Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD6VVCW5M3DVN7T3T4RYVEJ

The bell above the Sugarplum Bakery jingled even though the CLOSED sign was still flipped. Rain hammered Main Street, and the air was thick with cinnamon and butter. The big glass display case was empty except for a few lonely scones and a smear of berry filling. "You're early. And you're tracking mud on my freshly mopped floor again." "Got a situation. Mrs. Henderson's prize pie disappeared right off the cooling rack in the middle of the judging." "Not the triple-berry? She keeps that recipe locked up tighter than the bank vault." "Vanished between noon and twelve-fifteen. Only three people had access to the kitchen." "Don't look at me. I was elbow-deep in croissant dough all afternoon. That back door has been sticking something awful." "Funny thing about that door. Today it wasn't sticking. It was propped open with a ten-pound bag of flour. And there were footprints leading out." "Footprints? In this weather everyone has muddy boots." "Small boots. Size five. With little bows on the toes." "Like the ones the mayor's daughter was wearing when she swore she'd win the blue ribbon if it was the last thing she did?"