Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KXY52ZDBSJ01J6MWEHQN60

Warm cinnamon drifted through the tiny bakery, catching dust motes above the marble counter. The oven ticked, and a sheet pan cooled by the window. “Did you hear about Mayor Bell?” “The one who left the library board?” “Yes. His car was found near the old orchard.” “With no keys?” “Just an empty passenger seat and a croissant in the lap.” “A croissant?” “Almond, still warm. The officer said it was impossible, since the bakery opens at six.” “But Mrs. Pyle says she closed at nine.” “So does the register.” A bell above the door jingled, and two paper bags clattered onto the counter. “No more almond croissants today. Something is taking them.” “Taking them?” “Or leaving them where they should not be.” “Could the orchard have made the car stop?” “The brakes were fine. The radio was on, too.” “On what station?” “The classical one. The one only our regulars listen to.” A tray of scones trembled, though no wind stirred the window. “Then we need names,” “Before the next loaf is gone.” “Start with the last person who bought an almond croissant.” “Mrs. Calloway. But she died in spring.” “Then start with who paid for it.”