The bell above the door chimed, and a warm waft of cinnamon and fresh bread filled the small bakery. Flour dusted the worn wooden counter, and trays of golden pastries lined the glass display case. "I can't believe someone would do such a thing." "Murder isn't exactly a common occurrence in Maple Grove." "But right before the annual baking competition? It seems impossible." "The timing is suspicious, I'll give you that. Gerald was the reigning champion three years running." "And now he's dead, with his prized recipe book missing." A pause. The soft clink of a porcelain mug against a saucer. "You think it's connected, don't you?" "Wouldn't you? A cutthroat competition, decades-old rivalries, and now a dead baker with a valuable cookbook vanished." "You sound like you're already investigating." A soft chuckle. "Someone has to. The sheriff isn't exactly known for his investigative skills." "Just be careful. These baking circles can be more dangerous than they look." "Trust me, I know exactly what I'm doing." Another pastry was placed on a plate, the knife scraping against the ceramic with a sharp, decisive sound.