Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2JE1C1NEC5HPKCW5JEBJYB

The warm, yeasty air wrapped around the two figures like a familiar blanket, the only sound the gentle hum of a refrigerated display case. “You can’t seriously think old Mr. Henderson had anything to do with it. The man uses a walker.” “A very sturdy walker. Aluminum frame. Could easily have delivered a blunt-force trauma.” “To a jar of raspberry preserves? It wasn’t a murder weapon, it was the thing that was stolen. Along with a sourdough loaf and a half-dozen cheese scones. That’s not a crime of passion, that’s a crime of… peckishness.” “It’s the principle of the thing. The lock on the back door was jimmied with a professional touch. A simple bread heist doesn't explain the precision.” “The ‘professional touch’ was a credit card slipped between the latch. I did it myself last Tuesday when I forgot my keys. And besides, look. A trail of powdered sugar, leading right from the display case.” “Straight to the alley. The perpetrator is long gone.” “Not to the alley. Look again. It circles the case, then stops right at the corner booth. The one where Beatrice always sits. The woman who swore off carbs for her New Year’s resolution.”