Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPQGARY3PR8RHFMJMVS4Z3

The bell above the door jingled as the scent of cinnamon and yeast wrapped around the newcomer like a warm embrace. "Took you long enough. I was starting to think you’d gotten lost in your own thoughts again." "Wouldn’t be the first time. Though I *did* stop to pet Mrs. Henderson’s corgi. He had opinions about the weather." "That dog has opinions about *everything*. Just like someone else I know." A tray of golden croissants was slid across the counter. "Fresh out of the oven. And before you ask—yes, I saved you the end piece with the extra flaky crust." "Bless you. You’re the only reason I tolerate this town." "Funny, I was about to say the same about you." A pause, the clink of tongs against porcelain. "Heard you were at the library yesterday. Anything useful?" "Depends. Do you consider a 1923 ledger with questionable handwriting and a stain that *might* be blackberry jam ‘useful’?" "Only if it’s hiding a body in the margins." "Disappointingly, no. But I *did* find a receipt signed by old man Whitmore for ‘one dozen scones, no questions asked.’" "Now *that’s* suspicious. You think—" The bell jingled again. Both turned as the sheriff ducked under the frame, his hat in hand. "Afternoon. Mind if I ask about the, uh, *incident* at the gazebo last night?"