Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQG2EN9DHE6702W4NM89FJ

The bell above the door jingled as the scent of cinnamon and buttery pastry wrapped around the newcomer like a warm embrace. "Took you long enough. I was starting to think you’d gotten lost in your own book again." "Well, if you hadn’t moved the bakery to the *other* side of the square, I might’ve found it sooner. Honestly, who rearranges a whole town overnight?" "A woman with a vision. And a very patient husband with a forklift." A flour-dusted hand waved toward the display case. "Now, are you here to complain or to eat? Because those almond croissants won’t judge your life choices." "Fine. One croissant. And a black coffee—none of that lavender syrup nonsense you’ve been pushing lately." "Suit yourself. But don’t come crying to me when your chakras stay unaligned." The cash register dinged open. "So. You going to tell me why you’re really here, or do I have to guess?" "Can’t a person just want a pastry?" "Not when that person is *you* and there’s a fresh murder in town. The whole place is buzzing like a hive of caffeinated bees." A slow exhale fogged the glass case. "Fine. But if I tell you, you have to promise not to ‘accidentally’ bake the suspect’s name into your sourdough again." "No promises." A sugar-coated grin followed. "Now spill."