Run: 2026-09-10-01M25DK15DVWKA1KN6R1H75048

The bell above the bakery door chimed, and the smell of warm cinnamon and rising dough filled the small shop. Morning light caught the dusting of flour on the counter. "Two maple-glazed, please. And whatever you know about the missing pie contest recipe." "That's a lot to ask before eight a.m." "Mrs. Pemberton's kitchen was locked. Her recipe box was open. There's a smear of blueberry jam on the windowsill." "Blueberry jam? She was famous for hating blueberries." "Exactly. Someone wanted us to think she dropped it." "Or someone wanted to frame the jam maker." "Whoever it was left a trail of powdered sugar down Main Street." "Powdered sugar? That's from the doughnuts at the gas station." "Which closed at six last night. So the trail was made after." "Then we have until the lunch rush before the sheriff tramples it." "Save me a cruller. I'll grab my coat." "Take the back door. My oven timer's about to ding, and I don't want to burn the evidence." "Wait. If the trail starts here, the thief came through your bakery." "Then I'd better check the flour bin. Someone's been nibbling more than samples."