Run: 2026-07-09-01KX40KP3FJSSVQ4WJ5E76D0P2

The bell over Crumb & Kettle’s door chimed as rain polished the windows of Bellwether’s only bakery. Behind the counter, trays of cinnamon buns steamed beside a vase of wilting daisies. “You’re late.” “I had to avoid Constable Pike. He’s asking who delivered Mayor Finch’s birthday cake.” “And what did you tell him?” “That I came for a scone.” “You hate scones.” “Pike doesn’t know that.” “He knows everything. Or pretends to.” A kettle clicked off. Outside, umbrellas drifted past like dark mushrooms. “The mayor didn’t die from the cake.” “You sound very certain.” “I baked it.” “That’s hardly reassuring.” “His slice was untouched. I saw it on the desk after they carried him out.” “Then why is the silver cake knife missing?” A tray clattered. Sugar dust rose between them. “You noticed that?” “I notice when my grandmother’s heirloom vanishes.” “And you waited until now to mention it?” “I thought you’d borrowed it.” “To stab the mayor?” “To cut marzipan. Don’t be dramatic.” The front door rattled, though no one stood outside. From the kitchen came a soft scrape, followed by the unmistakable creak of the pantry hinge. “We’re closed.” “I locked that door.” “Then who’s in the pantry?” A floury handprint appeared on the pantry door. “Whoever it is,” came a whisper, “they’ve found the knife.”