Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFGR9H3GGJC050DQKRWZT5S

Flour dusted the moonlight through the high windows, settling gently over the cooling proofers. Dust danced in the warm air. The scent of apple pie baking filled the space, competing with old wood and sweet tea. "You think the man in black dropped the evidence in the bin again?" Silence filled the room for a beat. "Or maybe Taylor just finally confessed to stealing the antique rolling pin." "The pin doesn’t have fingerprints." "But the new tourist does." They moved closer to the heat, breath visible against the blinds. Outside, the car idled, then stopped. "The bin door doesn’t latch." "How did the cat get in there if the handle was broken?" "It wasn’t the cat." A spoon tapped amber glass. "I saw your neighbor, Perkins, peeking through the front window at ten last night. He was too quiet." "Perkins hates cats." "Say goodbye to the rolling pin today." "Tell him the oatmeal cookies are poisoned." "Careful. He’s the one who runs the hardware store." "He also owns the boat in the river." "And I hate perfect scones." The bell chimed above the door. "One phone call." Steam rose from the oven.