The Hen of the Baskervilles(84)

“Both of you?”

“From what I’ve seen, the judges really go for it when the llama and his handler have coordinated costumes,” Rob said.

Michael held up what appeared to be a jumpsuit made of the same garish pink polyester and feathers—presumably Rob’s costume. His mouth was twitching as if he were having a hard time not bursting out laughing.

“Awesome.” I resorted to Rob’s favorite word. I probably giggled a little as I said it.

“It’s not awesome yet,” Rob said. “It’s a mess. And we only have forty-five minutes till show time”

“Let me try.”

It took nearly all of the forty-five minutes, but Michael and I got both Groucho and Rob into their flamingo suits. Then we glued on all the feathers that had come off in the struggle. Groucho made a rather odd-shaped four-legged flamingo, so I improvised a second flamingo head out of surplus polyester and feathers, and attached it to the middle of his back. It bobbed and nodded as he walked, an effect I hoped the judges would find as comical as Michael and I did.

“Cool!” Rob said. “Now there are three of us!”

I’d have felt completely ridiculous doing all of this if not for the fact that throughout the barn, other llama and alpaca owners were stuffing their darlings into equally ridiculous costumes.

When we finally had the flamingos ready, Michael and I collected the boys from the nearby pen where they’d been napping, and we all set off for the show ring.

There were more llamas competing in the costume contest than there had been in the obedience trials. Did people really enjoy dressing up their llamas—and themselves? Or was it merely easier than obedience training?

There were several llamas dressed in brightly colored serapes and sombreros, to pay homage to their South American roots. One golden-brown one was rigged out as a bumblebee, completed with black stripes on his body and huge gossamer wings. One exhibitor dressed each of his four llamas and one alpaca in the uniform of a different branch of the armed forces. I hoped no one in the audience took offense at the fact that he chose the diminutive alpaca to wear the Marine dress blues—although from what I could see, the alpaca was certainly the feistiest of the five. And there were the bride and groom llamas. A dragon llama being led by a helmeted Viking. A llama dressed as Santa, pulling a small, present-filled sleigh. A headless horseman llama. A QE2 llama led by his tugboat owner. A llama dressed in a black-and-white–striped prison suit, dragging a Styrofoam ball and chain behind him. A llama dressed as a bunch of grapes, featuring dozens of purple balloons.

Michael and the boys and I cheered Rob on to a third-place ribbon, behind the bumblebee and the bunch of grapes. I decided not to depress Rob by saying that they probably wouldn’t have placed at all without the third head bobbing maniacally on Groucho’s back.

“Silly judges,” Josh said, when we met Rob outside the ring. “Groucho is the best llama.”

“Yeah, but your uncle Rob isn’t the best costume designer,” Rob said. “Meg, you think next time you could help me plan it? Your head totally won us the yellow. Maybe if we’d enlisted you earlier, we’d have scored a first.”

“I have some ideas,” I said. “Let’s talk after the fair is over.”

“Awesome!” Rob turned to the boys. “Come on, junior llama wranglers. Let’s go back to the barn and celebrate. But you’ve got to help me hold on to Groucho.”

He waved and strolled off with both boys clinging fiercely to the lead rope.

“Do you really have time to take up llama costuming?” Michael asked.

“No, but if I play my cards right, I can get Mother interested in it,” I said. “And if she balks, I can probably enlist Rose Noire.”

“Good plan,” he said. “Incidentally, Rob agreed to babysit for a few hours if I helped him with Groucho’s costume, so now we have some time off. Want to go someplace nice for dinner?”

I didn’t even have to think about it.

“No,” I said, with a sigh. “We’d have to clean up and drive somewhere and mind our manners while we wait for our food. I don’t have the energy for that. I just want to go over to the Midway and have an Italian sausage topped with a mountain of onions and green peppers and then skulk around for a while to see if I can catch any of the Clay County deputies in the act of extorting from the Midway vendors.”

Michael blinked.

“Okay,” he said. “I like those Italian sausages, too, and I have to admit it will be easier. But do you seriously suspect the Clay County deputies of committing extortion, or have they just been getting on your nerves lately?”