Run: 2026-07-01-01KWE90D7ZH0G4PBWAE11R3A7G

The bell above the door jingled as Margaret shook the rain from her umbrella, the scent of cinnamon and fresh bread wrapping around her like a warm blanket. "You're late. I already ate the good scone." "There's more than one good scone, Dottie. Don't be dramatic." "The lemon poppy seed ones sold out an hour ago. Some woman bought six of them, if you can believe it." "Six? Who buys six scones?" "That's what I said. And she paid in cash, wouldn't take a receipt. Practically ran out the door." "Sounds suspicious." "Doesn't it? And then, not ten minutes later, that reporter from the county paper comes in asking about Harold Pemberton's will." "The will that hasn't even been read yet?" "That very one. Asked if anyone local had come in acting strange. I told him half this town acts strange before their morning coffee." "What did he say to that?" "Wrote it down like it meant something. Ordered a black coffee and left without tipping." "Well, that settles it then." "Settles what?" "He's definitely hiding something. Nobody skips a tip unless they've got guilt weighing down their pockets." "Margaret, that's not how it works." "Isn't it though? Now, tell me more about this scone woman."