Run: 2026-09-02-01M1GS0ZZRM6KPYMKNECCGZDCJ

Morning light slanted across the display case, catching the glaze on a row of lemon tarts. "You're up early. Usually it's the Hendersons first, and they don't stumble in until half past." "Couldn't sleep. I keep thinking about poor Gerald." "Gerald Croft, the man who collapsed at the harvest dinner? That was no accident. I told half the church committee before the paramedics even arrived." "Did you?" "Everyone heard me, which is why I've been careful. Two of his lemon tarts came from this very case, and now nobody will so much as look at them." "Worse than the time you put salt in the sugar bin?" "Don't remind me. But listen — Gerald came in the night before. I never told the sheriff because, well, he frightens me. Gerald bought a whole tart and asked me to box it plain. No ribbon, no label." "Why would he hide where he bought it?" "That's what I keep asking myself. Unless he wasn't the one eating it." The oven timer buzzed somewhere in the back. "You've gone pale. Sit down. I'll pour the coffee, and then I'll tell you exactly what Gerald said when I handed him that box."