Run: 2026-07-01-01KWEAGGPSKV81B778VDYDZTE7

The smell of cinnamon rolls hung thick in the air as the bell above the door jingled softly. "You're here early." "Couldn't sleep. Kept thinking about what you said last night." "About the flour?" "About the flour going missing the same night Harold Pruitt turned up dead in his garden." "That's a stretch, don't you think? Flour disappears from bakeries all the time. People forget to pay, or Delores takes an extra bag for her sourdough experiments." "Twenty pounds, though? That's not a bag, that's practically a shipment." "You've been reading too many of those mystery novels." "Maybe. But you didn't see how nervous Ted got when I asked about it. Practically dropped his tray of muffins." "Ted drops trays when someone sneezes too loud." "Fine, laugh all you want. But somebody used that flour for something, and I intend to find out what." "And if it turns out to be nothing? If Delores really did take it for bread?" "Then I'll apologize and buy you a dozen of these cinnamon rolls." "Deal. But you're paying even if you're right." "Wouldn't have it any other way." The oven timer chimed, and steam curled from the pastry case like a secret waiting to be told.