Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2E3G033NXKCFNTCF4Q2PSA

The bells above the door had long since gone silent, leaving only the hum of the pastry case and the heavy, yeasty warmth of cooling bread. A damp rag slapped against the glass countertop. “You’ve been quiet since the morning rush.” “I’m trying to figure out if I’m imagining things, or if someone’s playing a very expensive prank.” “Define expensive.” “A single vanilla bean left in the flour bin. Madagascar, perfectly plump, split right down the middle. Not ours. Our order hasn’t come in.” “Maybe a gift from the spice shop?” “Tessa would’ve left a card. She’d want a testimonial for the town newsletter. No, this was placed there after I locked up last night.” A chair scraped against the tile floor. Outside, the fog pressed against the window like a held breath. “The lock’s still stiff from when the deputy jimmied it for the stray cat.” “Exactly. They didn’t use the door. And the bean was sitting on top of a receipt I filed three days ago for two dozen orange-currant scones.” “The ones Delia Maplewood ordered for the book club.” “Delia Maplewood died last Tuesday.” Silence settled, thick as meringue. A teaspoon traced nervous circles in a forgotten latte. “The coroner said heart attack.” “He also said she’d eaten a very peppery meal. The same coroner who’s been buying double-chocolate muffins every day since she passed.” “And today? What did he buy today?” “Nothing. He just slid a vanilla bean across the counter and asked if I’d picked up any interesting new recipes.”