Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0AHB0SYJBEQC5X4G28QPPG

The bell over Poppy’s Bakery gave a sleepy jingle as rain ticked softly against the front window. Warm yeast and cinnamon wrapped around the room, and the glass case glowed with rows of scones, jam tarts, and glossy tea cakes. Mara set a tray of almond croissants on the counter. “You’re early.” “Only because I couldn’t stay away from your peach turnovers.” “Liar. You came for gossip.” A smile tugged at the corners of the other woman’s mouth as she slipped off her gloves. “There was an envelope tucked into the flour bin at the post office. No stamp. No name. Just a key.” Mara paused, dusting sugar from her hands. “A key to what?” “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be here.” From the kitchen came the thump of the oven door and the hiss of steam. Outside, a delivery truck rumbled past, tires whispering over wet pavement. Mara lowered her voice. “The baker’s charity auction starts tonight. Mrs. Bell expects the town council, three reporters, and one highly overconfident mayor. If that key belongs to anyone important, I’d prefer to know before the lemon meringue gets turned into a crime scene.” “Too late for that?” “Depends. Did you notice who bought the last blueberry tart?” A beat of silence. Then, “The man with the mud on his cuffs?” Mara looked toward the front door, where the rain had begun to sheet harder against the glass. “Exactly.”