The front door chimes, slicing through the heavy silence of the early afternoon. Flour motes danced in the slivers of sunlight filtering through the glass, settling on the counter between two heavy copper kettles. "Did you see the booth at the fair?" "I did, and my heart almost stopped right there in the aisle. It’s gone." "The blue ribbon preserves? But that was last year." "No, the new batch. The raspberry ripple. Mrs. Halloway's prize-winning entry. It’s not in the display case." A tray of pastries clattered against the marble slab as the baker stopped wiping the counter. "Impossible. I just restocked it an hour ago. That tart was the star of the show." "Maybe it wasn't meant to stay on display. I heard whispering near the vendor tent." "Smells like sabotage to me." "Or a bigger mess entirely. Did you spot Mayor Miller?" "He was stalking the riverwalk when I left. Probably looking for another opportunity to tear down the gazebo. The police are swarming the fairgrounds now." "At least someone is doing something. I’m going to call Halloway." The bell chimed again, but no one entered.