Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ04ESPH7KXMKTSFBFG3EVT5

The bell above the door chimed as flour dust motes danced in the morning sun. Yeast and vanilla lingered in the warm air, mixing with the sharp scent of espresso from the corner machine. Behind the display case, cherry scones cooled beside rows of lemon bars, the glass still smudged from yesterday’s rush. A tray of cinnamon rolls steamed gently on the steel counter, their glaze catching the morning light. "You’re here early." "Couldn’t sleep. The cinnamon rolls called to me." "They don’t start talking until dawn. Trust me, I’ve listened." "Maybe I heard them rehearsing. Or maybe I needed an alibi." "An alibi? At six in the morning in a bakery?" "Someone tampered with the contest entries last night. All the blueberry pie registration forms vanished from the community center." "I heard. Tragic." "You don’t seem surprised." "I’m a baker. Nothing shocks me after midnight." "Were you here after midnight?" "Slow down, detective. I was kneading sourdough and listening to true crime podcasts. Entirely alone." "Convenient." "Delicious, actually. Try the cherry scone. It’s far less suspicious than your line of questioning." "Maybe I’ll take two. One for evidence." "Evidence goes stale." "Not if I bag it properly."