Run: 2026-09-03-01M1M1QNJBQKPW4QF61BP56SXB

The bell above the door gave a cheerful jingle. Warm air, thick with yeast and browned butter, wrapped around the quiet morning. Sunlight striped the worn wooden floor, and a case of glazed pastries glistened near the register. “You’re here early. The cinnamon rolls aren’t even out of the oven.” “I’m not here for cinnamon rolls. I’m here about the judging table.” “The what?” “Someone switched your award-winning blueberry pie with a supermarket one. The head judge noticed before the ribbon was pinned.” “That’s ridiculous. My pie sat right there, beneath the lace cloth, exactly where I left it.” “It was there. Then it wasn’t. And now the mayor’s assistant is telling everyone your filling was too runny.” “Too runny? My filling is never runny. Who would do such a thing?” “That’s exactly what we’re going to find out. Start by telling me who had access to the kitchen before the fair.” “Only Martha, my neighbor of thirty years. She borrowed my rolling pin and returned it polished.” “Neighbor or not, somebody wanted that blue ribbon. And I intend to sift the truth out of this town, one crumb at a time.” A pan clattered somewhere in the back, and the scent of scorched sugar drifted through the warm room.