Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD4P7VGXE213W37VBYK514M

The bell above the door of Butterflake Bakery jingled as flour-dusted hands paused mid-knead. Morning light pooled across the counter, where a row of lemon scones sat untouched—unusual for a Tuesday. "You're early. The scones aren't even glazed yet." "I couldn't sleep. Did you hear about Mr. Abernathy?" "The notary? What about him?" "Found dead in his office last night. And guess what was sitting on his desk, right beside him." "Don't tell me—one of your blueberry muffins?" "One of *my* muffins, wrapped in my wax paper, with my little orange sticker. I never sold him a muffin in my life. He was allergic to blueberries!" "Then somebody wanted it to look like you did." "Exactly. And there's more. The oven in his office kitchen was still warm." "Who bakes at a notary's office at midnight?" "Someone who knew his schedule. Someone who knew about the will he was rewriting." "The Hartley estate?" "Shh. Walls have ears, and so do display cases." "Well then. Looks like you'll need an alibi and a lawyer." "I'll need a recipe first. Nothing clears the head for detecting like a good cinnamon roll." "Then roll up your sleeves, dear. We've got work to do."