Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD5S87FCZMNZNSR6XF8ZTQG

The bell over the Honeycomb Bakery jingled, stirring cinnamon and yeast in the cold morning air. A tray of apple cider donuts steamed behind the glass, fogging it just enough to hide Main Street. "You're early. I haven't even frosted the cinnamon rolls yet." "Couldn't sleep. Did you hear about Mabel's pumpkin pie? Vanished right off the windowsill during judging." "Third one this week. Someone in Bramblewood really hates fall. Or really loves pie." "The sheriff thinks it's kids. But Mabel swears she saw flour footprints leading back here." "Here? Oh, please. If I were stealing pies, I'd take the pecan, not pumpkin." "That's exactly what someone who steals pumpkin pies would say. Do you still have that spare key you gave to the mayor last spring?" "That key opens the back door, not the fair's bakery case. And it was returned months ago. Mostly." "Mostly?" A small pie tin was set on the counter with a soft thud. Inside, a single perfect crust crumb and a crumpled blue ribbon. "Well, whoever it is left this on your doorstep." "That's not Mabel's tin. That's mine. From last year." "The display case still smells like your investigation. And you're getting crumbs on my clean floor."