Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8EQSQBCZP6HBVTY2HA14C

The bell above the door tinkled merrily as a gust of autumn air swirled in, carrying the scent of woodsmoke. A delicate ceramic robin, perched on a stack of pumpkin scones, wobbled slightly. “Honestly, Beatrice, you wouldn’t *believe* the state of Old Man Hemlock’s garden. Completely overrun. Positively scandalous for the Garden Club president.” “Scandalous, you say? More tragic, I think. Poor man. He’s not been the same since… well, you know.” A soft chuckle. “Though leaving the bindweed to riot *is* a bit much, even for grief.” “It's more than bindweed. There were… gardening gloves. Lying right next to the prize-winning roses. And a trowel. Bent double.” “Bent, you say?” A pause, the clink of a fork against a china plate the only sound. “That *is* peculiar. Old Man Hemlock never mistreated his tools. Treated them better than some people, if I recall.” “Exactly! And Mrs. Gable swore she saw a dark car parked on the lane late Tuesday night. Said it sped off when she called out.” “A dark car… and a bent trowel. Sounds like more than just a neglected garden, doesn’t it?”