The scent of burnt sugar and yeast hung heavy in the air, overriding the crisp chill of the morning. A flour-dusted apron rubbed against the counter as a tray of blueberry muffins slid onto the cooling rack. "You’re ignoring me." "I’m measuring vanilla. Precision requires silence." "I saw you at the town hall last night. Lurking near the storage closet." "I was looking for the extension cord. Which, by the way, was missing." "And that’s exactly why the police are questioning the treasurer. He claims the secret deed was hidden in that very closet." The oven timer dinged, sharp and piercing. "People in this town have too much time on their hands. Here, take this bear claw before you start hypothesizing about the treasurer’s alibi." "Hypothesizing? Please. I heard him arguing with the librarian not ten minutes before the lights went out." "Eat your pastry." "Not until you admit you saw who took it." "I saw a shadow. Now, are you going to buy that lemon tart, or just hover over it?"