Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCR8N1P6FDVFXJZ7X3SVHQX

The bell over the door gave its tired little jangle, and the smell of cardamom buns rushed out to meet the cold. "You're early. I haven't even got the second batch in." "I'm not here for buns." "Everyone's here for buns, Marjorie. That's the whole business model." "I'm here because Delia Prentiss told me you found something in the flour bin." A long pause. Somewhere in the back, a timer ticked. "Delia Prentiss ought to spend less time in my kitchen and more time in her own." "So it's true." "It was a key. Brass, small, with a bit of blue string on it. Sitting right on top of the flour like someone dropped it in a hurry." "Whose?" "How on earth would I know? I don't go about matching keys to people like a cobbler with shoes." "You'd know if it opened the church hall cupboard." "Now why would you say a thing like that?" "Because that's where Harold's ledger was kept. Before it wasn't." Another pause, longer. A scrape of a chair being pulled out. "Sit down. I'll put the kettle on, and you'll have a bun whether you want one or not." "I only ever want one." "I know. That's why I already wrapped it."