The bell above the door jingled as it swung shut, announcing the entrance of a newcomer. A woman with a straw basket in hand scanned the familiar site of the small town bakery, seeking her friend. Sunlight drifted through the window, glinting off the glass cases displaying a medley of pastries. "Mrs. Hastings!" she finally exclaimed, spotting the older woman behind the counter, flour still dusting her apron. "I've heard terrible news, and I came straight here to find you." Mrs. Hastings' brow furrowed, wiping her hands on her apron before she activated the display to showcase an apple pie. "Oh?" was her questioning response. "Myrtle Mae, the owner of the General Store, has been found dead," the woman said gravely. Mrs. Hastings' piercing blue eyes widened and a sigh of distress escaped her. Placing a hand on the other woman's, she reassured, "Don't worry. We'll find out what happened, dearest Rosalie. I'll bake up a storm tonight while you finish gathering information." A determined spark ignited in Rosalie's eyes, "We'll get to the bottom of this, and nothing will stop us. Not even her delectable cherry turnovers." Mrs. Hastings chuckled and raised an eyebrow. "You're the spice that keeps our town together, Rosalie, no question about it." With a nod, Rosalie smiled and left, her straw basket swinging in her wake. Alone, Mrs. Hastings exhaled deeply, flipping a switch to dim the lights, knowing the night ahead would present a challenge. The cozy silence of the bakery murmured its support, encouraging her pursuits. All while, the lingering scent of fresh-baked bread wafted through the air, beckoning the next sleuths to find the answers they sought.