Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKACNQ823AKKH0J9H47J3SD

"Careful with the cinnamon twists; they're the only thing behaving this morning." "The oven again?" "Fine. It's the note under the lemon bars. I thought it was parchment. It's from the pie thief." "Let me see. 'Leave the back door unlatched at dusk. Bring the blue tin.' Charming frosting, terrible penmanship." "Not frosting, royal icing. Whoever wrote it pipes for a living." "In Maplebridge, that narrows it to you, me, and the church ladies." "Add the caterer from the VFW. And look—almond extract smudges." "Mrs. Pritchard's allergic; cross her off. Who else ordered almond today?" "Only the clockmaker. He wanted bakewell slices at dawn, which is odd because he can't stand crumbs near springs." "He paid in dimes again?" "And left a trail of flour to the display case. Fine pastry flour, not ours; we switched to stone-ground last month." "You're thinking he swapped tins during the morning rush." "And used the parade bell to cover the rattle of the back door." "I'd rather think about scones." "You can, after we check his shop. Take a cinnamon twist for courage." "I'll take two. In case his conscience is as stale as your jokes." "Then let's go before the glaze sets—and the trail does too."