Run: 2026-09-02-01M1H5AWJKMSN0X0F0AKD1SABD

The bell above the door jingled as Marianne flipped the sign to "Closed," but someone slipped in anyway. "You're out of the lemon tarts already. All twelve of them." "You say that like it's a crime." "Maybe it is. Harold Bisby bought the last one an hour before he was found dead on the pier." "Harold ate a lemon tart every morning for thirty years. That's hardly suspicious." "Except he never paid. Cash box is short twelve dollars, and he left his wallet on the counter." "You checked his wallet?" "I checked after Edna came in wailing that the police are calling it an accident. Harold was a strong swimmer. Swam laps in the lake every summer since before either of us was born." "Hmm. And yet he bought nothing else. No coffee. No bread. Just came in, bought the tart, and walked straight out again?" "Not straight out. He paused by the window table where the tourists were sitting." "The two from the city? They checked out of the boarding house this morning without a word. Left the rent on the dresser." "Everyone's leaving, aren't they?" "Everyone with something to hide." The oven timer dinged, sharp as a gunshot. "Well then. Fresh batch of lemon tarts. Care to stake out the pier?" "Thought you'd never ask."