Run: 2026-05-01-01KQHRCT5BS0K3ZPMAYYRB78J4

The scent of fresh cinnamon rolls wrapped around them like a warm hug as the morning light filtered through the bakery’s lace curtains. “I still can’t believe she used margarine instead of butter in the crust. Who does that?” “Someone who doesn’t want the truth coming out, that’s who. I found her old recipe card yesterday, tucked behind the flour bin. Real butter. Three sticks.” A timer dinged softly. “Hand me that spatula, will you? These scones are about to stage a revolt. Anyway, I’m telling you, the night Edna died, the lights were on in the bakery till two in the morning. Harriet never works past six.” “Exactly. And that fancy new mixer of hers? Paid for in cash the very next week. No way a part-time pie baker swings that kind of money.” Steam rose from the kettle as two mugs clinked onto the wooden counter. “So we agree. Tomorrow we invite her over for coffee and your award-winning lemon bars.” “Correct. And if she reaches for seconds before confessing, we’ll know she’s guilty. Nobody takes two of my lemon bars unless their conscience is eating them alive.”