Run: 2026-06-01-01KT1H1G1C3761HESGHF9QRQGA

The bell above the door chimed as the morning light spilled across the flour-dusted counter. "You're here early. Couldn't sleep either?" "Not a wink. Not after what happened to poor Mr. Abernathy." "Keep your voice down. The whole town's already talking." "Can you blame them? A man doesn't just collapse at the church bake sale for no reason." "The doctor said it was his heart." "His heart? That man ran the marathon every spring. Healthier than both of us combined." "What are you suggesting?" "I'm suggesting you taste those lemon bars he bought right before. The ones from the table next to mine." "You don't think—not Margaret's lemon bars?" "I think Margaret had every reason. He was about to expose what she did with the festival funds." "That's a serious accusation. You'd need proof." "Which is exactly why I saved this." A paper bag crinkled against the countertop. "Is that—" "The last lemon bar. Untouched. I slipped it into my purse before anyone noticed." "You stole evidence?" "I preserved it. There's a difference." "We should call Sheriff Dawes." "And tell him what? That two old women playing detective swiped dessert from a crime scene?" "When you put it that way..." "Pour the coffee. We've got work to do."