Run: 2026-09-23-01M36NXFZB4GS6YH65HSARDXTJ

The bell above the bakery door gave a sleepy jingle as rain swept in behind a woman clutching a red umbrella. “You’re dripping on the evidence.” “I’m dripping on your floor, which is already covered in flour.” “Exactly. The footprints will be useless.” The woman folded her umbrella. “You said the missing recipe card was evidence.” “It was tucked beneath the display case at closing. This morning, it was gone—and so was the almond tart.” “Perhaps someone took the tart and the recipe.” “Everyone in Bellwether knows my aunt’s recipe. They just don’t know she adds orange peel.” A tray clattered in the kitchen. Both women turned toward the swinging door. “Is that your assistant?” “Unless the oven has learned to drop pans.” The door swung open, and a floury hand appeared, holding up a small silver key. “Found this in the tart tin.” The umbrella woman glanced at the key. “That opens the old cashbox, doesn’t it?” “It should. But the cashbox is in the town hall.” “And the recipe card?” A pause. “Was in the cashbox.” Rain tapped the windows. The baker reached for her coat. “Don’t tell me we’re going to town hall.” “Not in this weather.” “Good.” “We’re taking the bus. It stops right outside.”