Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2FB6T2ERMRPYR2BESDA52G

“Blueberry’s gone again. I can’t find a single one in the whole basket.” “That’s because you left the back door open. Blueberry pie doesn’t wander off by itself.” “Oh, very funny. You know what I mean. The jar—the one from Mrs. Higgins’s pantry—it’s not where I left it.” “Behind the flour? I put my rolling pin there this morning.” “No, not behind it. Inside. The little jar with the faded label. It’s empty now, and I found this on the floor.” A soft clink as something metal was set on the counter. “A key. Small, brass. Fit for a lockbox, maybe.” A pause, filled only with the hum of the old display case. “Well, that’s a first. Usually it’s a crumb trail or a dropped handkerchief. You sure it’s not one of yours?” “Positive. I only have two keys—the shop’s and my apartment’s. This one’s got a little scratch on it, like a cat’s claw. And Mrs. Higgins swore that jar was just her mother’s old jam. Empty for years, she said.” “People lie, dear. Especially about jam jars with hidden keys.” “So what do we do with it?” A wooden spoon tapped twice against a mixing bowl. “We bake. And we wait. Someone’s bound to come looking for it—or for the jam that isn’t jam.”