Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD86D3CZH8SKVAT0CZNDJ5A

The bell above the door jingled as a gust of October wind scattered leaves across the bakery floor. "You're here early." "Couldn't sleep. Not after what they found behind the mill." "You mean the scarf?" "I mean the whole peculiar business. Who leaves a cashmere scarf in an abandoned building?" "Someone with more money than sense, apparently." A tray of cinnamon rolls slid into the case, steam still curling off the glaze. "Have a roll. You think better with sugar." "I think perfectly well without—fine, hand it over." A pause, then a contented hum. "These are dangerous, you know." "That's what the Widow Pemberton said. Then she ordered a dozen." "Speaking of the widow—she was at the mill yesterday. I saw her car." "Her car breaks down everywhere. Doesn't mean anything." "She told me she was going to her sister's in Millbrook." "Millbrook's the other direction entirely." "Exactly." The coffee pot gurgled between them. "So either the Widow Pemberton is lost, or she's lying." "She's seventy-eight years old. What could she possibly be hiding?" "In this town? At that age? Everything, I expect. Pour me another cup—we've got a scarf to return."