Run: 2026-09-23-01M36RBV67JTF2PKH907JANZY6

The bell above the door gave a nervous jingle, though there was no wind. Mara glanced up from the tray of cinnamon buns. Across the counter, Elsie Finch clutched a paper parcel to her chest. “Tell me you didn’t sell the lemon tart to Mr. Pritchard.” Mara dusted flour from her hands. “I sold him a slice. He was alive when he left.” “That’s not what I meant.” Elsie lowered her voice. “The constable found a silver button beside the garden gate.” Mara’s smile faded. “Pritchard wore a silver-buttoned coat.” “And you baked him a tart.” “I bake for everyone.” Elsie set the parcel down. Its paper had a dark, damp corner. “Then you won’t mind if I ask what’s inside.” “Two almond twists. Unless they’ve turned into evidence.” “Funny.” “Only when I’m nervous.” The old clock ticked above the jam shelf. Outside, the town square lay quiet beneath a veil of mist. Elsie unfolded the parcel. A silver button rolled across the counter and stopped beside the sugar bowl. Mara stared at it. “That wasn’t in there when you came in.” “No.” Elsie’s fingers tightened around the paper. “But someone wanted us to think it was.” The bell jingled again. Neither woman looked toward the door.