Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCQQYQVZ36CKVSXA9JA0R8T

The bell over the door jangled, and the smell of cinnamon thickened as the oven cracked open. "You're early. The cardamom buns need another six minutes." "I didn't come for buns. I came because Harold Vance's van was parked behind your shop at four this morning." "Harold delivers my flour. Has for eleven years. Would you like me to have him arrested for punctuality?" "He doesn't deliver on Tuesdays." A long pause, filled only by the tick of the cooling rack settling. "You've been keeping a schedule of my flour deliveries." "I've been keeping a schedule of everything since the strongbox went missing from the church vestry. Somebody had a key, Margaret, and there are only four keys in this town." "And you assume the baker took it, because we're all so notoriously flush with cash." "I assume nothing. I'm asking." "Then ask better questions. Ask why Harold's van smelled like turpentine when he pulled in. Ask why he wouldn't come inside for coffee, and he always comes inside for coffee." "You noticed that." "I notice everything that happens before sunrise. It's the only company I've got." Another silence. Then the scrape of a stool. "Six minutes, you said?" "Sit down. I'll get the good cups."