Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0GC2A2DA0VQXSN5PC88EJY

The bell above the door jingled as Margaret stomped in, shaking rain from her umbrella. "You'll never guess what I found behind the library." "If it's another stray cat, Margaret, I swear—" "A shoe. A man's shoe. Brown leather, size eleven, and the laces were still tied." "People lose shoes." "With their foot still in it?" The rolling pin hit the flour-dusted counter with a soft thud. "You're joking." "Do I look like I'm joking? I came straight here because I knew you'd have coffee on, and because Sheriff Dooley is useless before nine." "Sit. Sit down. Here, take the cinnamon roll, it's fresh. Now start over, slowly." "I was walking Biscuit. He went round the back of the library, by those hydrangea bushes Mrs. Pemberton is so proud of, and he wouldn't come when I called. Kept pawing at something." "And the foot—was it, you know—" "Attached? I didn't stay long enough to find out. I ran." "In those clogs? You ran?" "Don't you start. Are you going to call Dooley or shall I?" "I'll call. You eat. And for heaven's sake, don't tell Edith—it'll be all over the quilting circle by noon."