“This place doesn’t have the appearance of a cafe,” said Mr. Parker. “Are you sure you have the correct address, Penny?”
“Why, yes, I know we came here last night. But the sign has been removed.”
Descending the stone steps, Penny pressed her face against the uncovered windows. Only a large, empty room confronted her astonished gaze. All of the tables and chairs had been removed, even the palm trees and decorations.
“It’s deserted, Dad!” she exclaimed.
Mr. Parker came down the steps to peer through a window. Bits of colored paper and menu cards still littered the floor. Testing the door, he found it locked.
“This certainly is strange,” he remarked thoughtfully. “Let’s inquire next door.”
Penny and her father chose to enter a bakery which adjoined the building. A stout woman in a white apron, who was arranging frosted cakes in a showcase, favored them with a professional smile.
“Good morning,” Mr. Parker greeted her, removing his hat. “Can you tell me what has become of the cafe next door?”
“Are you from the police?” the woman asked quickly.
“No, I’m connected with the Star.”