Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0MT359FWV2MNX890F4445V

At dawn, the bell over Buttercup Bakery’s door gave its smallest jingle, the kind meant for secrets. Clara lifted a tray of lemon buns from the oven while Jonah stood by the display case, hat in hand, staring at the sugared violets as if they might confess. “You found it where?” “Wedged behind the flour bin.” “That’s impossible. I swept there last night.” “Then someone put it there after you locked up.” Clara set the tray down a little too hard. A curl of steam rose between them, sweet and sharp. “Mrs. Peabody’s brooch?” “The missing brooch. The one everyone thinks Daisy took.” “Daisy wouldn’t steal a gumdrop, let alone an emerald.” “That’s why I came before the breakfast crowd.” Outside, the town square was waking: bicycle bells, sparrows, the distant clank of milk bottles. Inside, the bakery smelled of butter, yeast, and trouble. “Who has a key?” “You. Me. Old Mr. Vale, for repairs.” “And your aunt?” “She hides hers in the geranium pot, which means half of Willowbend has a key.” Jonah pulled a paper scrap from his pocket and unfolded it on the counter. Flour dust clung to its edges. “This was wrapped around the clasp.” Clara leaned closer. “That’s my order slip for six cherry tarts.” “Who ordered them?” Clara’s eyes widened. “No one did.”