Run: 2026-09-23-01M37P6CYPDMZ4TBQW2SQ36DJN

The bell above the door jingled, but Marjorie barely looked up from the cinnamon rolls. "You're late." "Couldn't help it. Half the town was crowded around the fountain this morning. You heard about the church raffle money?" "Every last dollar of it, gone. And Pastor Lindstrom swears he locked the box in his office Sunday night." "Locked boxes don't stop folks around here. Remember when the Hendersons' prize jam vanished from the county fair?" "That was raccoons, and you know it." "Sure it was." A pause, the clink of a coffee mug set down on the counter. "Anyway, I heard Dorothy was seen at the church Sunday after service. Alone." "Dorothy Priddle? She wouldn't steal a napkin. She returns library books early—with apologies." "Then explain why she paid off her bakery tab in full Monday morning. Cash. Crisp twenties." "Maybe she finally sold that quilt collection." "With what she owes me, she couldn't sell enough quilts to buy a birthday candle." A warm roll slid across the counter. "Here. On the house. But you tell me one thing first." "Anything." "Who told you about the twenties?" "Earl. Down at the hardware store." "Earl." A slow shake of the head, flour dusting the apron. "The only man in three counties who sees nothing and knows everything."