Run: 2026-06-24-01KVX2MHJTJAH42DPMBK761DJY

The bell above the door barely stopped jingling before the whispering started. "Did you hear about Margaret?" "Everyone's heard about Margaret. Poor thing." "Poor thing? She found a body in her garden, and she's already back at book club. That's not poor — that's unhinged." "It's called coping." "It's called suspicious, is what it is." A flour-dusted hand set down a mug of chamomile tea, then retreated behind the counter. The cinnamon rolls were nearly done, their sweetness curling through the morning air like an apology. "She told me the man was already dead when she got there. Barely dawn, she said. She went out to check on her tomatoes." "And we're supposed to believe that? Who checks tomatoes at five in the morning?" "Someone who loves tomatoes." "Someone who's covering for the fact that she was burying evidence, more like." "You shouldn't say things like that. Not here." "Why not? It's a bakery, not a courtroom." "Exactly. It's a bakery. Margaret comes in every Tuesday for a lemon scone. She sits right there by the window. If she's a murderer, she's a murderer who supports local business, and in this town, that buys you a lot of goodwill." A pause. A sip of tea. "Fine. But if she orders a lemon scone tomorrow, I'm watching her." "You do that."