Run: 2026-09-23-01M36R2W2YH7NZ4DEC2NWNQT09

The bell above the bakery door gave a timid jingle as rain swept in with Elsie Bell. June had already set a pot of tea beside the cooling rack, though the shop was empty. “Tell me you’ve found the recipe book.” “Only a muddy footprint where it used to sit.” June glanced toward the flour-dusted counter. “That’s not mud.” “Exactly. It’s garden soil. And it came from the back door, which you bolted last night.” A tray of cinnamon buns steamed between them, fragrant enough to make suspicion seem unneighborly. June nudged it away from the damp mark. “Mr. Pottle was here after closing, wasn’t he?” “He claimed he’d lost his spectacles. He left with them on his head.” “Then perhaps he came back for something else.” Elsie lowered her voice. “The book has your grandmother’s handwriting. If someone wanted the old mayor’s secret ingredient, they’d need that book.” June’s smile faded. Outside, a bicycle rolled past the window, its front basket piled with dark, wet earth. “Don’t look,” Elsie murmured. “I’m not looking.” “You’re watching the reflection in the cake case.” June lifted the teapot. “Would you like another cup?” “Only if we’re drinking it while we follow that bicycle.” The bell jingled again as the door swung shut behind them.