Run: 2026-02-18-01KHQ92N6QR9SMAFFYQB7RPQTD

The morning rush had barely begun when the bell above the door chimed its familiar welcome. The smell of cinnamon rolls and fresh coffee hung thick in the warm air. "You heard about Gerald Finch, I suppose." "Who hasn't? Half the town was talking about it at the farmers market yesterday." A paper bag rustled across the counter. "The usual, please. Two croissants and a blueberry muffin." "Coming right up. They're saying it wasn't an accident, you know." "I did hear something like that. Dorothy at the post office mentioned the sheriff had questions. Real questions, she said." The tongs clinked against the display case as pastries were carefully selected. "Gerald owed money to half this street. That's no secret." "Mm. Though owing money and ending up face down in Creller's Pond are two very different things." "Are they, in this town?" A pause settled between them, comfortable and weighted, the way only small-town silences can be. "That'll be four fifty." "Keep the change." The coins landed softly on the counter. "Just promise me one thing." "What's that?" "Save me two of those lemon tarts tomorrow. Something tells me it's going to be a long week."