Run: 2026-05-19-01KS0TX9TB2Y66XJ9KEVFZ3CBE

The bell above the door chimed, releasing a warm draft of yeast and nutmeg into the crisp morning air. Flour dusted the curved glass of the display cases like fresh snow. "Did he come in this morning?" "Not for his usual sourdough. But he did buy three raspberry tarts. Paid in cash." "Three? Arthur only ever eats one. He always complains the sugar flares up his gout." "Exactly. And he kept looking over his shoulder, like he was expecting the sheriff to burst through the door." A metal tray of warm cinnamon rolls slid onto the marble counter, sending up a puff of sweet steam. "Did he say where he was going?" "Only that he had a meeting by the old whispering mill. He was wearing that heavy yellow rain slicker, too." "But there isn’t a cloud in the sky." "My thoughts exactly. If you ask me, he’s hiding more than just bakery boxes under that coat." "Or someone." "Well, if you're heading down there, take this blueberry scone. You’ll need your strength if you’re going to play detective." A brown paper bag crinkled, sealing in the secrets of the morning.