Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK2MGY3JQR91KYSV5NE1322

The oven timer dinged, cutting through the heavy scent of burnt sugar and rising yeast. Flour dusted the counter like fresh snow, settling on the edges of the open ledger. A spoon rested against a bowl of dough. "You heard about the mayor?" "Hard not to. The whole town's talking over cinnamon rolls and coffee." A tray slid onto the marble surface with a clatter. Blueberry muffins, steaming, wept juice onto the liners. "Found his prize rooster in the feed bin. Dead as a doornail." "Poison?" "Looks like it. Arsenic, maybe. Or just bad grain." Hands paused over a mixing bowl, knuckles white against the steel. "Who'd want to kill a chicken?" "Who'd want to kill the mayor? Same thing, really." A cup was set down, steam curling into the air. "You think he's next?" "I think someone's baking a storm. Did you see who bought the rat poison yesterday?" "Old Miller?" "Miller spends his money on whiskey. No, it was someone sweeter. Someone who loves lemon tarts." The bell above the door jingled. A draft swept through the warm shop, flickering the candle. "Speaking of lemon tarts," a whisper cut through the air. "She just walked in." "Then hide the ledger." "Too late. She's smelling the almonds. And she's looking right at us."