Run: 2026-09-01-01M1ENN6VETS9JY9K6SGTCVBXN

The bell above the door jangled, releasing a gust of autumn air and wet pine. "You stayed past closing again." "I was trying to prove you have a second flour sifter." "I have one sifter and one life, and a health inspector due by ten." A tin tray clattered against the marble counter. The baker wiped her hands across her apron, leaving a streak of cinnamon. "Then stop tracking mud everywhere and tell me why you really came." "I want a croissant." "You want answers." The customer leaned in, lowering his voice. "The coroner's report mentioned almond extract. The same bottle that sits on your top shelf." She turned slowly, eyes narrowing. "Are you accusing me of something?" "I'm asking if the bottle on your shelf matches the one from Mrs. Halloway's kitchen." "Why would her extract be here?" "Because someone swapped them. And because you were the last person seen at her door yesterday morning." She reached for a knife, clicking it against the cutting board with deliberate precision. "I was delivering a dozen blueberry scones." "Your receipt timestamp says seven-thirty. The neighbor says you left at eight-fifteen." "I stay late because people like you keep circling back." The blade paused above a brioche. "If you think I poisoned anyone, check my gloves. They're still clean." "Then why does your apron smell like bitter almonds?" She stared at him, flour dust settling between them like snow. "Because I use them in everything, Jude. Just like everyone else in this town." "That doesn't mean you didn't know the difference." A scone rose in the oven behind her, golden and innocent, and for a moment the only sound was the hiss of steam. "Buy something, detective. Or leave me with my guilt and my pastries."