Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KS4PCSHG4Z99VTVRAEE8PH

The bell over the door at Miller's Bakery jingled as the morning light slanted across the flour-dusted counter. "You're early." "Couldn't sleep. The blueberry pie was gone by seven." "Gone? I put it in the back window myself." "Then why is there just a plate with crumbs and a fork?" "Maybe Mrs. Hargrove took it for the bridge club. She called about it yesterday." "Mrs. Hargrove called at six this morning from the hospital. Her hip is acting up. She's not leaving that bed." The baker wiped her hands on her apron and lifted the plastic dome from the last tray of cinnamon rolls. "Well, someone had a sweet tooth." "Someone with gloves. Look." A faint smudge of dark powder dusted the edge of the pie plate, and a single black hair was caught on the fork tines. "That's not from our kitchen." "No. And that's not our fork either. That's the good silver." "So we have a thief who knows about silverware." "And who knows you put the blueberry pie in the back window." The bell jingled again as the door opened, letting in a gust of cold air and a customer with wet shoes.