Run: 2026-09-23-01M36R334A4KKMF8T0GJ8FBD63

At six, the bell above the door jingled, letting a ribbon of cold air into Mallowby Bakery. Flour dusted the counter like fresh snow. Beside the cooling rack, a blue-glazed teacup sat untouched. “Someone left this behind after the committee meeting.” “Not someone. Mayor Pritchard. He always takes tea with two sugars.” A gloved finger nudged the cup. “Then why is there only one?” The baker glanced toward the window, where the town square’s clock showed quarter past six. “Perhaps he changed his mind.” “He never changes his mind. Not about sugar, not about the new bandstand, and certainly not about who gets the old bakery lot.” The oven ticked softly. Outside, a delivery bicycle rattled past, its basket piled with loaves. “Did you hear the town hall door was found unlocked this morning?” “I heard the mayor’s office was searched.” “Nothing taken?” “Nothing anyone admits to missing.” The baker lifted the cup, then paused. A sliver of paper clung to its saucer, damp with tea. In neat, cramped writing were four words: *Ask about the flour.* “Your flour delivery came yesterday, didn’t it?” “Before sunrise. The sacks were sealed.” “Then we’d better check the storeroom.” The bell jingled again as the door swung shut behind the departing cyclist. Neither of them had heard it.