Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKAAR35C35AQPKKFHF3JD8G

The bell over the bakery door gave a cheerful jingle that didn’t quite match the mood behind the counter. Cinnamon and warm butter hung in the air, but the glass case looked oddly picked over, as if someone had been rummaging rather than choosing. “So you’re telling me the strawberry tarts just… vanished?” “Vanished is generous. I’d say liberated. One minute they were cooling, the next minute the rack was bare and the back door was unlatched.” “That back door sticks. You need a shoulder to move it.” “Unless someone knew the trick. Lift, then pull. Like you do.” “That’s a rude accusation wrapped in pastry.” “If the apron fits.” A floury hand slapped a smear off the counter. In the reflection of the display glass, a pinched face leaned closer, eyes scanning the shelves as if the missing desserts might blush and reappear. “What about the camera? You finally installed one.” “It caught three hours of nothing and then, right at noon, a lovely view of the ceiling. Someone tilted it up.” “Noon,” a voice repeated softly. “That’s when the charity committee met in the café next door.” “And that’s when your friend the mayor ‘popped in’ for a free scone.” “He paid.” “With a promise.” The bell jingled again, and both pairs of eyes snapped to the door. “Smile,” came a whisper. “Whoever did it likes an audience.”