Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1J951N3NN1E39W7E1KQ6FZ

The bell over the bakery door gave its usual cheerful jingle, though the morning itself had a nervous sort of hush to it. Sunlight slanted across trays of sugared crullers and glossy fruit tarts, catching on the glass case and the dusting of flour still hanging in the air. “You’re early.” “I couldn’t sleep.” “That makes two of us. Coffee?” “If it’s as strong as yesterday’s, I may see through walls.” A mug slid across the scarred wooden counter. The scent of cinnamon buns, just out of the oven, wrapped itself around everything, warm and almost enough to make the world seem ordinary. “So it’s true, then.” “In a town this size? By dawn, it was true three different ways.” “They really found him behind the bandstand?” “That’s what I heard. Though Mabel insists it was beside the begonias, and she’s never let accuracy interfere with a good story.” A laugh came, quick and uneasy. “He was here yesterday.” “Buying scones.” “Lemon poppy seed. Two of them. He said he was meeting someone.” “Did he say who?” “No. But he kept checking the window like he expected trouble to come strolling down Maple Street.” Outside, a truck rumbled past. Inside, the old clock ticked above the bread shelves. “You don’t think—” “I think in Alder Creek, murder and muffins ought never share the same morning. And yet, here we are.”