Run: 2026-04-27-01KQ7008Z0ENK97HGJR68GM3J6

The scent of burned sugar clung to the air, warring with the sweet yeast rising from the ovens. Dust motes danced in the shaft of light cutting across the checkered floor tiles as the bell above the door chimed, though no one entered. A tray of cooling scones ticked softly behind the glass case. "You saw him leave the alley behind the post office?" "Back of his truck, covered by a tarp that looked suspiciously like Mrs. Gable's quilt. I swear I caught a glimpse of the pink polka dots." "That quilt hasn't moved from her sewing room since '98. If Harold has it, he wasn't hauling firewood." "No, he was hauling something all right. Heavy enough to make the suspension groan, and he was sweating through his wool sweater." "Wool? In July?" "Nervous sweat, darling. Or guilt. Either way, I'm not buying his honey-dew scones until we know where those polka dots ended up." "Check the shed behind the hardware store. The lock was cut this morning." "Right. Keep one eye on Harold when he comes in for his sourdough. If he drops a crumb, I'll know he's lying."