# The Missing Muffin Tin The bell above the door chimed as morning light spilled across the flour-dusted counter of Sweet Crumb Bakery. "You look like you haven't slept in three days." "Two, actually. Ever since Martha Higgins turned up dead in her garden, I can't close my eyes without seeing those pruning shears." The espresso machine hissed and gurgled, filling the warm air with the scent of dark roast mingling with fresh cinnamon rolls. "The sheriff says it was an accident." "The sheriff also said my sourdough was just okay. The man clearly can't be trusted with important judgments." A nervous laugh echoed off the vintage tile walls. Outside, two elderly women paused at the window display before shuffling onward. "I found something, though. Tucked behind the flour bags in the storage room. Martha's muffin tin — the copper one she never let anyone touch." "What on earth is it doing here?" "That's exactly what I'd like to know. She was in here Thursday afternoon, remember? Acting strange, looking over her shoulder. She hid it here on purpose." "You think she knew someone was after her?" "I think Martha Higgins trusted this bakery more than she trusted anyone in this town."