The little bell over the door chimed, a cheerful sound that didn't match the customer's grim expression. The air was thick with the scent of cinnamon and yeast. “Just the coffee today? No bear claw?” “Just the coffee. Black.” “Of course. It’s just… I haven’t seen Mr. Henderson in for his morning bun for two days now. He’s never missed a Thursday.” “Maybe he went on a trip.” “Without telling anyone? And leaving his back gate wide open? His golden retriever was trotting down Main Street all by himself this morning.” “Dogs get out. Happens all the time.” He slid a coin across the polished counter. “I really must be going.” “Right. I just thought, since your workshop window looks right out onto his garden, you might have seen something. His prize-winning tomatoes look a little sad without him there to water them.” “I keep my blinds drawn. I’m working.” He grabbed the steaming cup, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm against the porcelain. “I don’t see anything.”