Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1HX9G6S2FD0JT52M9Y0WFZ

The bell over the bakery door gave its usual cheerful jingle, though the room itself felt strangely hushed. Morning light slanted across the glass case, turning the icing on the lemon buns into pale gold. Behind the counter, a tray of cranberry scones sat untouched. “You’re late.” “By four minutes. I assumed the town clock was running dramatic again.” “It isn’t the clock I’m worried about.” A pause, followed by the soft thump of a handbag being set on the counter. “You’ve heard, then.” “Everyone’s heard. In Maple Hollow, a dropped teaspoon counts as breaking news.” “This is hardly a teaspoon.” “No. A body in the alley does feel a touch more serious.” The espresso machine hissed. Somewhere in the back, a timer chimed and was ignored. “They’re saying he was here last night.” “He was. Ordered a sticky bun, complained the coffee was weak, and left without his change. Which, frankly, should have told me something was wrong.” “You joke when you’re nervous.” “And you start straightening sugar packets when you know more than you’re saying.” The tiny paper packets slid into a neat row. “I found this by the back step.” A faint crackle. A recipe card, smudged with flour and something darker. “That’s my handwriting.” “I know.” “But I didn’t write the time.” “Then I suppose,” came the quiet reply, “someone wanted it to look as though you did.”