Run: 2026-07-07-01KWZ350BHPDRZ5WS0QFZ8WDER

“The cinnamon rolls are perfect this morning. That little extra hint of cardamom.” “You would notice. You’ve got a nose for secrets, not just spices.” “Flattery will get you a free scone. Or the truth, if you’re buying.” A soft laugh, then the clink of a coin on the glass counter. “Fine. I’m buying. Did you hear about the break-in at the antique shop?” “Hard not to. Mrs. Henderson has been telling everyone who’ll listen. Her silver locket, gone. And her prize-winning cat.” “But the cat came back this morning. Scratching at her back door, hungry and filthy.” “Did it? Now that is curious.” “Curiouser still—the locket was found inside its collar. Snagged on the clasp.” The sound of a coffee mug being placed on a saucer. A long, thoughtful sip. “So the cat didn’t steal it. Someone put it there.” “That’s what I’m thinking. A message, maybe. Or a warning.” “Or a misdirection. Someone who knows Mrs. Henderson’s habits—and her cat’s hiding spots.” “You always see the threads before anyone else.” “Occupational hazard. When you spend your days kneading dough, you learn to spot what doesn’t rise properly.” A pause, filled only by the distant hum of the oven fan. “I’ll take a dozen shortbreads. And whatever theory you’re not quite saying out loud.” “I’m not saying anything yet. But check the shop’s back door lock. Mrs. Henderson swears it was secure, but locks can be tricked with the right tool.” “A baker’s tool?” “A baker’s hands are strong. And patient. They know exactly how much pressure to apply.”