Run: 2026-03-18-01KM08K0J860KV5GJR38RJZD0M

The bell over the bakery door gave a bright little jingle as Nora came in from the misty street, bringing a gust of cold air and the smell of wet leaves. “You’re late,” Mrs. Finch called from behind the counter, where a row of pear tarts cooled beneath a wire rack. “I found a clue.” Mrs. Finch’s hands stilled over the pastry brush. “That sounds much less pleasant than the last time you said it.” “It was in the flour bin at the library fundraiser. A silver spoon. Not a regular one—engraved with a sunflower.” Mrs. Finch’s eyes narrowed. “Sunflowers don’t belong in flour bins.” “No. But they do belong on the old Hazelton tea service.” The baker glanced toward the back room, then lowered her voice. “You’ve been asking about that missing set all week.” “And you’ve been pretending you don’t care.” A thin line formed between Mrs. Finch’s brows, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “I care very much. Especially if someone has been sneaking into my bakery after closing.” Nora leaned closer. “You think it’s connected?” “I think,” Mrs. Finch said, lifting a tart and setting it on a plate, “that if someone hid a stolen spoon in my flour, they were either very foolish or very hungry.” Outside, the church clock struck noon. “Which do you prefer?” Mrs. Finch slid the tart across the counter. “In this town? Both usually lead to trouble. Eat first. Investigate after.”