The little bell over the door chimed, a cheerful sound that did little to lift the sudden gloom. The air, thick with the scent of cinnamon and yeast, felt heavy with unspoken questions. “You’ll never guess what I just heard down at the post office.” “Let me guess. It has something to do with a certain locksmith and a suspiciously early morning visit to the sheriff?” “How did you—? Right, the bakery grapevine. It’s true. They’re saying it might not have been an accident after all.” “What changed? Yesterday everyone was calling it a terrible tragedy.” “His main ledger is missing. The one where he recorded who owed what. Vanished from his locked office.” “But that’s… that’s impossible. He was more careful with that book than his own wallet.” “Exactly. Here, you look like you could use the sugar. A maple cruller, on the house. We’ll need our strength.”