Run: 2026-02-19-01KHVP0RJANGQWAAN7FP7K1PZX

The brass bell above the bakery door chimed, its bright tone instantly swallowed by the hiss of the espresso machine and the rich, yeasty scent of rising cinnamon dough. Morning sunlight streamed through the flour-dusted windows, illuminating rows of perfect powdered éclairs inside the glass display case. "I thought you'd never get here. Take a warm blueberry scone." "I couldn't possibly eat. Not after what they found in the mayor's prize-winning rhubarb pie." "It's just a nasty rumor." "The sheriff's yellow tape is currently blocking off the town gazebo. That isn't a rumor." "People overreact to simple indigestion all the time." "Indigestion doesn't generally involve traces of industrial antifreeze." "Well, the mayor was always remarkably careless in his garage. You know he kept his gardening supplies right next to his apple press." "Carelessness doesn't explain the missing town ledger. Or why his deputy is suddenly booking a one-way train ticket out of the valley." "He always did hate the autumn chill. Besides, the blueberry scones truly are spectacular today. They help calm the nerves." "How can you be so unnervingly calm about a potential murder?" "Because I happen to know the mayor despised rhubarb. Whoever ate that poisoned slice at the festival last night, it certainly wasn't him."