Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD4SE8QR1D8SBG9ZNCHYYNC

The bell above the door of Buttercup Bakery chimed as Marjorie swept in, shaking rain from her umbrella. "You're here early." "Couldn't sleep. Not with the festival tomorrow and a hundred scones to glaze." The ovens hummed, filling the shop with the smell of cinnamon. "Besides, I found something odd in the flour delivery." "Odd how?" "This." A small brass key landed on the counter between them. "Tucked inside the fifty-pound bag from Miller's." "That's not a flour key, if there is such a thing." "It's a locker key. See the number? Eleven." A pause. "The old train station has lockers, doesn't it?" "Had. They boarded it up years ago." Marjorie turned the key over, and something flickered across her face. "Except—your supplier's warehouse sits on the old station lot, doesn't it?" "You knew that already?" "I know a great many things. It's my one talent besides judging pie contests." She pocketed the key. "Tell me, who signed for the delivery?" "Tom's boy. Why?" "Because Tom's boy was seen arguing with the miller on Tuesday. And now a key appears in your flour." "You're not suggesting—" "I'm suggesting you bake your scones, and I'll have a little chat with a delivery boy." Marjorie smiled sweetly. "Nothing pairs with gossip like a good glaze."