# The Missing Ingredient The morning sun slanted through the front windows of Sweet Crumb Bakery, casting golden rectangles across the flour-dusted counter. A tray of cinnamon rolls sat cooling on the rack, their icing dripping in lazy spirals, while the bell above the door chimed softly. "You heard about Dorothy's garden shed, I suppose." "Heard about it? I could see the police lights from my bedroom window. Three in the morning, flashing blue across my ceiling like a terrible disco." "They found her recipe box in there. The one that went missing from the church potluck last September." "That recipe box has been missing for months. Why would someone hide it in Dorothy's shed?" "That's precisely the question, isn't it? Dorothy swears she never goes in there since Harold passed. Says the lock was rusted shut." "But someone opened it." "Someone with bolt cutters, according to Chief Walters." The espresso machine hissed and gurgled. A dusting of powdered sugar drifted from a freshly topped éclair like snow. "There were pages torn out. The winning blueberry scone recipe — gone." "People have killed for less in this town." "Don't joke about that. Not after what happened to Margaret." The bakery fell quiet except for the ticking of the oven timer.