Run: 2026-02-19-01KHVP66564Z4XNSYCW8MTKN8M

The scent of warm cinnamon and rising yeast filled the small bakery, a sharp contrast to the biting autumn chill pressing against the frosted front window. Sugar dusted the wooden counter like freshly fallen snow. "Did you hear about the Mayor?" "I’m trying to pipe this vanilla buttercream. Hold on. What about the Mayor?" "Found face down in the town square gazebo. Gertrude said he turned completely violet." "Violet? Like cyanosis violet, or blackberry-filling violet?" "Don't joke about it. It was right after the harvest festival committee meeting. They found a half-eaten scone clutched in his hand." "Please tell me it wasn't one of ours." "It had coarse sanding sugar on top." "We use coarse sugar. So does the cafe across the street." "But the cafe doesn't use those fancy imported Dutch parchment wrappers." "Oh, dear." "Sheriff Miller is already taking statements. He’s going to ask exactly who bought the spiced blackberry batch yesterday afternoon." "I need to check the receipt ledger. Did you see anyone acting strange around the pastry case?" "Only Mrs. Higgins, but she's always acting strange. Besides, she violently hates blackberries." "True, but she hated the Mayor more." "Exactly. Pass me that frosting spatula. We have some serious digging to do before the badge walks through that door."