Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9AY6KES3JJ0233R29K9QV

The bell above the bakery door tinkled as sunlight slanted through lace curtains, gilding the glass case of cinnamon rolls and berry tarts. Flour dusted the wooden counter, and the air hummed with the scent of yeast and vanilla. Behind it, shelves groaned under jars of preserves, while a chalkboard menu advertised the daily special: lavender scones. "Another one gone missing? That's the third antique brooch this month." "Shh, not so loud. Mrs. Hargrove's already whispering about it at the knitting circle. Found the display case at the antique shop jimmied open at dawn." "Think it's that drifter passing through? Or maybe old Mr. Wilkins, with his sticky fingers and that new ailment he won't name." A pause, the clink of a spoon against porcelain as tea steamed in mismatched mugs. "Not Wilkins. He can barely lift a teacup these days. No, it's someone local, mark my words. Remember the note tucked in the last victim's mailbox? 'Curiosities belong to the curious.' Sounds like a riddle from one of those detective novels you devour." "Flattered, but let's not jump to ghosts or goblins. Pass the scones—I'll poke around the flower shop tomorrow. Agnes sees everything from her window." Laughter bubbled up, soft as rising dough, as the afternoon shadows lengthened.