The bell above the door chimed, briefly letting the chill October air wrestle with the scent of warm yeast and cinnamon. "Close that quick, would you? The glaze on the apple fritters is setting up." "Sorry, sorry. My hands are full. I brought the paper." "Just set it on the counter. What can I get you? The usual lemon poppy seed?" "Actually, make it a double chocolate muffin. I need the fortification. Did you see the headline?" "I’ve been elbow-deep in rye flour since five. I haven’t had a chance to breathe, let alone read." "They found a muddy boot print on the gazebo steps. Right where the antique quilt was stolen." "You don’t say." "I do say. And guess whose size it matches?" "I haven’t the foggiest." "The new librarian. The quiet one with the thick glasses." "Seems a bit far-fetched. He hardly looks like he could steal a newspaper, let alone a heirloom quilt." "That’s what he wants you to think. I saw him jogging this morning, and he didn't limp once. Very suspicious for a man who claims to have a bad back." "Here’s your muffin. On the house, if you promise to stop scaring away my customers with that talk." "I’m just stating facts. And maybe add a coffee to that order. Black."