Run: 2026-09-23-01M36NNPN5SQPFZWF27QR7D750

The bell above the bakery door gave a timid jingle as rain swept in behind a woman in a red coat. “You’re soaked through. Come stand by the oven.” “I’m afraid I’ve brought the weather with me. And possibly trouble.” “Trouble doesn’t usually smell like cinnamon.” “It might if it’s been hiding in a spice tin. Look what I found behind the flour sacks.” A brass key lay on the counter, tangled in a strip of blue ribbon. “That’s the key to the old clock tower. I saw it on the mayor’s desk yesterday.” “Then the mayor misplaced it.” “Or someone wanted us to find it.” The baker glanced toward the front window. Across the square, the clock tower stood dark beneath the low clouds. Its hands had stopped at 3:17. “You think the theft happened there?” “I think the mayor’s been telling everyone the tower is locked.” “And?” “And I heard it chime at midnight.” The baker set down the tray of honey buns. “You heard a clock with no key.” “I heard something. Then I saw a lantern moving behind the tower windows.” A gust rattled the glass. The bell above the door jingled again, though no one had entered. “Perhaps we should call the sheriff.” “Perhaps we should ask the mayor why he’s afraid of a clock.” The baker wrapped two buns in paper. “We’ll need something warm for the walk.” “And something sweet, in case he lies.”