The bell above the bakery door jingled as a hurried voice mumbled, “Have we the lobster rolls ready, Sarah?” Inside, a figure brushed past the steamy cabaret of fresh bread and pastries, his eyes scanning the counter before meeting Sarah's gaze. Their unspoken conversation was quiet, tension lacing every synapse. "Of course, they're on ice, waiting for you," came the calm reply, a smile hidden just beneath the surface. The lobster rolls, a ruse? He nodded subtly, pulling out a wallet from his pocketed clothing. "Here. Remember my birthday is coming up... figuratively, of course," he teased, an urgency edging his voice. Sarah leaned in closer, her curiosity piqued as she accepted the handful of bills. "Happy—" “Yes, you guessed it. Tommy’s up to it again," he finished with a smirk, aware his rustic charm was outplayed by subtle threats. The scent of cinnamon and dough masked the scent of danger as Sarah turned to leave. “Yes, Detective. Can I interest you in anything else?” As the lobster rolls continued to chill behind her, Sarah’s mind worked overtime, tracing the meeting's precursors back to weeks ago, each pastry purchase a piece of breadcrumb to the looming cliffhanger.