Leaving their mother to go through the Christmas decorations, Frank and Joe went to their father's ground-floor study. Fenton was seated behind his desk, shaking his head and smiling. When Joe walked in, he chuckled. "Do you really have some classic ones?"

"I'm pretty sure I do. I don't know. They're all classic in my book."

Frank grunted. "Whatever. Dad, is something wrong?"

Fenton sobered slightly. "In a way, this has to do with your new friends."

Joe looked at Frank. "New friends? We have new friends?"

Frank stared at his brother. "Merlyn Slade. Ring a bell?"

"Oh. But she's not really a friend. I mean, there's Vanessa and--" Joe let his voice trail off. "Never mind. Friends--new--" He narrowed his eyes. "Trouble?"

Fenton reached for a manila folder. "Archimedes Slade called here tonight. There seems to be a problem in his family."

"A problem?" asked Joe. "You're kidding, right. Slade thinks their mummy is real."

Frank bit back a grin. "And the fairy. Don't forget the fairy."

"You're smirking again, aren't you."

"Boys, it seems that a fellow writer was coming for a visit. That person never arrived here and Slade is rather concerned."

Frank turned serious. "Could have been a delayed flight or something."

"According to Slade, she drove down from Massachusetts. He said he called the police chief there and the man said she'd left on schedule. But she never made it here."

Joe frowned. "That does sound bad. Does he know what route she was taking?"

"Actually, he did. He said she was driving I-195 to Providence, Rhode Island, then I-95 to New London, Connecticut, then taking the ferry south."

Frank arched an eyebrow. "If he knows the car and license plate, it should be easy to find her."

"Well, he knows her car, not the plate. He said it's a 1969 Aston-Martin DB6, cherry red."

Joe's eyes widened in shock and he said, "Whoa. That is one awesome car. How old is she?" he added, not really thinking.

Frank grinned. "What about Vanessa?" His brother just glared at him.

"She's in her twenties, Joe," answered his father. "Slade gave me a description of her as well--dark auburn hair, worn long, gold-brown eyes, petite. He said she has an annoying tendency to find trouble, so he's worried."

Frank smirked. "Sounds like Joe."

Joe just gave him another glare.

Fenton didn't quite sigh. "Boys, behave. After I talked with Slade, I called both Rhode Island state police and Connecticut's. There's no report of an Aston-Martin with car trouble on the interstates."

"Maybe she stopped off somewhere," suggested Frank.

"Slade is adamant she would have called." Fenton sighed. "I'm going to New London, see if I can pick up her trail. Since she was coming here, I want you two to keep a sharp eye out. She may have been carjacked."

Joe groaned. "That would be beyond horrible. Such an amazing car."

Frank reached out and snapped his fingers directly in front of Joe's face. "Earth to Joe. I'd think the person driving said car would be more important."

"Well, yeah, of course. Duh. But it's a fine car."

Fenton found it hard not to laugh. He picked up the manila folder and handed it to Frank. "What I just told you is in there plus a few other less crucial details. If you find her, get her to Slade so he'll calm down, okay."

"What if she doesn't want to," said Frank after a moment's silence. "What if she planned this little trip to disappear?"

Joe looked at his brother. "That's way out in left field for you, bro. What happened to 'just the facts, ma'am'?"

Frank shook his head. "We'll get on it first thing tomorrow."

Joe groaned. "Haven't we had enough excitement for awhile?"

Frank stood up and pulled his brother to his feet. "I thought you lived for excitement, the danger, the adventure."     

Joe rolled his eyes. "I'm going to read."

Frank followed him out of their father's office. "Don't strain yourself."

"Ha, ha," muttered Joe as he headed upstairs.

                                         ***

 "Where's that folder Dad gave you?"

Frank looked up from his computer. He was clad in pajamas now and the only light in the room was coming from the computer monitor. "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same question. It's after midnight."

"I asked first."

"I was reading the comics. Where's the folder?"

"Right here. Her name is Cassandra MacFairlaigne, she's twenty-six years old. I found a link at an author's website. She writes a fantasy series."

"Whoop-de-doo. I just want to see if there's a picture of the car." Joe started to open the manila folder.

Frank slapped his hand over his brother's keeping the folder closed. "Joe, this is serious. She could have been kidnapped or something."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Who kidnaps some dorky fantasy writer?"

"There's a photo on the website."  Frank moved his mouse over the link and tapped the left button. The screen went white, then filled with the digital version of a snap shot. The woman's auburn hair was piled high on her head and she was wearing a slinky long-sleeved black dress that draped down to her ankles.

Joe let out a low whistle, car temporarily forgotten. "Whoa."

"Remember Vanessa. Down, boy."

"Shut up. She's not dorky, I'll say that much."

Frank groaned. "Joe, pay attention. When I typed her name in the search engine, the author's website with links wasn't the only thing that came up."

Joe yawned. "Could you tell me in the morning?"

"Joe," snapped Frank. "Get serious."

"Okay, fine. What else came up?"

"A police file."

"Whoa. How? How'd you end up with a police file? Isn't that on a secure, hack-free site?"

Frank shrugged. "It was cached in her profile page on the author's website for some reason. Seems she's tangled with the law a few times."

"Maybe she was trying to disappear."

"No. Not that kind of tangled." Frank took a deep breath. "Tangled, as in getting in the way of an official police investigation numerous times. As in being shot at, at least once."

Joe stared at his brother. "You're kidding, right?" He gestured to the screen where the picture was. "Miss Fantasy Queen there?"

"What is Dad always telling us? Never jump to conclusions and never judge a book by its cover."

"Okay, okay. She just looks too prissy to get involved with police. I mean look at her. She looks like high society."

Frank took another look at the snapshot. Joe was right. She did look high society. He frowned. "I wonder--"

"Maybe she does it because she's bored to tears because her parents are filthy rich and she's done everything else in the world there is to do."

Frank looked at his brother. "You sound cynical."

Joe shrugged and yawned again. "Whatever. G'night."

Frank watched his brother head back to his bedroom and sighed, knowing he needed to shut things down himself. Time enough for the fantasy author tomorrow.