Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KXYDQZS1WSTQKA80CVVCFP

The Sweetbriar Bakery smelled of yeast and rain. Sunlight pooled on the checkerboard floor, and the scent of cardamom buns curled through the warm air. Only two women remained at the counter, the last of the morning rush, while outside the town clock struck ten. “You’re certain the recipe box was locked last night?” “Positive. I latched it myself before sweeping.” “Then how did a stranger know to ask for Marla’s peach chutney?” A drawer slid open. Paper rustled. “Look at this. Mud on the sill, same as by the contest tent.” “Someone was here after closing.” “And took the only copy of Marla’s recipe.” “Which means the judge’s sudden stomachache this morning wasn’t bad clam chowder.” “No. Someone wanted her out of the competition.” “Do you think the new antique dealer is involved?” “He’s been asking too many questions about the judging panel.” “And he arrived the same week the trophy went missing.” “Then we pay him a visit. But first, find out who had a key to the back door.” “I’ll ask Mrs. Pemberly. She unlocks the Sunday school rooms.” “Careful. Whoever did this might still be watching.” “Let them watch. I’ve got a rolling pin and a very sharp memory.” The coffee pot gurgled. One of them reached for a cinnamon roll, eyes narrowing.