Bennett savored her coffee as she looked around. Like most bakeries, Mario, his wife, Gloria, their son, Joey, and their pastry chef, Ernesto, had been up long before dawn, and they had already filled two of the three glass cases with deliciousness in all shapes and sizes. Cupcakes, frosted in autumn colors and decorated with candy corn, stood like soldiers across the top shelf of the first case, and the rest held trays of assorted cookies and brownies. Muffins and sticky buns were the first to appear in the next case, and below were freshly baked croissants and bagels. Pyramids of pumpernickel, wheat, white, and Italian loaves wrapped in cellophane bags were lined up along the back counter, and baguettes shot up from baskets like bouquets of flowers.

Bennett set her coffee down long enough to pull out her wallet, and placing some cash on the counter, she slipped her billfold into her pocket, picking up her drink as Mario came out of the kitchen.

“By the way, did you hear what happened last night?” Mario said, placing the ciabatta into a bag. “There were three people killed in the park.”

“What?” Bennett said, taking the bread from Mario.

“Just before midnight, we were woken up by all the sirens and lights, so I got dressed and went over to see what was going on. I heard a couple of cops saying the victims had their throats cut, but there’s nothing in the morning paper yet. I already checked.”

Even though Bennett’s face was as still as stone, her mind was spinning like a cyclone. “Mario, can you do me a favor? I’m heading out of town for the day. Could you grab me copies of all the afternoon editions when they come out?”

“All of them?”

Bennett pulled out her wallet and handed Mario some cash. “Yeah, as many as you can find. I’ll stop by on my way home and pick them up. All right?”

“Yeah, sure. You know me. I’ll be around.”

“Thanks.”

***

“Are we there yet?”

Gus looked in the rearview mirror, tickled to see his other backseat passenger’s expression matched his own. “Almost,” he said, adjusting the mirror to look at his other passenger. “Just a few more minutes.”

“I should have stayed home,” Fallon mumbled, sinking further into her seat.

“What’s the problem with spending the day with your old man? Better than dress shopping with your mom and sister, isn’t it?”

Fallon’s pout vanished in an instant. “Okay, so you have a point.”

“I thought you’d say that,” Gus said, his eyes sparkling in the mirror.

“So, who’s this guy you’re going to see?” Fallon said, turning to Bennett.

“He’s an old friend,” Bennett said, uncrossing her legs. “Do you remember meeting Lisa and her brothers at the gallery?”

“Yeah. The tall, blonde people who work for you.”

Bennett snorted. “That’s right, and Oskar is their father.”