Run: 2026-07-09-01KX40D9KE0QC7MQNXEZ6H4G1Z

The bell above Buttercup Bakery’s door gave its cheerful jingle just as Mabel drew a tray of cinnamon knots from the oven. “You’re early.” “And you’re burning the evidence.” “They’re caramelized, not burned.” “Mm-hm. Like the black smear on your apron is artisan charcoal?” Mabel set the tray on the cooling rack and peered through the front window. Across Maple Street, the town hall steps glittered with last night’s rain. A single blue umbrella leaned against the mayor’s office door. “That umbrella wasn’t there when I opened.” “Could belong to the mayor.” “The mayor owns only beige things. Suits, shoes, even that dreadful poodle.” A spoon clinked against a coffee cup. “Then perhaps it belongs to the person who left the parcel in your flour delivery.” Mabel froze. Beneath the counter, wrapped in brown paper, the parcel seemed suddenly enormous. “You saw it?” “Hard not to. It has my name on it.” “It has your name and my bakery’s address, which is precisely why I didn’t hand it over.” “How protective.” “How sensible. Especially after the library’s donation box vanished.” The bell jingled again, though no one entered. From outside came the soft scrape of an umbrella tip crossing the pavement. “Lock the door.” “Already did.” “And the back?” Mabel’s smile faded. “Oh dear.”