Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0P13GCADBCMDXEQB86MN64

The bell over the bakery door gave its usual cheerful jingle, though the morning had gone quite still. “You’re early. The cinnamon rolls aren’t iced yet.” “I’m not here for cinnamon rolls.” “That is the saddest sentence ever spoken in this shop.” “I found something in the alley behind the flour bins.” “If it’s another raccoon wearing Mrs. Pettigrew’s garden hat, I refuse to get involved.” “It’s Mr. Wilkes’s pocket watch.” The whisk clattered into the mixing bowl. “He never takes that off. Not even when he kneads sourdough at the church fundraiser.” “Exactly.” “Where is Mr. Wilkes?” “That’s what I hoped you knew.” “I saw him yesterday afternoon. He bought a lemon tart and asked whether nutmeg could cover the taste of something bitter.” “That’s an odd question for an insurance agent.” “He said it was for a recipe.” “Mr. Wilkes thinks toast is a recipe.” Outside, a delivery truck rumbled past, rattling the front window where painted cupcakes smiled in pink frosting. “There’s something else. The watch was stopped at 9:17.” “The same time the power flickered last night.” “And there was powdered sugar on the chain.” “That narrows it down to half the town.” “No. This sugar was lavender.” A slow breath filled the warm, buttery air. “Only one person ordered lavender shortbread yesterday.” “Mayor Bell.” “And she insisted on paying cash.”