Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7M7S73PR11C7H652VNCCQ

The scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar hung thick in the air. A dusting of flour coated every surface, even the worn wooden tables. “Honestly, a prize-winning rhubarb pie? Agnes Pritchard? The woman who burns toast?” “Don’t underestimate her. She’s been awfully secretive lately, popping in and out of Farmer Giles’s garden after dark.” A pause, accompanied by the clatter of a tray being slid into the oven. “You think…?” “I think it's awfully suspicious. Especially considering the competition is fierce this year.” A small, knowing smile played on the lips. “Mrs. Hawthorne’s blackberry crumble is legendary.” “And poor Mr. Peterson’s apple pie is always… well, let's just say it’s more rustic than refined.” “Precisely. Agnes saw an opportunity. And she’s not known for playing fair, is she?” A hand reached across the table, accepting a warm, sugared donut. "Though, burning toast doesn't exactly scream mastermind criminal, does it?"