The bell above the door jingled as it swung open, letting in a gust of late autumn breeze that mingled with the scent of fresh cinnamon rolls and coffee. "So, what do you think about the old Jenkins case? Think it's really just an accident?" "One sugar, right?" The spoon clinked against the mug as cinnamon dust floated through the air. "I don't know. Something about it doesn't sit right. He was too careful, too precise for something like that to just happen." "Here’s your coffee. And yeah, the whole town's buzzing. They say he found something before he died, something big." "Big enough to get him killed, you mean?" The sound of steam frothing milk almost drowned out the veiled concern. "But who in Clemency Creek would do such a thing? It’s such a quiet place." "Quiet places hold the loudest secrets, don't you think?" Pastry crumbs fell onto the checkered tablecloth as a cookie broke in half. "Maybe that’s what he stumbled upon. We should look into it." "Us? Why not leave it to the police?" "Because everyone knows everyone here. And sometimes, that’s exactly why some things never come to light."