Run: 2026-03-18-01KM095E8GZCVPVVJ81E98BDK8

The bell above the door gave a cheerful jingle, then fell quiet under the hum of the mixer. Cinnamon and warm vanilla wrapped around the front counter, where a tray of lemon tarts cooled like bright little suns. “I can’t believe someone stole from a bake sale,” Maribel said, sliding a napkin across the counter. Flour dusted her cheek like a blessing. “It wasn’t the bake sale,” Nora replied, lifting the lid on a pastry box as if it might confess. “It was the charity donation jar. The one with the hand-painted cat on it.” Maribel leaned closer. “I watched you lock up at closing.” “Didn’t help,” Nora said, checking the corner of the shelf. “The jar is missing. But look.” She pointed to the empty space beside the cooling rack. A single breadcrumb trailed toward the storage door. Maribel frowned. “That’s… not from bread.” Nora’s voice softened. “No. It smells like cloves and pepper.” Maribel straightened, suddenly all business. “Someone’s been in the back. Our spice cabinet.” From behind the display cake, the oven timer clicked off with a smug little beep. Nora reached for the cabinet handle, then paused. “You think they came for the jar, but took the wrong thing?” Maribel nodded toward the tray of tarts. “Or they wanted to leave a message—and forgot to wipe their boots.”