The scent of cinnamon and fresh bread hung in the air of Sweetwater Bakery, mingling with the sound of rain pattering against the window panes. Outside, Main Street glistened under the downpour, but inside, warmth radiated from the ovens and the antique copper light fixtures. "Third 'accidental' death in six months. Doesn't that strike you as odd for a town of barely two thousand people?" "Accidents happen everywhere, even in Millfield. Just because Mrs. Peterson knew everyone's business doesn't mean someone killed her for it." "She called me the day before, said she had something important to tell me about the renovations at the old mill." "And now you think someone silenced her? You've been reading too many of those mystery novels you keep by your register." The older woman slid a plate with a blueberry scone across the glass counter, her turquoise rings catching the light. "All I'm saying is that people who discover secrets in this town have a funny way of disappearing lately." "Or maybe the stairs in her Victorian were as treacherous as everyone always said they were." "Maybe. But she never used those back stairs. Not since her hip replacement." The bell above the door jingled, and both women fell silent as the mayor's wife stepped in, shaking rain from her umbrella.