Page 17 of Death By Llama (Friendship Harbor Mysteries #7)

ELEVEN

Who would be wandering around Jack’s barn? And why?

I strode across the lawn, ready to confront anyone who would even think of messing with my much-loved llama.

Okay, possibly only much-loved by me—the rest of town might be on the fence.

I wasn’t sure if the gossip mill was still talking about the fact that Jack had been found holding Santa’s hat.

Which I guess was better than holding the bag—Santa’s bag. Yeah, no, not really.

As I reached the gate, I saw that it was closed and latched. That was a good sign. Maybe whoever I saw was just cutting through my backyard. It did happen occasionally. Sometimes kids—or even my neighbor—would use my yard as a shortcut.

Still, I needed to check on Jack. He’d been out for his morning graze, but I had put him back in his stall while my mom and I were in Bar Harbor, much to his chagrin. He loved his free-range time and his favorite snack of dandelions were in full bloom.

I approached the small barn and saw that one of the heavy double doors stood cracked open.

I knew I had made sure it was securely shut when I left.

Carefully, I crept, listening for anyone inside.

I couldn’t hear anything other than the leaves rustling in the trees, birds chirping, and the occasional car passing from the road in front of the pub.

Cautiously, I inched the door open, making sure the old hinges didn’t squeak. When the door was ajar just enough, I squeezed inside. I paused, listening.

There wasn’t any noise except for the rhythmic chomping of Jack as he grazed on his hay.

From where I stood, I could see Jack’s woolly back.

Then, a moment later, his head poked up.

But rather than acknowledge me as he normally would, his eyes drifted into sleepy slits, and he rumbled his llama purr of contentment.

I heard a watery snuffling sound. Then another. I frowned. That didn’t sound like the noise of someone coming to torment my llama. I crept further into the barn and saw a head resting on Jack’s side. The person’s small hand scratched his neck just below his long ears.

Well, that explained his happiness.

After a moment, I recognized who it was.

“Hannah?” I said.

I hadn’t expected the teenager to be back to look after Jack for another week. She normally came by a few times a week to help me out, but she was supposed to be gone to summer camp up in northern Maine.

The girl lifted her head, startled. And now I knew that the sound had been. She was crying.

Embarrassedly, she swiped at her wet cheeks.

“Hannah, are you alright?” I opened the stall door to join her. “Did something happen at the summer camp?”

She shook her head, then nodded. “Well, we had to leave early because all the kids came down with a stomach flu, but I wasn’t upset about that. All the puking was really disgusting.”

I made a face that showed I was totally onboard with that assessment. “So, you did like working at the summer camp?”

She shrugged. “It was okay. The cabins were old and kind of creepy, and there were tons of mosquitoes, and the food was pretty bad. I’m glad to be back in my own bed, and Mom’s ordering pizza for dinner, so that’s all good.”

I studied her. “That all does sound pretty good. So, if you’re glad to be home, why are you crying?”

She dropped her head against Jack’s side again, scratching his favorite spot on his neck.

“As soon as I got home today, I went to see some of my friends. A couple of them told me about the festival at the inn, and they said Jack killed Santa Claus.”

I sighed. “Let me guess—Space Buns and Mom Jeans?”

She lifted her head from Jack, looking at me, puzzled. “Who?”

“No one. I’m just being a smart aleck,” I said, waving the comment away. I didn’t want to say anything negative about girls who were probably her friends, although I could argue they were not great friends since she was here crying.

“There was an accident,” I explained to her, “but Jack wasn’t involved. Are you sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”

Her reaction seemed very extreme for what the girls had told her. She was too old to believe in Santa, although anyone dying was certainly traumatic. And while she adored Jack—clearly—crying over what they were saying didn’t seem like Hannah.

She shrugged, then turned to scratch Jack’s snout. After a moment, she said without looking at me, “I didn’t hate everything about camp.”

“Really? What did you like?”

She risked a glance at me, and I raised a curious eyebrow.

“I mean, there was this one boy there, and he was pretty fun.”

“And cute,” I prompted.

She nodded, blushing a little bit.

“Does he live nearby?”

She shook her head, and tears threatened to tumble down her cheeks again. “No, he lives in Skowhegan.”

“Is that far away?” I still didn’t know many of the towns in Maine or where they were located.

“Like almost two hours.” The way she said it, this boy might as well live on the moon. And I suppose for kids who were fifteen and didn’t drive yet, it pretty much was.

“Did you guys exchange numbers?”

She nodded and smiled a little wistfully. “Yeah. We’ve been texting, but I just don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.”

I gave her a reassuring smile. “I bet you’ll see him again.”

She sighed. “I hope so. He was really…” She paused, her expression growing dreamy. “He was really fun.”

“What was his name?”

“Sam.”

“Sam’s a good name.”

She nodded.

I walked over to her and gave a quick hug. “Would you mind hanging out with Jack for a little while so he can get some exercise and eat some dandelions?”

She smiled fondly at the giant llama next to her. “You must be happy that the dandelions are everywhere,” she cooed to him.

“I know he’s happy you’re back.”

That made her laugh, and she hugged Jack around the neck. “I did miss him. And pizza.”

