Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFP0R97ZVDC6KR33VMXFZ3

The bell above the door tinkled softlyas she pushed it open. The warm, yeasty scent of fresh bread enveloped her. The baker, wiping flour from his hands on a stained apron, looked up from the counter where he was arranging loaves. "Morning, Mrs. Henderson. Another day, another mystery to solve?" He offered a small, knowing smile. She hesitated, her eyes scanning the familiar shelves lined with jars of preserves and tins of cookies. "I was hoping you might know something, Mr. Davies. About Mrs. Finch. She hasn't been seen since yesterday afternoon." Her voice was low, tinged with concern. He paused, his smile fading slightly. "Mrs. Finch? The one who lives down by the old mill? I saw her last week, buying her usual supply of sourdough. Said she was planning a big baking day." He leaned against the counter, his gaze thoughtful. "Strange, she never misses a baking day." Mrs. Henderson nodded, her fingers tightening on the handle of her basket. "Exactly. And her cat, Whiskers, is meowing at the door all night. It's not like her to be out of sorts." She took a deep breath. "Do you think something happened?" He straightened, his expression serious now. "I don't know, Mrs. Henderson. But if anything's amiss, we'll find out. That's what small towns do, isn't it?" He gave a small, reassuring nod before turning back to the loaves, his hands moving with practiced efficiency. The quiet hum of the oven was the only sound for a moment.