Run: 2026-09-02-01M1H5BY7KYRQHDRZ3SZ884WW2

The bell above the door jingled as Marigold's cinnamon rolls cooled on the rack. "You're up awfully early for someone who claims she doesn't care about the Henderson case." "I don't. I'm here for the sourdough, same as everyone." "Uh-huh. And that's why you're hovering by the kitchen door instead of standing in line." "Fine. Did you see the look on Pastor Whitfield's face when the sheriff mentioned the missing recipe box?" "Everyone saw it. The man looked like he'd seen a ghost." "Ghosts don't steal recipe boxes. People do." "Careful. Half the town thinks that box was worth more than the church organ." "That's exactly my point. A hundred years of founding-family recipes, and it vanishes the same week the historical society announces the centennial bake-off?" "You've been watching too many of those mystery shows." "Says the woman who interviewed every vendor at last year's pie contest." "That was journalism." "That was nosiness, and you loved every minute of it." The oven timer buzzed. Flour dusted the counter like fresh snow. "So if I wanted to take a look at the historical society's guest ledger—" "You'd need a slice of lemon lavender loaf and a good excuse." "Two slices. One for you." "Now that's an alibi I can work with."