Run: 2026-07-09-01KX415M9GRY4X1WK91QEZ2ZR0

The bell over the bakery door gave a cheerful jingle, though the rain outside had turned Main Street into a ribbon of gray glass. Cinnamon and warm butter softened the air. “You’re early.” “I couldn’t sleep.” “That usually means trouble. Or my cardamom buns.” “Both, I’m afraid.” A tray clattered softly in the kitchen. On the counter between the lemon tarts and the sourdough loaves lay a silver locket, its chain tangled in a dusting of flour. “You found it?” “Under table three. Right where Mayor Bellamy was sitting before he stormed out.” “Mayor Bellamy doesn’t storm. He huffs.” “He was huffing when he left the council meeting, too. Then this morning, he’s nowhere to be found.” The espresso machine sighed. “Maybe he went fishing.” “In a thunderstorm?” “He’s a stubborn man.” “He also never goes anywhere without that locket. His wife gave it to him.” A gust rattled the windowpanes. Across the street, the mayor’s black sedan sat crooked beside the curb, one windshield wiper frozen halfway across the glass. “Is that his car?” “It’s been there since dawn.” “And the bakery was locked until six.” Floury fingers nudged the locket open. Inside was a tiny photograph—and a smear of dark red on the hinge. “That isn’t raspberry jam, is it?” “No.” The bell over the door jingled again. “Morning. Has anyone seen the mayor?”