Run: 2026-09-01-01M1EPEDNHN61T5FPB7JYHCGWF

Morning light filtered through the bakery's front window, casting golden rectangles over the marble counter. The scent of yeast and burnt sugar filled the air, mingling with lavender from a jar near the register. "I've come about the scones." "You've come about the knife." "The knife is for bread." "The knife carved a warning into yesterday's wedding cake." "Then someone wants the recipes." "Someone wants them buried." The jar of lavender sugar slid across the counter. "Check the storage room." "You already checked it?" "The old ledger is there. The initials match yours." "My initials are on the deed, not the poison." "The poison was in the frosting. You taste it." "We should call the sheriff." "We should finish the croissant first." "Why?" "Because murder is best solved with butter, and your boots are tracking snow across my floor." A cup was set down, cream swirling. "I need answers, not pastries." "You need proof. The proof is rising." "Who else knew about the cyanide?" "The whole town. But only you and I care about the secret ingredient." "The one that killed Mr. Alden?" "No. The one that kept him alive." The bell above the door chimed as wind pushed through. "Then let's bake." "Exactly. If the killer wants to stop us, they'll have to stop the oven." The oven hummed, warm and forgiving, holding its secrets in flour and fire.