The glass display case fogged slightly as the door swung open, bringing a gust of crisp autumn air to clash with the warm scent of vanilla and roasted almonds. "One of those lemon tarts, the ones with the candied zest on top." "Last one. Lucky you. Everything alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost." "Worse. I saw the coroner’s van parked outside the antique shop on Main. Lights flashing, siren silent. Spooky." "Mr. Abernathy? He opened just last week. Maybe he had a heart attack." "Maybe. But Mrs. Higgins was just in here buying sourdough, and she said she heard shouting coming from the back room late last night. Nasty, threatening shouting." "People argue. Especially in small towns where everyone knows everyone else’s business." "She said she heard a crash too. Like a heavy vase hitting the floor. You don't crash a vase during a heart attack." "That will be three dollars. Try not to let your imagination run away with you before you’ve even had breakfast." "I’m telling you, this town isn't as sleepy as we like to pretend. There’s something rotten in that shop, and it isn't just the dust." The little bell tinkled again as the door clicked shut, leaving only the hum of the refrigerator and the lingering scent of suspicion.