Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ07ATVKN96TQ250A6X8DQWS

The scent of cinnamon and browning butter hung thick in the air, interrupted only by the soft hum of the glass display fridge. Flour dusted the wooden counter in a fine, even layer. "Did you see the lights at the old Miller place last night?" "Couldn't miss 'em. Flashed on and off like a firefly having a panic attack." "Well, Mabel swears she saw a figure in the upstairs window." "Mabel also swears her cat can predict the lottery. That house has been empty since the flood." "Exactly. So who’s up there dusting the furniture? And more importantly, who’s taking my pastries?" "What do you mean?" "The cherry turnovers. I counted out a full dozen for the front display at five this morning. Now there are eleven." "Maybe you miscounted. It was early." "I don't miscount. Look at the gap. Right there, between the apple fritters and the blueberry scones. Someone was in the kitchen." "The front door was locked." "The back door was unlocked for the flour delivery. Which, by the way, never arrived." "So you think a ghost stole a turnover?" "I think whoever was poking around the Miller house last night worked up an appetite."