Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCQSXNHFNMP3R72VY5547CR

The bell over the door jangled, and the smell of warm cardamom rolled out to meet the cold. "You're early. I haven't even got the second tray out." "I didn't come for buns." "You always come for buns." "Fine. One bun. But that's not why I'm here." A pause, the scrape of a stool. "Margaret Ellery was in yesterday, wasn't she? Around four." "Half past three. Bought a lemon tart, complained about the price, same as always." "Was she alone?" "She was, and then she wasn't. A man came in after her—tall, gray raincoat, city shoes. He didn't order anything. Just stood by the window rack pretending to read the notice board." "Did they speak?" "Not a word. But she went very still, the way a cat does. Then she left her tart on the table and walked out. Left it right there, boxed and paid for." "Margaret Ellery never left food behind in her life." "That's what I said to the cat." "And the man?" "Followed her out about a minute later. Didn't take the notices with him, though he'd been staring at them long enough to memorize the lot." "Which notices?" "Choir practice. Lost spaniel. And the auction at Wintergreen Farm." "Give me two buns."