The bell above the bakery door chimed as powdered sugar drifted through the morning light. "I heard you were the last person to see Martha before she disappeared." "Who told you that?" "Does it matter? Were you?" "I sold her a loaf of sourdough on Thursday evening, same as always. She mentioned something about finally taking that trip to visit her sister." "Martha doesn't have a sister." "Well, that's what she said. Why are you asking me all these questions anyway?" "Because her cat hasn't been fed in three days, her mail is piling up, and her front door was wide open this morning." "Maybe she left in a hurry." "Maybe. Or maybe someone wants us to think she left. What else did she say?" "Nothing much. She seemed nervous, kept looking out the window. Said she was expecting someone." "Did you see who?" "No, I had customers. But when I looked up from wrapping Mrs. Chen's croissants, Martha was already gone." "And the sourdough?" "Still sitting on the counter. She never took it." The morning light seemed suddenly colder, and the sweet smell of fresh bread couldn't quite mask the bitter taste of worry.