Run: 2026-03-18-01KM08DZCVBRQ3EVF2KBJ8RQJ0

The bell above the door jingled softly as the morning light spilled in, illuminating the glass display case filled with golden pastries. The scent of vanilla and yeast hung thick in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of coffee from the machine hissing in the corner. One customer, bundled in a knitted shawl despite the warmth inside, leaned over the counter, tapping a finger against the glass. "Morning, dear. Usual?" The voice was warm but carried a thread of tension as another woman wiped down the espresso machine in the corner, her movements a little too deliberate. "Yes, please. And do you have those lovely cinnamon rolls today?" The knitted shawl woman tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, peering hopefully at the empty space where the swirls of cinnamon and sugar usually sat. "Fresh out, I’m afraid. Someone bought the last batch early this morning. Odd, isn’t it?" The baker rested her hands on her hips, her gaze drifting toward the door as if expecting the culprit to reappear. "That is strange. Who would buy them all?" The shawl woman leaned in, lowering her voice. "Surely not Old Man Thompson. I heard he was in here first thing, buying up every last one." "That’s what I was wondering." The baker’s brows knitted together. "Thompson? But he never buys pastries this early. And cinnamon rolls aren’t even his favorite—he usually goes for the lemon tarts." "Exactly what I thought. Something’s off." She glanced around, then back at the baker. "You don’t think it’s connected to that missing jewelry from last month, do you?"