Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD5ZJTQGC54WKJ6KE46X4NM

The bell above the Sugar Mill Bakery door jingled, though the shop had been closed for an hour. Flour still hung in the warm air like snow that never landed. "You locked that door, didn't you?" "I thought you did." "Well, someone didn't, and now we're both standing here like thieves." "Speak for yourself. I have keys. I'm allowed to bake at midnight." "At midnight? For what, the early-bird ghost crowd?" "For the Henderson wedding. Two hundred lemon tarts by seven a.m., and somebody already ate half of one and left it on the counter." "Ate it?" "One bite. Clean little bite. And there's a crumb trail leading toward the pantry." "You're joking." "Am I the joking type, Mabel? Look. There. Behind the flour sacks." "Oh. Oh, for heaven's sake." "What is it?" "A cat. A great fat tabby with lemon curd on his whiskers." "That's not just any cat. That's Mayor Pemberton's cat. He's been missing since Tuesday." "Reward's fifty dollars." "Then our little tart thief just paid for his dinner. Hand me that crate—and the good treats, not the day-olds." "You're feeding him more?" "I'm keeping him happy until morning. And then, my dear, we're having a word with the mayor. I've always wondered who poisoned his secretary's prize roses last spring, and cats, they say, have a way of knowing things."