By the time the lunch rush ended, Janet’s nerves were completely frayed. The dining room was finally empty, so she locked the front door and retreated to her tiny office in the back. She collapsed into her creaky desk chair, her mind racing as she replayed the morning’s events.

The note. The biscotti. The text message.

Janet’s phone buzzed, startling her. She snatched it off the desk, her stomach clenching. But it wasn’t another anonymous threat—this time, it was Detective Callahan: “We’re still processing the scene. Let us know if you think of anything else.”

Janet frowned, staring at the screen. She didn’t trust this Detective and sensed he might be trying to make her nervous or keep a close eye on her. She responded with a thumbs up emoji.

She leaned back in her chair and shoved her hands into her apron pocket. She felt a piece of paper and pulled out the receipt she had found in the alley. She crumpled it up in her hand and tossed it into the wastebasket next to her desk before it hit her: The police already had the note and the crime scene to work with, but was this evidence, too?

Detective Callahan’s words echoed in her mind, stirring unease. There had to be more pieces to this puzzle. She had read enough cozy mysteries to know that a receipt like this one might actually count as circumstantial evidence. She took a picture of it with her phone and sent it via text to Detective Callahan.

Her message read, I found this in the alley. I’ll hold onto it for you in case you need it.

She hit send and her thoughts turned to the list of people who might’ve had access to her biscotti, and more importantly the notepad. Mia was the only one with keys to the bakery, but ultimately Janet trusted her. Then, there was Emma. It’s true she had stopped by unexpectedly the day before, and she acted so nervous today, however, Janet admitted that didn’t necessarily seem unusual for her. 

And Greta Lawson, the sharp-tongued food critic, had lingered suspiciously long during her last visit, peppering Janet with questions about the secrets behind her recipes. She was definitely a suspicious character, but would she actually murder someone? And would she even know who Nathan was?

Janet grabbed her notepad where she had begun to list suspects earlier and continued jotting down notes, her pen moving faster as her thoughts raced. Before long, Janet had filled half a page with possibilities.

The afternoon sun poured through the bakery’s front windows, casting long golden shadows across the counter. Janet busied herself with organizing the day’s receipts and mentally preparing to close for the day. She hadn’t seen or heard from Lucas Flynn since his awkward visit earlier, but she couldn’t shake the memory of how he’d glanced toward the alley, his expression tense.

Her phone buzzed again, and her pulse quickened. Another message? But when she checked, it was just a reminder to review her upcoming supply order. Janet sighed in relief, though she couldn’t shake the pit in her stomach.

Her focus was broken by a sudden tap on the glass of the front door. Janet’s head snapped up, her heart racing. She glanced at the clock - it was well after closing time. She hadn’t realized how late it had gotten.

Steeling herself, Janet stepped into the front of the bakery. Standing on the other side of the front door was a tall man in a tailored blue suit. 

Janet approached and said, “Sorry, we’re closed,” her voice steadier than she felt. “Can I help you with something?”

The man smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not here for pastries, Ms. Cutter. I’m here to talk about Nathan Parks.”

Janet froze, her mind scrambling. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice tight.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek business card, pressing it against the glass so she could read it. “My name is Harris,” he said simply. “And I think we both know this wasn’t just an accident.”

Janet turned the lock on the door and invited the man inside. He stood, looking out of place among the bakery’s warm, rustic decor. His polished shoes gleamed under the overhead lights, and his sharp gaze swept the room with unnerving precision.

Janet’s pulse quickened. “What do you mean by that?”

Harris tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “Nathan had enemies, Ms. Cutter. People who didn’t want him digging into their business. He reached out to me a few weeks ago about… certain concerns. And now he’s gone.” His gaze flicked toward the kitchen. “This bakery seems to be at the center of it all.”

Janet bristled, her grip tightening on the counter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I had nothing to do with this.”

“Perhaps not directly,” Harris said smoothly. “But Nathan was trying to protect someone—or something. And the fact that he ended up here, of all places, isn’t a coincidence.” He gestured toward the evidence bag peeking out of his coat pocket. “I assume the police showed you this?”

Janet nodded, her throat dry.

Harris stepped closer, lowering his voice. “If you want to stay out of this mess, I’d suggest you tread carefully. Nathan trusted you for a reason.” He straightened, smoothing the front of his suit. “I’ll be in touch.”

With that, he turned and walked out the door, leaving Janet standing in stunned silence, her mind spinning with more questions than answers.

As the door closed behind Harris, Janet’s phone buzzed again. Instantly realizing that she had not yet heard back from Detective Callahan, she was already writing the response to him in her head, informing him of the creepy visit she just had. But when she checked the screen, her breath froze. It wasn’t a text from the detective, but an image—a close-up photo of her Golden Almond Crunch biscotti, unmistakably hers, with a single word typed beneath it:

“Careful.”

The truth is closer than ever… Can you piece together the clues before Janet does? Check your inbox tomorrow for the final chapter, Part 4: Crumbs of Truth.