The scent of freshly baked pastries wafted through the air as the brass bell above the bakery door chimed. A woman with fiery red hair and a flour-dusted apron looked up from behind the counter. "Ah, Martha! I was starting to worry you wouldn't make it." "Sorry, Betsy. The roads were a mess this morning," Martha replied, shaking off her wet umbrella and hanging it on the coat rack by the door. "Well, at least you made it before the rush. What can I get you?" "Just my usual, please. And maybe one of those almond croissants. They look delicious." Betsy smiled and began to prepare the order. As she worked, she asked, "Have you heard anything new about the break-in at the museum?" Martha frowned. "No, not really. The police are keeping a tight lip about it." "I just can't believe someone would steal the town's most prized possession like that." "I know. It's a real shame. And such a mystery, too. Who would have motive to do something like that?" The two women exchanged a knowing glance, the unspoken question hanging in the air. As Betsy handed Martha her coffee and pastry, she said, "Well, whoever it is, I hope they're caught soon." "Me too," Martha agreed, taking a sip of her coffee and savoring the warmth. "Me too."