Run: 2026-09-23-01M37PGG32YEW3GCJJ4SSE91FX

The bell over the door of the Crumb & Kettle jingled just as the last tray of cinnamon rolls came out of the oven. "You're open early, Marjorie." "I'm always open early. You're the one who's never up before nine, Sheriff." "Couldn't sleep. Somebody broke into the Hendersons' shed last night." "And you came here because...?" "Because whoever did it left a trail of powdered sugar from the shed door all the way to the garden gate." "Half this town eats my lemon crinkles. That's hardly evidence." "It's not the sugar. It's what was mixed in with it." "Don't keep me in suspense." "Dried lavender. And there's only one person in Millbrook who bakes with lavender." "Oh, for heaven's sake. I sold a dozen lavender shortbreads yesterday." "To whom?" "You know perfectly well I don't keep a list—" "Marjorie." "Fine. Six went to the church bake sale committee. Four to Doris Pemberton, who claims they're for her book club, though I've never seen a single book." "And the last two?" "...Your deputy. He said they were for his mother." "His mother's been in Florida since March." "Then I suppose you'd better have a cinnamon roll before you go have a word with him. On the house." "Make it two. It's going to be a long morning."