Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKA8PSFQK91Z2AY2A4J313Q

You smell that? The lemon in the scones is practically waving a flag. Good. I needed a reason to open the shutters before the postman woke up. Sit—I'll fetch one, but don't touch the blueberry tart; it's Royal Mrs. Pennington's pride. She who eats tarts like confessions, I know. Speaking of, where's your little ledger? You used to keep it on the counter by the jam jars. I thought it was under the recipe box. It's not. There's a smear of red jam on the ledger's ribbon and someone left a napkin with lipstick by the espresso machine. Lipstick and ledger—romance or robbery? In our town those are basically the same thing. You make that sound like a reason to dust for prints with a pastry brush. If there were prints, they'd be coated in flour. Besides, look at the display case—one of the croissants has a button stuck to it. A button? From a coat, from a purse—Mrs. Hargreaves lost three buttons this week. She keeps knitting in the window and accusing the sparrows. Buttons and lipstick make a story. Red jam makes a motive. We could call the constable. We could also peek in the alley. If someone sneaked in for the ledger, they might have dropped a clue with the crumbs. Bring your magnifying glass or bring a roll of cling film? Cling film works miracles on pastry—and evidence.