Run: 2026-07-01-01KWE9VF4HDVGH7WX9XX3C1HC4

The bell above the door jingled as Margaret shook the rain from her umbrella, the smell of cinnamon and fresh bread wrapping around her like a familiar quilt. "You're late. I already gave your usual to Mrs. Fenwick." "You didn't." "I did. She looked at me like I'd handed her the crown jewels." "Well, make me another, then, and don't skimp on the icing this time." The baker wiped flour from her hands onto her apron and leaned against the counter, lowering her voice. "Did you hear about Walter Higgins?" "What about him?" "Found dead in his shop this morning. Constable Reeves is asking questions all over town." "Dead? Walter? He was just in here yesterday complaining about the price of butter." "That's what makes it strange. He wasn't sick. Wasn't old, not really. Sixty-two isn't old these days." "Someone did something to him, then." "That's what I think, but I didn't say it." "You just did." "I mean I didn't say it to Reeves." "Why not?" "Because the last person who argued with Walter about butter prices was standing right where you are now." A long pause settled between the pastries. "That's absurd." "Is it? You do love your butter."