Bea Abbot's domestic agency does not, repeat not, investigate murder . . . that is, until she finds herself in the company of a dead man dressed as a pantomime dame. It looks like suicide, but why don't his red-spangled shoes fit? Why is the mans daughter so keen to hustle his mortal remains away without publicity? Then again, which of the women around him--two surviving wives and a daughter--really cared about him, rather than his money?

"Wealthy Marcia Tredgold and her daughter, Charlotte, want Bea Abbot to find them replacements for staff who have left under a cloud. Bea discovers that all those dismissed were close to Marcia Tredgold, and senses that something is not right. Were they framed, and if so by whom - and why? Even more curiously, when Marcia Tredgold gets Bea alone, she asks her to find out who killed her two cats. Bea resists becoming involved in the strange goings-on...