Run: 2026-04-27-01KQ74M50MFGYFT10X8MS6VWBM

The morning bell chimed as the heavy oak door clicked shut. Ground cinnamon and fresh yeast warmed the quiet room. Behind the scarred pine counter, a flour-dusted apron swished against the checkered tiles. "The vanilla beans are gone." "Gone? I left three pods on the ceramic jar." "Not gone. Swapped." "Swapped for what?" "Dried lavender. Tied with baker’s twine." "That doesn’t make any sense. Lavender ruins the custard." "Exactly why I’m asking." "Mr. Henderson never makes mistakes." "He has since Tuesday. Check the delivery logs." "I did. The signatures match perfectly." "Then check the flour sacks instead." "The white ones by the window?" "The bottom corner. Look at the stitching." A heavy canvas sack shifted on the metal shelf. Thick wool thread had been carefully unpicked and hastily re-tied in a loose knot. Sunlight caught the dust motes dancing above the cooling racks. "Someone was digging." "Or hiding. The cash register stands wide open, but the leather ledger is completely missing." "You think it connects to the historical society files?" "I think someone wanted you to notice the lavender, while they were hunting for the numbers." "And if we find them?" "We knead the truth into tomorrow’s sourdough."