Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8V7XD0KYX76NA803C9EG0D

The bell above the bakery door announced the morning’s first customer, its chime cutting through the fragrant air of cinnamon and proofing dough. “Your usual sourdough boule, I presume?” “You know me too well. And a raspberry thumbprint cookie, for fortification.” “Coming right up. You’re out early. Everything quiet over on Maple Street?” “Quiet as a mouse. Which is more than I can say for the library last night.” “I heard a whisper. The police were there before midnight. Margaret from the post office said something was taken from the display case.” “Not just something. The old silver teaspoon from the founding mayor’s tea set.” “But that’s worthless to anyone but a historian.” “Unless they believed the old tale about the map.” “You don’t mean the one to the—” “Shh. The walls in this town have ears, especially when they’re lined with pastry.”