Run: 2026-02-25-01KJBG69F7VG8BGJTBJ004FCDK

The bell above the door remained silent, the whole town holding its breath. The scent of burnt sugar and yeast hung heavy in the air, masking the very sharp tang of anxiety. Morning light filtered through the glass display case, illuminating dust motes dancing over rows of untouched danishes. The coffee machine hissed quietly in the corner, a lonely sound in the empty shop. "You look like you haven't slept since the coroner left." "Sleep is overrated anyway. Besides, the sourdough won't rise itself." "Is it true? He was found in the flour bin?" "Don't joke about that. It wasn't funny then, and it isn't funny now." "I'm not joking. Mrs. Gable says she saw him arguing with the baker's apprentice." "Mrs. Gable thinks the mailman steals garden gnomes. Take her word with a grain of salt." "Still the apprentice left the back door at midnight." "I was there. I was kneading dough." "Alibi?" "Flour on my apron. Blood on my conscience?" "That's grim. Even for you." "Someone wanted him dead. The question is why." "The will?" "Always the will." "I'll bring you a fresh warm croissant. On the house." "Keep it. I need to think deeply." "Fine. But don't let the truth go cold." "The truth is always cold and bitter." The oven timer dinged loudly.