Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK12NYN2705H6TTE7EZXS5A

The scent of warm sourdough hung thick in the air, masking the underlying tension. "Did you hear about old Mr. Henderson's prize-winning scones? Gone. Just vanished from the display case before the morning rush." "Gone? That's impossible. The back door was locked tight, and I have the only key." "Unless someone climbed through the flour-dusted window above the sink. It was cracked open when I arrived." "Nonsense. Who would climb through a window for a scone? They're just biscuits, for heaven's sake." "These weren't just biscuits. They had the lavender honey glaze. The one recipe he swore he'd take to his grave. Someone knew exactly what they were looking for." "Maybe it was a mistake? A customer grabbing the wrong box?" "With the 'Do Not Touch' sign glaring right above it? I don't think so. And there was this... note left in the empty tray." "A note? What did it say?" "Just three words: 'Too sweet now.' It makes no sense unless... unless someone switched the sugar for salt before baking, and Henderson found out." "The man has enemies over pastry? In Maplewood?" "People get strange when their reputations are on the line. Check the security camera behind the espresso machine. The lens is crooked again." "I'll check. But if this is another one of your pranks, I'm banning you from the cinnamon rolls for a month." "No prank. Look at the floor. Those aren't flour footprints; they're muddy boot prints leading straight to the alley."