Run: 2026-04-24-01KPZTTX8VY79KNDRMENJSG76V

The bell above the door jingled as Margot swept in, trailing the scent of rain and lavender. Edith didn't look up from the cinnamon rolls she was glazing. "You heard about Harold, I suppose." "I heard three versions before breakfast. Which one are you bringing?" "The one where he wasn't at the lodge meeting Tuesday night. The one where his car was parked behind the old Whitaker place until nearly midnight." A pause. The icing drizzled in slow, thoughtful loops. "And how would you know where his car was parked, Margot?" "I was walking Biscuit." "At midnight. Past the Whitaker place. Which is nowhere near your house." "Biscuit has been restless." "Biscuit is seventeen years old and blind in one eye." "All the more reason for long walks. Are those the lemon ones?" "They're for the Hendersons. I'll box you two of the raspberry." "You're a saint." "I'm a woman who knows when she's being bribed for discretion. Sit down, Margot. Tell me what you actually saw." The glazing knife went still. Outside, the rain thickened against the window, and the little bakery seemed, for a moment, to hold its breath.