone smoothly for them. That didn’t seem fair, either.

  “I’m sure the police were not happy to hear you lied on the statements. But coming forward about that was the right thing to do.” Dana’s tone was encouraging. “The activity on the computer will show that he was in the house during the time frame of the murder. That will be that. He’ll alibi out.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. And neither is Ben,” Ellie said bleakly. “We had to hand over our computer and give the police access to our phone records and all that . . . but our attorney seems concerned.”

  Ellie started crying again. She dabbed her eyes with a napkin. “Ben says it won’t prove anything. So what if they see e-mails or visits to our website? That could have been me, or anyone, on the computer. It’s not like he had a teleconference for hours in the middle of the night. That would be the only way to really prove he was in the house all that time.”

  “You have a good point,” Dana agreed. “But it shows something. Even though it’s not airtight. What about the security cameras? Were the cameras on that night?”

  Ellie nodded. “They were on. The police took the CDs with the video from that night right away. Ben and I looked at the backup files, but we didn’t see anything unusual.”

  Ellie sat back and sighed. “Why do we have to prove anything? What happened to innocent until proven guilty? Why do we need to go to all this trouble? It’s an invasion of our privacy. Ben didn’t do anything. He said this would never happen in the city, and I think he’s right. He thinks the police out here are just country bumpkins who can’t get out of their own way long enough to figure out who really did this. So they’re fixating on him.”