Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KCHTC4FRMS6NSN4SQRYD6F

The scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar hung in the air. Two cups of tea cooled on the counter beside a half-eaten marionberry scone. “You’ve checked the ledger twice, then?” “Three times. The numbers don’t move, but the flour sack does.” “Flour doesn’t walk on its own.” “No. But Bertie was here late last night. Said he needed extra time with the wedding cake.” “Bertie? The man frosts like he’s icing a fence post.” “Exactly. And yet this morning the fondant was flawless.” “Maybe he finally took a class.” “Or maybe he wasn’t alone. I found a purple thread snagged on the walk-in handle.” “Mabel’s knitting group meets at the library on Wednesdays.” “Not the library. They were here last week. Lavender yarn. She left a ball by the register.” “Could be coincidence.” “In this town?” “Fair point. So Bertie’s sudden skill and Mabel’s lavender. What’s the connection?” “Follow the sugar. Someone’s been copying my grandmother’s stolen recipe book.” “The one that vanished after the church potluck?” “That’s the one. And whoever has it is practicing. Badly.” “Badly enough to leave flour footprints?” “Size nine. And they lead to the back alley.” “Then we’d better follow before the rain washes them away.”