Run: 2026-04-27-01KQ72F7KHXARPC4982BP0AJND

The bell above the door jingled, cutting through the heavy scent of cinnamon and rising yeast. Steam fogged the display case glass. "Mrs. Gable's scone recipe is definitely off. Too much cardamom. Almost bitter." "Or perhaps there's too much bitterness in her heart. You've been staring at that recipe card like it confessed to embezzlement." "Not that she's a thief. But the ledger showed a gap exactly when she was locked in the walk-in freezer 'cleaning.' Coincidence? I think not." "Baking doesn't lie, Eleanor. But bakers have secrets. Besides, who has time to steal when you're kneading dough until your knuckles turn purple?" "Someone who needed a disguise. Did you see the flour on her apron? It wasn't dusted; it was caked, like she'd been hiding in the flour bin." "Flour gets everywhere. It's in your hair, too." "This is different. And her eyes? Red-rimmed. Not from steam. From crying over something far worse than a failed batch of blueberry muffins." "Hand me that jar of preserve. The strawberry ones. The suspicious kind." "Careful. The walls have ears, and so does the cat under the counter. Now, eat your scone before I tell everyone you cried during the rom-com marathon."