Run: 2026-05-29-01KSSK1C2XG6QAP4GNTAGQ2DR5

The bell above the door chimed as warm air rushed in, thick with cinnamon and vanilla. "You're here early. The scones aren't even out yet." "I'm not here for scones. I'm here because Margaret Ableton was found in her garden this morning." A pause. The soft thud of a flour sack hitting the counter. "Found? You mean—" "Dead. Among her prize-winning roses, no less. The whole town's buzzing." "That's terrible. She was just in here yesterday, buying her usual lemon tart." "Was she alone?" "Now what kind of question is that?" "The kind I ask when someone dies the day after visiting the last place they were seen happy." The scrape of a chair against tile. "She wasn't alone, if you must know. She was arguing with someone. Couldn't hear about what, but she left without her tart. First time in fifteen years." "Who was she with?" "I didn't get a good look. Tall fellow, dark coat. Slipped out the back when she stormed off." "The back? Through the kitchen?" "He said he was a health inspector." "Margaret was arguing with a health inspector?" "That's what I thought was strange. We weren't due for inspection until spring." "Then who, exactly, were you letting wander through your kitchen?" The oven timer rang, sharp and sudden.