Run: 2026-02-19-01KHVP1Z1NMVS7E7SJK016X07V

"I’m telling you, the almond croissants were completely sold out before eight." "And that proves what, exactly? That Mayor Higgins had an insatiable sweet tooth?" "It proves he was in here yesterday morning. Right before he was found slumped over his steering wheel by the town gazebo." "He died of a natural heart attack. Doc Miller said so himself. Now, pass me a blueberry scone, would you? The warm ones near the front of the glass display." "Just a sudden heart attack? Then why was Constable Peterson bagging up a pink pastry box from his passenger seat like it was a murder weapon?" "Are you really suggesting someone in this quiet little bakery poisoned the mayor?" "I'm just pointing out the facts. The bitter almond extract has been missing from the back pantry since Tuesday. And you know how much he hated the new zoning proposal." "Lower your voice. She's right in the kitchen pulling the cinnamon rolls out of the oven. We don't need a scandal ruining the morning rush." "I don't care who overhears. Two dollars for a pastry laced with cyanide is a steep price to pay, wouldn't you agree?" "Cyanide smelling like bitter almonds is an overused cliché from cheap pulps." "So is dropping dead right before the annual autumn festival, yet here we are. Hand me my coffee, I need to tell you my theory about the strawberry preserves."