Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK9NQTSE7K96J4BMPBFEY6Y

The bell over the bakery door jingled as the morning rush thinned. Sunlight slid across the glass cases, turning rows of cinnamon rolls into little golden halos. The air smelled of sugar, butter, and just a hint of something burned. “You’re early. You only show up this soon when you’re nosing around.” “Or when I’m hungry. Don’t pretend your scones aren’t worth an interrogation.” “Flattery won’t get you a discount. Coffee?” “Black. And one of those blueberry ones, before Mrs. Carter buys the whole tray again. She came in already?” “No. That’s the problem.” “Since when is it a problem that she’s not here buying out your stock?” “Since she called at five a.m. in a panic, begging me to open the shop early. Said she ‘needed to check the back room.’ Then she hung up.” “And?” “When I got here, the back door was unlocked, the flour bin was open, and someone left footprints in the spilled sugar.” “Burglar with a sweet tooth?” “Burglar with muddy boots. And look at this.” “A key? That’s not yours?” “Never seen it before. I found it on the floor by the walk-in fridge.” “You think it’s Mrs. Carter’s?” “I think it’s why she’s not here.”