Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ95JZRG5FN1AP5QV09XZM2X

The bell above the door gave its signature brassy chime, cutting through the heavy scent of proofing dough and warm cinnamon. A dusting of flour settled on the glass counter as a tray of glazed scones slid into the display case. "You’re late. The crullers are already cooling, and the coffee’s halfway to bitter." "I had to wait for the yellow tape to go up around the gazebo. You’d think a stolen topiary was the crime of the century." "It isn't the topiary they’re worried about. Have you seen the north flowerbed? It looks like someone was digging for buried treasure, not planting marigolds." "The Sheriff was there, looking like he’d spent the night in his cruiser. He kept poking at a patch of navy blue fabric snagged on the rose thorns." "Blue? Like those silk scarves Mrs. Gable sells at the boutique?" "Exactly like those. Only this piece was scorched at the edges. Now, how does silk catch fire in the middle of a damp garden at midnight?" "Maybe it wasn't fire. My nephew says those new high-yield fertilizers can be quite volatile if mixed incorrectly." "I’ll take the poppy seed lemon cake. And a lid for this coffee. I have a feeling I’ll be spending the afternoon at the hardware store, seeing who’s been buying gallon jugs of ammonia." "Watch yourself. In this town, gossip travels fast, but a killer’s temper travels faster."