Run: 2026-05-29-01KSSK3B6HBGG61N6AE6RBZ8W5

The bell above the door chimed as warm air rushed out to meet the morning chill. "You're here early. Couldn't sleep either?" "Not a wink. Not after what happened to poor Mr. Whitley." "Keep your voice down. The whole town's already buzzing like a kicked hornet's nest." "Well, can you blame them? A man doesn't just collapse at the church bake sale for no reason." "He was eighty-three and ate four of my lemon bars. That's reason enough." "Four? I only saw him take two." "Then someone's been helping themselves when I wasn't looking, haven't they?" "Don't look at me like that. I was manning the raffle table all afternoon." "Mm-hmm. And yet there's powdered sugar on your collar." "That could be from anything." "Could it? Because Sheriff Dawes asked me this morning who had access to the kitchen." "You didn't tell him about the spare key, did you?" "Why? Is there something I should be worried about?" A long pause. Somewhere, the coffee machine sputtered. "I think we both know more than we're letting on." "Then I suppose we'd better get our stories straight before the sheriff comes back for his cinnamon roll." "Make it two. He always orders two." "Funny. So did Mr. Whitley."