Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ94MFNB2FW9NK7HPPHQVK8H

The scent of proofing dough and roasted pecans hung heavy in the air, a warm blanket against the morning chill rattling the windowpanes of The Crumbly Corner. "He was there again, wasn't he?" "Third time this week. Standing right by the sourdough starters, looking like he’d lost his last penny or his mind." "Did he buy anything this time, or just shadow the display case?" "A single lemon tart. He paid with a crisp twenty and didn't wait for the change." "That’s not like Arthur. He usually counts his nickels twice before letting them go." A tray of almond croissants slid onto the cooling rack with a rhythmic metallic clink, sending a cloud of powdered sugar into the air. "And his shoes. Did you see them?" "Polished to a mirror shine? He’s usually such a stickler for those old brogues." "They were thick with red clay. The kind you only find down by the old quarry." "The quarry? Nobody’s been down there since the county fence went up." "Exactly. And he had a smudge of something dark on his shirt cuff. I’d bet my best rolling pin it wasn't blackberry jam." "Lord have mercy. We should probably mention it to the Sheriff before the charity bake sale starts." "I already have. He’s coming by for a coffee and a cruller at ten."