Run: 2026-03-25-01KMJ8S2R4W5KEBSKZQ57YZXJZ

The bell above the door chimmed as the afternoon sun spilled honey over countertops. "Didn’t expect to see you here," someone said, sliding into a corner booth. A tray of scones sat between them, still steaming. "Couldn’t stay away from your famous lemon tarts," another voice replied, though their gaze lingered on the sheriff’s badge glinting on the first speaker’s belt. "Or your trouble." A laugh, soft as meringue. "You think I’d risk baking disasters after what happened at the fair?" "Three burnt pies and a fire alarm later, yeah. But here we are." The badge-wearer tapped a finger against the ceramic mug. "Still, someone’s got to keep the town entertained." The baker stirred a dollop of cream into their coffee, avoiding the stare. "You here about the missing strawberries?" "The ones deliveries keep vanishing? Could be a coyote." A pause. "Or someone with a sweet tooth." "Please. My coyotes have better manners. They’d nap by the compost pile, not steal from the shelves." A hand gestured to the empty display case. "Whoever’s doing this knows the schedule. Knows the back door." Another silence, broken by the clink of sugar packets. "Fingerprints?" "Barely any flour left to track." The baker’s smile was tight. "But there’s a note. Hidden in the pastry drawer. You want it, you’ll need to check the blueberry cobbler." The badge clinked as it was picked up. "You’re sure about this?" "Positive. It’s got your name on it." A shrug. "Literally." The wind rustled the lace curtains. Somewhere, a cake pan rattled in the oven.