Run: 2026-02-19-01KHVPDN5FSRQ20BD0SRX31AFE

The little bell above the door chimed, cutting through the warm, heavy scent of powdered sugar and rising yeast. Morning sunlight struck the glass pastry case, highlighting neat rows of glazed scones, cherry Danishes, and fresh brioche. "I couldn't believe it when I heard. Right in the middle of choir practice." "People are saying it was the chamomile tea." "It wasn’t the tea. I poured myself a cup from that exact same thermos just moments before. I'm perfectly fine." "Then it must have been the biscuits. The ones Edith brought?" "Precisely. And you remember who Edith had a screaming match with at the rotary club yesterday over the new flower beds." "Lord. You don’t think she’d actually go that far over a simple landscaping dispute?" "I think anyone who uses that much almond extract is trying to cover something up. Bitter almond, if you catch my drift." "Cyanide? In an orange-cranberry butter biscuit? That’s utterly ridiculous." "Is it? She asked for my shortbread recipe last week. Said she was looking for a truly killer crust." The espresso machine hissed and sputtered, suddenly drowning out the quiet hum of the display fridge. Beyond the frost-tinged front window, a police cruiser rolled slowly past the bakery.