Run: 2026-03-09-01KKACD9XS0C0KSNB9N9SG23QY

Morning light glazed the front window of Buttercup Bakery, turning the rows of apricot danishes and iced buns into something almost holy. The bell above the door gave a timid jingle as a gust of October air slipped in, carrying the scent of damp leaves and chimney smoke. “You’re up early for someone who swore never to speak to me before coffee.” “I said before good coffee. Yours counts.” A tray of cinnamon rolls landed on the counter with a soft, buttery thump. Behind the glass case, sugar sparkled like fresh snow. “Then explain why you’re staring at Mrs. Bellamy’s lemon tart as if it insulted your ancestors.” “Because it’s missing.” “One tart is missing?” “One tart was reserved for the church raffle, boxed, ribboned, and sitting right here ten minutes ago.” “That does seem bold. We’re not exactly a hotbed of pastry crime.” “Tell that to the flour on the back step.” There was a pause, the kind that made the old clock above the coffee urn sound suddenly loud. “Flour?” “And blackberry jam on the doorknob.” “So either a thief broke in for one lemon tart, or Mrs. Bellamy finally snapped.” “You joke, but she did lose last year’s raffle to a crocheted toilet roll cover.” “Motivation at last.” A smile tugged at the warm bakery air, then faded. “What’s that under the display case?” “A button.” “From whose coat?” “In Maple Hollow? That narrows it down to everyone and their aunt.”