Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD5VBE488XBX45N8X5QB218

The bell above Honeycomb Bakery jingled at seven sharp, though the air inside smelled like smoke, not sugar. "The morning buns are ruined. Again." "That's the third time this week. You think it's that temperamental new oven?" "The oven doesn't swap my sugar for salt. Someone's been in my kitchen after hours." "Could it be Milo? He was still fuming about losing the blueberry pie contest." "Milo couldn't tell a sourdough starter from his left boot. No, this feels personal. Like the garden gnome incident last spring." "Did you check the back door camera?" "Unplugged. And there were flour footprints by the pantry. Size seven, pointy-toed boots. Only one person in Bramblewood wears those year-round, even in July." "Oh no. Not her." "She called my croissants 'aggressively French' at the town meeting. Of course it's her." "We need actual proof before you accuse the mayor's wife of bakery sabotage." "Then you'll help me? Tonight, we stake out the bakery." "Bring coffee?" "Bring the extra-sticky cinnamon rolls. If I'm right, she won't be able to resist leaving fingerprints in the glaze."