The scent of cinnamon buns hung thick in the air. Somewhere behind the counter, a bell jingled as the door swung closed. "Did you see Margie’s face when she bit into that cruller?" "She swore off sweets last Wednesday. Honestly, I’m impressed she lasted this long." "Well, you try standing next to that pastry case without caving. Especially when Emily adds fresh raspberry glaze." "Have you asked her for the recipe yet?" "I’ve tried. She just laughs and hands me another scone. I think it’s her secret weapon." "Careful. With enough scones, you’ll start telling all your secrets." "Some secrets are heavier than almond flour, you know." "Like what happened to the mayor’s blue bicycle?" "Exactly like that. It’s funny—he claimed it was stolen, but I saw Pete wheeling something blue into the old shed on Maple." "Are you saying Pete stole the mayor’s bike and hid it?" "I’m just saying Pete doesn’t ride bikes. And he hates that shed. So why was he in there at dawn?" "You really should consider detective work full-time." "I’d rather eat scones for a living." "Well, then you’d better order another. Emily’s watching, and she expects us to keep her cover."