Run: 2026-09-10-01M25DZAW49D4GKTXB5TMNBA98

The bell above the door chimed, but no one came in. Cinnamon, yeast, and burnt sugar wrapped around the empty tables. Behind the glass case, bear claws sat beside lemon bars and a single lavender scone with a paper tag that read For Prudence. “Did you hear about the missing ledger?” “Missing, or borrowed by someone who didn’t want anyone counting the flour deliveries?” “That’s oddly specific.” “Oddly specific is my specialty before the second cup.” “Then you’ll love this. The back door was unlocked.” “Was it now?” “And a trail of powdered sugar led into the alley.” “Powdered sugar isn’t a clue. It’s a Tuesday.” “Not when it’s blue.” “Blue?” “Blue as the ink in the mayor’s fountain pen.” “You think the mayor stole a ledger over flour?” “I think someone wants us to think the mayor stole it.” “Us?” “Anyone who buys crullers before nine.” “Then we’d better buy two. And ask about the scone.” “The one labeled for Prudence?” “Prudence has been dead for six years.” “Exactly.” The oven timer dinged somewhere in back. Neither of them moved. “Should we tell Sheriff?” “Only if he orders a maple bar.” “Then we’ll wait.” “Good. I hate rushing a mystery.”