Run: 2026-10-08-01M4D9W8MGG9ZZPYXXJJPRTKT0

The bell above the door jingled, and Marjorie didn't look up from the cinnamon rolls. "You're early," she said. "Or late. Hard to tell with you lately." "Half past six. Same as always." The stool scraped across the tile. "Did you hear about the Pemberton ledger?" "Everyone heard. Lydia's been wailing about it since Tuesday." Marjorie slid a napkin-wrapped scone across the counter. "Eat that. You look like you slept in your car." "I did, sort of. Couldn't stop thinking about the back door." "The one that's always jammed?" "Jammed open, Marj. Someone oiled the hinges." A pause. Flour drifted from the rolling pin. "And you're telling me this because?" "Because the only people who knew that door worked were us and whoever sold Lydia the lock." Marjorie set down her knife. "Careful. That's a serious accusation to make over a scone." "Then help me think of a better one."