The bell above the door tinkled as morning sunlight streamed into Sweet Nothings Bakery. The aroma of fresh cinnamon rolls and coffee filled the warm air. "I'm telling you, there's something fishy about those lemon bars she brought to the church social." "Martha, you think everything is suspicious these days. Ever since you started reading those mystery novels..." "But three people got sick! And did you notice how she wouldn't eat one herself? Said she was watching her sugar intake, but I saw her demolish half a chocolate cake at the Hendersons' anniversary party last week." "Maybe she just doesn't like lemon bars." "Or maybe she knows exactly what's in them. And have you noticed how her antique shop suddenly has all these 'rare finds' right after Mrs. Wilson's house was burglarized?" "Keep your voice down! She's friends with my sister-in-law." "Well, your sister-in-law might want to be careful at the next potluck, that's all I'm saying." The espresso machine hissed loudly, momentarily drowning out the gossip as the morning regulars began filtering in, the bell announcing each new arrival with its cheerful ring.