The warm air inside The Sweet Life Bakery was a welcome hug, rich with the scent of melting butter and caramelized sugar. A glass case gleamed, showcasing rows of perfect pastries basking under a soft light. “Is that a new scone? Cherry-almond?” “Fresh out of the oven. Your usual sticky bun as well?” “Not today. I don’t think I have the stomach for it. You’ve heard about Mr. Pettigrew, I assume?” “I saw the flashing lights from my apartment window last night. Dreadful.” “He was in here just yesterday afternoon. Bought that ridiculous six-layer chocolate cake.” “I remember. Said he was celebrating a windfall. Looked happier than I’d seen him in years.” “Happy? That’s not what Eleanor at the library said. She saw him on the town green an hour later, having a furious argument with someone in a dark-green car.” “An argument? He paid me with a crisp fifty and told me to ‘keep the change for a rainy day.’ Said his luck had finally turned.” “Well, it seems it turned again. For the worse.”