Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0NP0YERK4AF842VDARYPNN

The bell over the bakery door gave its usual sugared jingle, though the morning felt anything but sweet. Rain stippled the front windows, blurring Main Street into watercolor. “You’re early.” “So are the police.” “They’re not police. Deputy Harlan bought two cinnamon twists.” “And asked whether anyone came in after closing.” The scent of warm butter and nutmeg filled the hush between them. On the counter, a tray of lemon tarts cooled beside a dusting of powdered sugar. One tart was missing. “Maybe he was hungry.” “Maybe he noticed the back door was unlocked.” “It sticks. You know that.” “It stuck yesterday. Today the latch is clean as a whistle.” A mixer thumped in the kitchen, then fell silent. “You think someone came in here last night?” “I think someone used our oven mitt to carry something hot, left a smear of blue wax on the flour bin, and took exactly one lemon tart.” “Blue wax?” “From a seal. Like on the envelopes Mayor Finch insists on using.” “The mayor doesn’t steal pastries.” “No, but he might hide something in one.” Outside, a siren wailed past the square and faded toward the old mill. “You’re enjoying this.” “I am not.” “You put on your investigating apron.” “It has pockets.” “It has a magnifying glass in the pocket.” “And crumbs. Very important evidence.”