Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1HF8SYHBD7M49NE7WZYWCN

The bell over the bakery door gave its polite little jingle, and warm air smelling of cinnamon, yeast, and sugared lemon folded around the room. Outside, rain silvered the windows. Inside, rows of glossy buns and berry tarts sat under glass like they had nothing at all to hide. “You’re staring at that scone as if it offended you.” “I’m staring at the empty space beside it.” “The lavender shortbread?” “The very same. There were six this morning. Now there are five, and Mabel Pike swore she never touched a crumb.” “That hardly narrows the field. Mabel has sworn off truth before breakfast for years.” A tray clinked softly behind the counter. The espresso machine hissed like it knew better than to interrupt. “It isn’t the missing biscuit that bothers me.” “No?” “It’s what was under the tray.” A pause, brief and sharp as a paring knife. “You found something.” “A key. Old brass. Tied with blue ribbon.” “Blue ribbon from the Harvest Fair?” “That was my thought.” “Then it shouldn’t be here. The fair committee locked everything up last night.” “Exactly.” Rain tapped harder against the pane. Someone laughed in the kitchen, far too brightly. “Do you suppose it opens the jam cupboard?” “If only small-town crimes were that merciful.” “And if they’re not?” “Then I’d suggest you stop eating that scone. We may need to ask who wanted everyone distracted.”