The bell above the door chimed as flour dust danced in the morning sunlight streaming through the bakery windows. Steam rose from fresh blueberry muffins cooling on wire racks. "Haven't seen you since the incident at the library. How are you holding up?" "Better, I suppose. Though I still can't believe someone would steal Mrs. Henderson's prize-winning recipe collection right before the bake-off." "Any word from Sheriff Martinez about leads?" "Nothing concrete. But I did notice something odd yesterday." A wooden spoon clinked against a mixing bowl. "You know how Martha always comes in Tuesday mornings for her usual cinnamon roll?" "Like clockwork for the past five years." "Well, she ordered three dozen sugar cookies instead. Said they were for a special occasion, but wouldn't say what." "That is strange. Especially since sugar cookies were Mrs. Henderson's specialty." "Exactly what I was thinking. And get this—she paid in cash. Martha never pays cash." "You don't suppose..." "I'm probably reading too much into it. But Martha did seem awfully nervous when I asked about her weekend plans." The oven timer buzzed, breaking the contemplative silence that had settled between them.