Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK1KX5DKHRYPVSHZSXP2V46

"The cinnamon rolls are burning," she whispered, staring at the oven as if it had personally offended her. "They aren't burning, they're caramelizing. There's a difference, you know." "There is when the smoke alarm starts singing opera. Again." A sharp beep pierced the warm, yeasty air, followed immediately by the shrill wail of the detector. He waved a tea towel frantically at the ceiling, his face flushed pink from the heat. "See? Just a little enthusiastic browning." "Enthusiastic? The whole town thinks we're trying to signal for help. Mrs. Gable is already tapping on the window with her cane." "She probably just wants a refund on yesterday's scone. Too dry, she said. Can you believe the nerve?" "Focus, please. The rolls." He finally pulled the tray out, setting it on the cooling rack with a clatter. The scent of scorched sugar and dough filled the tiny shop, overwhelming the usual aroma of vanilla and coffee. "Perfectly golden," he declared, though a blackened edge betrayed him. "Golden like a burnt penny," she muttered, sweeping the flour off the counter. "If Sheriff Miller asks, we were testing a new 'smoked' flavor profile." "He'll buy it. He bought the 'accidental' extra salt in the pretzels last week." "That was sabotage, and you know it." "Sure, sure. Now, fix that smile before the door opens. We have a murder to solve after the morning rush, not before."