Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKACS7J7WZBDT53FW2V153C

"You smell that? Cinnamon and something spicier. Clove?" "We don't use clove in the morning buns. Not since Mrs. Finch sneezed herself cross-eyed." "Then why is it on the counter, nestled behind the sugar tin?" "Because the sugar tin isn't sugar. Taste it." "Salt. Someone switched them." "During the rush? I never left the counter, except to ring up the postman." "And the flour trail to the back door says someone did. See the neat ovals? Dance flats." "Only one person rehearses at this hour, two streets over. Why sneak in here to sabotage scones?" "Maybe they weren't after scones. Look at the display of lemon tarts." "No, the candied peel spells something. Tilt your head. E-L-M." "Elm Street. The church keeps the bake sale cash box there." "You kept the key in the biscuit tin. Which is missing." "And the mixer cord’s warm. Someone ran it without batter to hide the lock popping." "Coziest kind of crime. Flour, clove, a note in peel. Check under the napkins." "A sprig of lavender. That's her signature." "She’ll pass by the elm at ten. Put out fresh croissants." "As congratulations. Thieves here can't resist an end-of-stakeout pastry."