Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCWWEG2FPCXKF1S5Y4Y7MTJ

The bell above the door chimed, letting in the smell of rain and warm yeast. Behind the glass counter, rows of golden croissants gleamed like little secrets. "Did you notice the glaze on Mr. Pemberton's shoes?" "Thick lemon icing. Almost theatrical." "He claimed he hadn't been near the bakery since Tuesday." "The memorial service was Wednesday." "Exactly. So he tracked sweetness into the church vestibule." "Or he came back after. You know he hovers near the almond croissants." "He was asking about them with that nervous laugh." "While standing in a puddle of raspberry filling by the back door." "Maybe he just has poor balance and a sweet tooth." "Maybe. But why lie about Tuesday?" "People lie about ordinary days all the time." "Not when Tuesday was the night the register was emptied." "The register only holds petty cash and Mrs. Gable's nutmeg blend." "Don't underestimate that blend. It's worth more than the cash." "You're building a mystery out of pastry crumbs." "I'm following the crumbs. Look at this napkin—flour, raspberry, and a heel print." "That sounds like my Tuesday shift." "Then you're either very messy or very interesting." "Pass me the cinnamon roll. The one with extra icing." "You're eating the evidence." "I'm digesting it. There's a difference."