Run: 2026-03-18-01KM09HC454RZQS9RCMPXQKGEY

The bell above the door jingled as they stepped in, the warm scent of baking bread and cinnamon wrapping around them like a welcome hug. The display case gleamed under the soft lights, rows of golden croissants and flaky turnovers arranged with care. "Morning! Same as always—a cinnamon roll and a coffee, black?" "Ah, not today. Something light. Maybe that almond biscotti? The one with the lemon glaze?" "Coming right up. You hear about old Mrs. Henderson’s prize pumpkin?” "Oh Lord, what now? Not another one of her experiments gone wrong?" "Seems it vanished from the garden overnight. Mrs. Peabody swears she saw a shadow creeping about near the fence." "Well, that’s Mrs. Henderson for you. Half her plants end up in someone’s pie somehow—usually hers." "I wouldn’t put it past her. Speaking of pies, did you notice the oven acting up earlier? Left a batch of rolls burnt to a crisp. Had to toss the whole tray." "Sure did. Thought it was odd, especially after the repairman came by yesterday. Said it was fine as a whistle." "Funny indeed. Almost like someone wanted a reason to be poking around longer than necessary. Speaking of which, I found these strange tracks by the back door this morning." "What kind of tracks?" "Looked like work boots. Size nine or ten, muddy on the sole. And get this—they led straight to the back gate." "That’s odd. No one around here wears boots this time of year except the park ranger, and he’s out of town."