Run: 2026-05-10-01KR910JRMMB6537C5TWVNEYYR

The scent of warm cinnamon and yeast hung heavy in the air of The Sugar Spoon. Sunlight streamed through the flour-dusted windows, illuminating a row of perfectly glazed éclairs. "Another lemon tart, Clara?" "I can't eat today. Did you hear about the mayor?" "I try to stay out of town politics. It’s bad for the batter." "This isn't politics. He was found in the rose garden this morning. Face down in the mulch." "Good heavens. Who found him?" "The gardener. But that isn't the strange part. It's the envelope tucked into his breast pocket." "An envelope?" "Sealed with a heavy wax stamp. Inside was a tiny, silver key." "That sounds oddly specific." "Exactly. And I couldn't help but notice the key looks identical to the one you reported missing last Tuesday." The whisk in the baker's hand stopped mid-turn, a single drop of vanilla extract landing on the polished marble counter. "I have no idea what you're talking about." "Of course not. But the police will be stopping by for tea soon, won't they?"