Run: 2026-07-09-01KX400RG8VWC4KT1GA6R7WQEN

At six o’clock, the first snow dusted the windows of Honeybell Bakery, softening the crooked rooftops of Maplewick. Inside, Clara arranged currant scones while Mr. Finch peered beneath the flour-dusted counter. “You’re certain the silver cake server was here last night?” “Beside the wedding-cake stand. It belonged to my grandmother.” “And now it’s missing.” “That generally follows from not being here.” “No need to be tart.” “I’m surrounded by lemon curd. Tartness is unavoidable.” Mr. Finch straightened, brushing flour from his knees. A faint blue thread clung to his coat button. “Where did you get that?” “Get what?” “That thread. It matches the ribbon tied around the cake server.” “I found no ribbon.” “Precisely. Because it’s caught on your button.” Outside, the church clock chimed. Mr. Finch’s face turned pink. “I can explain.” “Please do. The constable arrives for his morning bun in seven minutes.” “I borrowed the server to cut Mrs. Wren’s anniversary cake. I meant to return it before you opened.” “Then where is it?” Mr. Finch slowly lifted his hat. Beneath it, wrapped in blue ribbon, gleamed the missing silver. Clara folded her arms. “You hid it under your hat?” “There was nowhere else.” “The bread bin?” “I panicked.” Clara took the server and placed a warm scone in his hand. “Next time, borrow the scone and leave the heirloom.”