Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD5W4A1JZTEV7Z4ZX86N0RT

The morning rush at Butter & Crumb had thinned to a whisper of rain against the windows and the low hum of the ovens. A tray of blueberry scones cooled beside a cash register that still bore yesterday’s lavender fingerprint powder. “You’re telling me the vicar ate one of these and then keeled over in the parish hall?” “Half of one. He said the almond glaze tasted funny.” “Almond glaze doesn’t taste funny unless someone makes it funny.” “Or unless someone swapped the extract for something from the gardening shed.” “Don’t say that so loud. Norma’s by the flour bins pretending not to listen.” “Norma pretends so hard she aches.” “Did you see the note in the donation tin?” “The one folded into a paper swan? Smelled like pipe smoke.” “And marzipan.” “Nobody in this town smokes a pipe anymore.” “Somebody does. Somebody who knew the vicar always took the corner scone.” “Then why move the tin behind the counter?” “Because the killer wanted us to find it after the ambulance left.” “Or before we sold the rest.” A timer dinged. Neither of them moved toward the ovens. “Check the glaze bottle.” “I already did. It’s clean.” “Then check Norma’s pockets.”