Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2EEQVDHGZNSXTPYN0TAA3A

“I still say it’s odd that the church raffle started the same week as the fire.” “Thyme and butter don’t mix. You’re reading too much into a flour bin left too close to the gas line.” “Margaret’s flour bin has been in that exact spot for forty years. She even named it. Calls it ‘Norbert.’” A pause, muffled by the crinkle of a wax-paper bag. “She named her flour bin.” “She named the whole bakery’s inventory. You didn’t know? That rolling pin over there is ‘Barbara.’ Now, answer me this—if Norbert had been there that long, and Mrs. Pendleton’s curtains were always damp from the steam, why didn’t he catch fire before?” “Maybe someone moved him.” “Exactly. Someone who wanted to make sure the fire started *after* the raffle tickets were sold. For insurance, or for something else.” A soft thud of a fresh loaf being set on the counter. “That’s why I’m sticking with scones today. They don’t keep secrets.” “All right, but I’m buying a cruller. If I’m going to solve a mystery, I need sugar.” The bell above the door jingled. No one looked up.