Run: 2026-09-24-01M39X0ZVNKAA872BMHEVRER4H

The bell above the door jingled as Marigold slipped inside, shaking rain from her cardigan. Behind the counter, Eleanor was boxing the last of the morning's cinnamon buns. "Those smell like heaven, Ellie. You didn't happen to see anything strange last night, did you?" "Strange? Besides old Mr. Pemberton buying a dozen croissants at midnight? He hasn't touched a carb in twenty years." "A dozen? That's odd. He was found dead this morning, you know." The oven timer shrieked. Eleanor's hands stilled over the box. "Dead? Marigold, he was in here complaining about his heart, not planning a pastry feast." "Unless he wasn't the one eating them." "What are you saying?" "I'm saying the doctor thinks poison. And I'm saying a dozen croissants is a peculiar order for a man who lives alone." "Maybe he had company. He did mention a nephew visiting from the city." "Nephew? He told me he never married and had no family at all." "Well, he told me otherwise. Last week, right here, over the lemon tarts. Said the boy was his spitting image." Marigold reached for a bun, then paused. "Eleanor, did he pay for those croissants?" "Cash. A hundred-dollar bill." "Mr. Pemberton? The man who argued over a nickel at the church raffle?" "Now you mention it... the bill did look awfully new."