The Bell & Book Bakery smelled of cinnamon and vanilla, the morning sunlight streaming through gingham curtains. Mrs. Winters wiped flour-covered hands on her apron as Sheriff Davies entered, the bell above the door announcing his arrival. "Morning. Heard you had quite the excitement at the fundraiser last night." "If by 'excitement' you mean finding Councilman Franklin face-down in my prize-winning blackberry cobbler, then yes." "Any idea why he'd collapse at your dessert table of all places?" "I'm a baker, not a detective." The rolling pin moved rhythmically across the dough. "Though I did notice something odd about his coffee cup." "Odd how?" "Almond scent. Very distinct. He was allergic to nuts—made a point of telling everyone within earshot whenever he came in." "Yet he drank it anyway?" "People do foolish things when they're not paying attention." "Or when someone wants them not to pay attention." The rolling pin paused mid-stroke. "You think it was deliberate?" "I think Councilman Franklin had secrets. And secrets in Millfield have a way of rising to the surface... like good bread dough." "Careful, Sheriff. You're starting to sound like a baker." "And you're starting to sound like a detective."