Flour dusted every surface of the Sweet Treat Bakery, and the aroma of freshly baked croissants wafted through the air. Behind the counter, a warm conversation flowed as freely as the coffee. "I still can't believe it's been a week since the festival. Time flies when you're having fun... or in our case, dealing with murder." "Ugh, don't remind me. I'm still finding bits of confetti in the display cases. And to think, poor Mrs. Jenkins was so looking forward to judging that pie-eating contest." "Speaking of which, have you heard the latest on the investigation? I heard the police are stumped." "Stumped? That's an understatement. I heard they're re-interviewing everyone who was at the festival. Again. I swear, if I have to tell them one more time what I was doing at 3 PM, I'll lose my mind." "Well, at least your alibi is solid. I, on the other hand, was conveniently alone in the back, 'restocking shelves' during the time of the murder. I'm starting to think I should've just claimed I was in the bathroom the whole time."