The bell jingled softly as the door to the bakery swung open. Floral scent wafted through the air mingling with sugar and butter. It's a queer misalignment, don't you think? The doughnut shop closing up shop and old Johnson going missing. I still can't believe she did it. Poor Betty, always gave free doughnuts on Tuesdays. Twasn't Betty. Mark my words, that girl can't hurt a dust bunny. Then who? I dunno. Maybe old Johnson wasn't as friendly as he seemed. Folks around here don't take kindly to strangers, that's for sure. That's true. This town respects tradition. Look at these locals...All the Grandma Agnes pastries sold. The doughnut shop didn't stand a chance. That's the way, stick to what works. Play that new-fangled modern doughnut shop nonsense with the town and folks tend to get ornery. Bombs away! The orchid croissants are to die for! Mmm...tart, saccharine, and just a whiff of blossoms. Too divine. I almost forget why we're here. Oh wait, I remember now. *sniffles* Poor dear...somebody's got a greedy appetite for mystery. C'mere, ol' chum. That'll be $15. Now lock up that door and let's pay our respects...or try to nudge the sheriff into arresting someone. But first, we need to get Betty a good lawyer.