The bell above the door chimed as Martha entered, bringing a gust of autumn air with her. "You're here early. Couldn't sleep either?" "Not a wink. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing poor Harold slumped over that table." "The police said it was natural causes." "Natural causes? He was sixty-two and healthy as a horse. And did you notice his coffee cup?" "What about it?" "It was on the wrong side. Harold was left-handed. Always put his cup on the left." "Maybe he moved it." "Harold? That man was a creature of habit. Same table, same order, same everything for fifteen years." A pause. The scent of rising dough filled the silence. "You think someone..." "I'm not saying anything. Just that something feels off. And I saw Diane leaving through the back just before I found him." "Diane from the bookshop? She wouldn't hurt a fly." "People change when there's money involved. Didn't you hear? Harold was about to foreclose on her shop." The oven timer dinged, sharp and insistent. "Lord help us. You really think we have a murderer in Maplewood?"