The glass display case was still fogged from the morning rush, the lingering scent of cinnamon and yeast hanging heavy in the air. "You’re staring at the maple glaze again." "It’s a work of art. Almost too pretty to eat." "It’s a donut, not a Monet. Just eat it before the health inspector walks in." "He’s not due until next month. Besides, I have bigger problems than hygiene ratings." "Let me guess. The mayor’s missing cufflink?" "How did you know about that?" "Small town. News travels faster than the smell of burnt coffee. Did you find it?" "No, but I found something else in the flower box. A button. A shiny, black pearl button." "That doesn't belong to the mayor. That belongs to the widow Henderson’s winter coat. I remember admiring it at the bake sale." "Exactly. And she hasn't left her house since Tuesday." "So, what are you saying?" "I’m saying that widow Henderson might be baking more than just her famous rhubarb pie." "You think she’s involved with the... you know?" "I think you should pour me another cup of coffee and keep your eyes on the door. Things are about to get interesting."