Run: 2026-09-02-01M1GT462604EW4FNS6YB7XKPS

The smell of cinnamon hung thick in the early light. Behind the counter, a tray of lemon tarts sat cooling, and beside them, a box tied with butcher's string — the one everyone in Maple Hollow had been whispering about. "You're up early, even for you." "Couldn't sleep. Kept thinking about poor Harold." "Harold Addison? I heard his heart gave out." "Hearts don't give out the day after someone leaves a box of cookies on your porch, dear." Flour dusted the counter as hands worked the dough. "Careful. Half this town thinks that box came from my oven." "And the other half?" "The other half thinks you delivered it." A pause, just the tick of the oven. "I was nowhere near his house Tuesday." "That's not what Dotty Jean says. She saw a figure in a green coat." "My coat is red. Has been for twenty years." "Exactly. So whose green coat was it?" The oven timer dinged. Somewhere outside, a church bell rang seven times. "You always were the clever one. That's why I need a favor." "A favor? From a possible suspect?" "From a friend. Eat a lemon tart and tell me — does it taste like almonds?"