Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKAENGE2MGRW090A7BAPRDY

“You’re late. The cinnamon rolls staged a revolt.” “They smell contrite to me. Did you burn another batch or is that just small-town gossip aflame again?” “Neither. Somebody picked the lock on the back door.” “Again? That’s the third time this month. Maybe they’re just after the secret scone recipe.” “If they were, they’re terrible at it. Nothing’s missing. Not the cash, not the pastries, not even the apricot jam with the lid welded on by Satan himself.” “Anything moved?” “The ledger. It was on the counter last night. This morning, it was tucked under the flour bags.” “That ancient blue book with the flowered cover? Maybe it just walked away in shame from your math.” “Laugh it up. The pages were warm. Like someone had been holding it. There was a smudge of chocolate on last Thursday’s entry.” “You don’t use chocolate on Thursdays.” “Exactly. And none of our regulars ordered anything chocolate yesterday.” “So someone broke in, touched nothing edible, ignored the register, and left mysterious cocoa fingerprints on your orders.” “Doesn’t that sound like a breadcrumb trail to you?” “In a bakery, everything sounds like a breadcrumb trail.” “Say it. You think I’m imagining things.” “I think someone’s using your bakery to send messages.” “Then we’d better figure out who’s reading them before they order something…deadly.”