Run: 2026-07-09-01KX40ZSWJDYPQXJVVEA3REQH2

The bell over the door gave a nervous jingle as rain tapped the bakery windows. Behind the counter, Clara lifted a tray of cinnamon rolls and frowned. “Tell me that isn’t what I think it is.” Mabel peered into the empty space beside the pastries. “The mayor’s campaign pin?” “Wedged in the dough. Right before baking.” Mabel adjusted her flowered spectacles. “That explains the metallic taste.” Clara lowered her voice. “It was in the display case this morning. Now the mayor is claiming someone stole his lucky pin.” “And you found it in a cinnamon roll?” “Found half of it. The other half is missing.” Mabel glanced toward the front window, where muddy footprints crossed the tiles and vanished near the flour sacks. “Who had access to the kitchen?” “Only you, me, and Mr. Pritchard.” “The mayor’s opponent?” “He came in at dawn, pretending to order bran muffins. He left with six.” “Pritchard hates bran muffins.” Clara reached beneath the counter and produced a crumpled paper bag. “He left this behind.” Mabel opened it. A smear of blue icing marked the inside, along with a single copper button. “His coat has brass buttons,” she whispered. “And the bakery’s old delivery cart has copper ones.” They stared at each other as the bell jingled again. Clara slipped the pin fragment into her apron. “Then we’d better find out who delivered the mayor’s trouble.” Mabel smiled. “Before someone orders another batch.”