Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KRBXEP3R1MNAGY76YDBQB4

The little brass bell over the door chimed softly as the morning rush subsided, leaving behind the comforting haze of warm vanilla, yeast, and roasted pecans. Powdered sugar dusted the marble counter like freshly fallen snow. "Did you hear about Arthur?" "Everyone on Elm Street heard. It’s hard to miss four patrol cars parked outside the manor at dawn." "They’re saying it wasn’t his heart after all." The heavy wooden rolling pin paused mid-stroke. "Don't start rumors. Dr. Evans signed the certificate hours ago." "Evans didn't look in the parlor trash can. Martha saw the deputies bagging yesterday’s pastries for evidence." "My pastries?" "The raspberry turnovers. Arthur bought a box right before closing." The rolling pin resumed, though far more rigid and unsteady against the pie crust. "That's absurd. I used the standard almond glaze from the pantry." "The new bottle? The one that arrived without a label?" "It was sealed." "Well, someone broke that seal. And cyanide smells remarkably like bitter almond, wouldn't you say?" A chilling hush fell over the cooling racks, colder than the autumn wind rattling the bakery’s front window.