"Did you bake those scones yourself, Gertie?" A woman's curious voice quivered as she eyed a tray of freshly baked goods behind the counter. "Yes, Marge, I did." Gertie took a step from behind her flour-dusted workspace, her smile revealing the missing tooth in her mouth's left corner. "Just the way you like 'em, nice and crumbly." "Mm, always a delight. From what I heard, you were up all night." Marge wiped her chin with a paper napkin. "Couldn't sleep. The suspect, I'm telling you," Gertie confided, her brow furrowing. "I saw him skulking around the school at two in the morning." "Do you think he's tied to that missing box of chocolates from Pearl's?" Marge's eyes widened at the notion. "I ain't saying for sure, but the timing's fishy." Gertie folded her arms over her apron. "And his story about being out searching for moonshells... that's a tale that's as thin as these scones." "Well, Oscar said it's probably just a misunderstanding." Marge sipped her coffee. "He's been off duty since his heart scare, so he doesn't have the authority to investigate." "True, but I'm going to keep my eye on him, and not just because his taste in fishing lures is questionable. What's a man doing scouring the beach for shells when the tide is out?" Marge wrinkled her nose. "Hmph, I'll keep my ears open. You and your probing ways have solved three cases in the past year. Guess it's cat and mouse until the real culprit pops out of the bag." Gertie laughed heartily. "Just like one of these fruit tarts. Pop and burst, you'll see." She grabbed a napkin and dabbed the counter, her eyes glinting at the mystery ahead.