The morning sun streamed through the front window of Sweet Crumbs Bakery, casting golden light across the display case filled with fresh croissants and blueberry scones. "You heard about Martha's garden gnome, I assume?" "The one that went missing last Tuesday? Found it myself, actually. Sitting pretty on the bench outside the library." "No! You're joking." "Hand to God. Had a tiny note tucked under its arm too. Something about overdue books." The espresso machine hissed and gurgled, filling the cozy space with the rich aroma of freshly pulled shots. "That's the third strange thing this month. First the switched mailbox flags, then those cryptic messages in the church bulletin, and now this." "Someone in Maple Creek has too much time on their hands." "Or they're trying to tell us something." A tray of cinnamon rolls emerged from the kitchen, their sweet glaze still glistening. The bell above the door chimed as an elderly man shuffled in, clutching a folded newspaper. "Speaking of mysteries, here comes Harold. He claims he knows who's behind it all." "Harold thinks his cat is psychic." "Doesn't mean he's wrong about this."