Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ955W3DSV5HGFKW9PYWW4ZD

The scent of cardamom and warm yeast hung heavy in the air of The Rolling Pin. A tray of cooling crumpets sat on the marble counter, their steam blurring the view of the rain-slicked cobblestones outside. "You’re absolutely sure he didn’t leave a name?" "Not a word. Just pushed that blue envelope under the flour scale and bolted before the bell even finished jingling." "And he was wearing that yellow raincoat? The one sold at the hardware store?" "Bright as a lemon. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, or at least someone he owed a great deal of money to." "Was it wet? The envelope, I mean." "Bone dry. Which is the strange thing, seeing as it’s been pouring since long before dawn." "Then he didn’t come from outside. He must have been hiding in the cellar or the storage shed." "Don't say that. I’ve got forty loaves of sourdough proofing in the back, and I’m not sharing the workspace with a fugitive." "Check the seal. If it’s from the Mayor’s office, we have a bigger problem than a soggy hemline." "I’m not touching it. Last time I poked around in local politics, my oven thermostat mysteriously vanished." "Fine. Hand me the wooden tongs."