The bell over the door tinkled, signaling a customer. "Just in time for the blueberry scones," a voice said from behind the counter, a hint of warmth laced with the scent of freshly baked goods. "I thought you might stop by." "I can never resist your scones," another voice responded, a gentle rustle of a paper bag betraying a purchase. "What's new in the oven?" "Well, besides the usual suspects, I've been experimenting with a gingerbread cookie recipe. Winter is coming, after all." There was a clinking of ceramic as a mug was placed on the counter. "Care for a tea to go with that?" "Mm, that sounds perfect. Earl Grey, if you have it." "Of course! I wouldn't dream of not stocking that for you. Now, if you're not in a hurry, I have a rather peculiar mystery for you to ponder." "Oh? And what's that?" "It's about old Mrs. Flannery. She's convinced that her cat, Whiskers, has been replaced by an impostor with an uncanny resemblance. Says the real Whiskers would never turn down his favorite tuna treat." "Serves her right for keeping such a stash. There's a lesson in there somewhere—the peril of favorite foods being too accessible." A laugh, hearty and warm, filled the space. "Indeed. I always knew cats had their secrets."