"The cinnamon rolls are definitely burning this time." "Let them char. I need to finish reconciling this ledger." "You've been staring at that page for twenty minutes. Something about the Mayor's wife?" "She ordered three dozen lavender cupcakes on Tuesday. Paid in crisp hundred-dollar bills. Then canceled the bridge club catering yesterday morning without explanation." "So? Perhaps she simply changed her menu." "She used the exact same invoice number as last month's bulk order from Hemlock's Hardware. Identical formatting. Down to the penny." "You're suggesting she's cooking the books over buttercream?" "I'm saying flour and fertilizer shouldn't share receipt paper. Pass me that whisk?" "Marjorie, you're imagining conspiracy in powdered sugar." "Then explain why Old Man Hemlock's delivery truck was parked at her rose cottage at midnight. Engine running, lights extinguished." "He could've been... napping?" "He was carrying heavy shovels. And looking over his shoulder like the dough rises at midnight." "You're impossible. At least try the new lemon scones." "Only if you agree to help me check the alley behind her garden tonight." "I suppose I'll bring the thermos. You bring your ridiculous theories." "Deal. But first, take those rolls out before Sheriff Dan smells smoke and decides to investigate us instead of the real criminals."