Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KRY9SN5Z0WAP6QR3F97P65

The scent of warm cardamom and roasted pecans hung thick in the air, wrapping around the shop like a wool scarf. Outside, autumn rain tapped rhythmically against the bakery's bay window. "Three inches of royal icing won’t hide the fact that you’re nervous." A puff of powdered sugar rose into the morning light as a piping bag was squeezed with unnecessary vigor. "I am not nervous. I am precise. There is a distinct difference." "Precise people don’t usually pipe 'Happy Birthday' onto a condolence cake." A sharp sigh, followed by the hasty scrape of an offset spatula. "It was a slip. The sheriff was in here at dawn, asking questions about the sourdough deliveries." "Did he find anything?" "Only that my crusts are criminally flaky. But he did mention the tire tracks behind the old mill." "The ones near the ravine where Mayor Higgins lost his briefcase?" "The very same. Deep treads. Delivery van treads." A tarnished brass key was slid across the flour-dusted marble counter, coming to rest beside a tray of cooling bear claws. "Just like the ones on the van parked in back?" "Precisely. Now, pass the nutmeg and pretend we’re only gossiping about the harvest festival."