Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9V7AC69XXSXJ63HQ8MH90

Flour dusted the gingham-draped counter, cinnamon curling from a batch of snickerdoodles cooling in wicker baskets. A chipped ceramic sugar bowl teetered where someone had knocked it earlier, sun slanting through the bakery’s frosted windows to gild the mess. The bell above the door had gone silent an hour ago—closing time, but neither had moved. “Did you notice the locket was gone from the display case by the register?” “The one with the pearl inlay? The one Mrs. Harlow left for consignment last week?” “Mhm. I checked the back room twice—she swore no one else had a key besides us.” “I saw a stranger loitering yesterday, hood up even though the sun was blazing. He kept staring at that case like he was memorizing the latches.” “Did you get a look at his face?” “Only a glimpse—scuffed work boots, a frayed leather glove hanging from his pocket. Left right before I locked up.” “I called Mrs. Harlow; she’s distraught. Said the locket was her mother’s, hidden in a cake tin during the war.” “Maybe we should check the old cake tins in the storage closet—he might’ve stashed it there to come back for later.” I’ll grab the flashlight from under the cash register. The tin shelves stick worse this time of year.