Run: 2026-04-27-01KQ79951P7MR28JHPPPS3YM17

The bell above the bakery door chimed, cutting through the scent of yeast and cinnamon. Warmth radiated from the brick ovens, frosting the windows with condensation. "Sourdough needs more than flour, Martha. It needs secrets." "Don't start with that talk. The Association has eyes everywhere." "Eyes don't see inside the glaze. The Mayor visited this morning. He left his cane on the stool and looked like he'd seen a ghost. His napkin was torn and stained blue." "Pale from the commute. He's auditing the charity fund." "Finance or conscience? I found a silver locket in the mill dumpster. It matches your daughter's brooch from the night she vanished. You should hide the tongs." "Stop it. That locket belongs to the antique shop owner. Everyone knows it." "Everyone knows what they're told. And the Mayor's scone tasted like bitter almonds." "Almond extract. We're out of vanilla and the delivery isn't here yet. The baker swore it was safe, but the Mayor clutched his throat." "Vanilla doesn't leave a metallic tang, Mrs. Gable. Or stain fabric blue. The cloth slid across the scarred wood. I'm calling Detective Miller before the lunch rush ruins the evidence in the croissants."