Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK98HBM4KYGMDQJPT5AFFN5

“The bell’s been rewired again. That’s the third time this month.” “I told you, it’s not faulty, it’s nervous. It senses trouble before we do.” “Trouble doesn’t smell like cinnamon rolls and burnt coffee.” “Smell past the cinnamon. That sharp, metallic note? That’s police tape waiting to happen.” “Or the mixer overheating. You’re jumpy. It’s just a bakery.” “Just a bakery doesn’t get broken into without anything stolen.” “Nothing obvious stolen. Cash box untouched, display case intact… but someone wanted something.” “Like what? Yesterday’s scones? They’re practically weapons.” “Recipes. Records. Secrets. Small towns keep more of those than cash.” “Who’d break in for recipes when everyone’s aunt already has a better version?” “Then why did they only open the red recipe box under the counter?” “You checked?” “You leave flour handprints everywhere. On the lid, but not on the others. Fresh ones.” “…You notice too much.” “That’s my job. Yours is pretending everything’s fine while kneading dough like it insulted your mother.” “What do you want me to say? That the missing card isn’t about bread?” “So something is missing.” “Just Grandma’s old gingerbread recipe.” “People don’t sneak in at midnight for gingerbread.” “In this town, they do—when she baked it the night old Mayor Pritchard vanished.”