Chapter One

Instructions for Ballet Performance Friday, June 14, Tinker's Cove Academy of the Dance (otherwise known as the pink sheet)

Where's Caro? That's what Caro's oldest and dearest friend, Julia Ward Howe Tilley, was asking herself later that morning. She turned off the flame under the shrieking kettle and peered out the kitchen window, looking for Caro's little blue Honda. Caro stopped by every morning after exercising George to share a cup of tea and a chat.

Perhaps something was wrong, she fretted. The car might have a dead battery, or Caro might have a touch of the flu. In either case, however, she would have expected her to call.

Miss Tilley (only her very closest friends dared to call her Julia) reached for the phone and dialed Caro's number. Although she let the phone ring ten times, and then hung up and dialed again, letting if ring ten more times, there was no answer.

Where was Miss Hutton? Gerald Asquith, president of Winchester College, pressed the button on his intercom and asked his secretary if there had been any message from her.

"No, sir, none at all," she answered.

"Well, that's rather unusual," said Asquith. "Isn't she scheduled for a two o'clock meeting?"

"Yes, she is," agreed the secretary. "Do you want me to call her?"

"No, that's all right," he said. The purpose of the meeting was to discuss a rather large bequest Miss Hutton was planning to make to the college, and Asquith didn't want to appear too eager. On the other hand, it was very unlike Miss Hutton to be late.

Maybe she'd had trouble with her car, maybe she'd had a flat tire en route. That was the most likely explanation, he decided, making a note to call her the next day. That would send just the right message; he would appear concerned but not anxious.

Kitty Slack, Caro's neighbor, was surprised on Tuesday morning when George appeared at her kitchen door looking for a breakfast handout.

"Go home," she told him.

The dog cocked his head and scratched the screen door, adding a whine for emphasis. But when Kitty opened the door to let him in, he refused to enter. Instead, he turned right around and headed home.

Kitty followed him across the driveway that separated the two properties and knocked at Caro's kitchen door. The door was unlocked, so she went in, calling her neighbor's name. There was no answer as she went from room to room. She even checked the cellar and garage.

Everything was just as it ought to be. The car was in the garage, the clean dishes stood in the dish drainer, the towels were neatly folded in the bathroom. It seemed that Caro must have stepped out just for a minute. But ff that was the case, why was George whining so?

Kitty picked up the phone and rang the police station.

"Tinker's Cove Police," recited the bored young dispatcher. When she took the job she thought it would be exciting, but she soon discovered nothing much ever happened in Tinker's Cove.

"This is Mrs. Slack," said the old woman, hesitating. "I don't really know if this is a matter for the police."

"Why don't you talk to Officer Culpepper?" suggested the dispatcher, transferring the call. Barney Culpepper was good with old ladies and children.

"Well, good morning, Mrs. Slack," said Culpepper, his voice booming through the telephone line. "What can I do for you?"

"I don't know if I should be bothering you with this, but I do think something is wrong."

"It's no bother. What's the problem?"

"I'm afraid something has happened to Caroline Hutton. Her dog George came over to my house a little bit ago, and I can't find any sign of her. Something must have happened to her. She wouldn't go off and leave George, would she?"

"Are you at her place?"

"Oh, yes."

"Stay there and I'll be right over to take a look around."

"Well, all right," she agreed, "But I really ought to go home. Morrill will be wanting his dinner."

"I'll be there in two shakes of a lamb's tail, Mrs. Slack."

Kitty replaced the receiver and stood awkwardly in the kitchen. She didn't know what to do with herself in another woman's house, so she finally went over to the window to watch for Officer Culpepper.

When the phone rang, a few minutes later, she picked up the receiver.

"Hello," she said stiffly, uncomfortable about answering someone else's phone.

"Miss Hutton? Gerald Asquith here."

"I'm not Miss Hutton. I'm her neighbor, Kitty Slack."

"Oh. Can you put her on?"

"I'm sorry, but she's not here."

"Where is she? She missed an important meeting yesterday."

"I don't know where she is, but I think there's someone you ought to speak to," said Kitty, looking up as

Culpepper arrived and handing him the receiver.

Culpepper had just finished talking with Asquith and was folding his notebook shut when Tatiana O'Brien appeared at the kitchen door.

“What's the matter?" she demanded, shocked at finding a police officer in Caro's kitchen. "Where's Caro?"

"Dunno yet," Culpepper told her. "All we know right now is that she's not here."

"Not here? That's ridiculous." The young woman tossed her glossy long black hair back over her shoulder in a graceful gesture. "I'm supposed to have lunch with her today."

"Maybe you'd better tell me all about it," said Culpepper, opening his notebook to a flesh page.

"There's not much to tell. We were going to discuss the show. It's a week from Friday, you know, and there are only a few rehearsals left. I called to ask her opinion on a few things, and she invited me to lunch."

"You're sure she invited you for today?"

"Absolutely." Tatiana's bright blue eyes flashed. She was not used to being doubted.

Culpepper tapped his notebook against the back of his hand and considered the situation. He knew Tafiana taught ballet to most of the little girls in town, and her show took place every year just as predictably as the Fourth of July parade.

"I can't imagine what's happened," said Kitty. "I think poor George is hungry."

All three looked at George, who was sniffing at his empty food dish. He gave a hopeful wag of his tail and then collapsed on the floor, putting his chin down between his paws.

"I better inform the chief," said Culpepper, reaching for the phone.