Jack rumbled softly deep in his chest. A sure sign of happiness.

“If you could just let him out for a while and then put him back in his stall when you leave, I have to go back to the inn.”

“To see Cameron?” she asked, her eyes brightening.

I knew at her age, I was always fantasizing what it would be like to have a real boyfriend. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that sometimes it wasn’t always that thrilling.

“Yes, to see Cameron and because my parents are in town. They’re staying at the inn as well.”

“Really? They aren’t staying with you?”

I gave her a “what can you do” look. “You know my mom. She prefers the inn.”

Hannah didn’t really know my mom. She only knew what she had picked up on from when I talked about her, but she nodded as if she understood.

“Thank you for your help,” I said. “And enjoy that pizza.”

As I left the barn, she already had her phone in hand and her arm outstretched, trying to find the perfect pose for a selfie. I had no doubt Sam would be receiving a photo of Hannah and a llama very soon.

I headed across the lawn toward the pub. When I stepped into the kitchen, I saw that Jimmy manned his usual place at the grill. He only bobbed his head when he saw me, so things seemed pretty much back to normal.

In the pub, the supper crowd had begun to arrive. I assumed that many of the unfamiliar faces were tourists, but I also saw a few regulars, including George Sprague perched at his usual spot at the end of the bar.

“I’m glad to see you brought back my stool,” I said to him as I walked down the length of the bar.

“Well, where else would I bring it? I go to work, home or here. And work won’t let me drink. I don’t want to drink at home, so that leaves here.” He waved his hands out to his sides.

He wasn’t totally joking about his life.

According to both Dave and Brandy, he did actually have a wife and kids, though they seemed to be mythical creatures.

Sometimes I wondered if anybody had actually seen this family of his.

But every day after work, he came here before going home, and he did talk about his wife, if not necessarily with any affection.

I paused next to his stool, then took a seat beside him.

“Hey. Do you know Peanut’s brother, Cheddar?” I couldn’t really believe I was saying that sentence.

“Of course I do.” He took a sip of his beer. “Why do you ask?”

“How did Peanut and Cheddar get along?”

“They hated each other,” George said matter-of-factly. “Everyone knows that.”

“Not everyone. I didn’t even know that our town had people named Peanut and Cheddar until the past two days. Do you think Cheddar could’ve, you know, pushed Peanut over the cliff?”

George thought about that for a moment. Then he nodded. “Yeah. I think he probably could’ve done it. Except… Cheddar wasn’t at the festival.”

“How do you know that?”

“He’s a lobster fisherman. I know for a fact he was out on his boat yesterday.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I went down to the docks after the festival to get some lobster for my family, and he was down there on his boat with a huge haul of fresh lobster. He had to have been pulling traps all day for that many of those suckers.”

“Are you sure they were fresh? Maybe he had some in coolers.”

George leaned away from me, looking indignant. “Are you questioning a Mainer’s knowledge on how fresh a lobster is?”

I feigned an apologetic look. “No. No. Of course not. Forgive me. But seriously, did you say anything to him about his brother’s death?”

George shook his head. “Weren’t my place.”

“You didn’t think he would want to know?”

“I figured he’d rather have my cold hard cash more than any news I had.”

I stared at George for a second, not quite sure how to react. But from the sounds of the relationship the two brothers had, that was probably the truth.

“Thanks, George.” I waved to Brandy. “Give our friend a beer on the house.”

“Thanks, Sophie,” George grinned. “I’ll take a free beer for town dirt any time.”

Good to know.

As I drove, I considered what I had learned.

It didn’t seem like a possibility that Cheddar had any involvement in his brother’s death, although it seemed that was just because he hadn’t had the opportunity.

Jimmy and George seemed to think he was capable of it, but he did have an alibi.

I had no way of tying anything with Peanut’s death to Nick either.

So, I had to accept that he was just an unlikable guy, but probably not involved in Peanut’s death.

Who apparently was also an unlikable guy.

That bothered me because I took pride in the accuracy of my intuition. But I had to admit it seemed to be off this time. I didn’t think there was any explanation other than Peanut had an unfortunate accident. It sounded like his years of drinking had finally caught up to him.

It irked me that people were saying Jack was a killer, but even that would eventually blow over. So, it was time to just visit with my parents, and apparently—according to my mother—work on being nicer to Cameron, and just let this mystery go.

As I reached the road that led up to the inn, I saw flashing lights. I pulled into the parking lot and saw an ambulance and several police cars.

So much for letting the mystery go. Now I might have a new one on my hands. Hopefully not one that involved any of the people that I loved.

I parked and jumped out of my car, scanning the faces scattered around the lawn, watching the emergency crew. I spotted Oliver and Henry standing with my parents. They all looked to be in varying degrees of shock and dismay, but unharmed.

Oliver glanced around and spotted me. He hurried across the lawn in my direction.

“What’s going on?” I asked, practically running to meet him.

“I think you can probably check Nick off your list of suspects,” Oliver said.

I frowned, glancing toward where Deputy Young stood at the edge of the cliff near the rock wall in exactly the same place Peanut had fallen just the day before.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Oliver glanced in that direction too. “Nick is dead.”