Run: 2026-09-23-01M36R541Z8TN705ZPDMN1416D

The bell above the door gave a cheerful jingle, though the rain outside had turned Main Street to gray ribbons. “Fresh cinnamon knots. A sensible person would take two.” “Are you offering one, or conducting a survey?” Mabel lifted the cooling rack from the counter. Flour dusted her sleeves, and a streak of raspberry jam brightened her cheek. “Depends. Did you find anything in the mayor’s office?” “Only a locked desk, three unpaid invoices, and this.” A brass key appeared between two fingers. Mabel’s smile faded. “That’s the key to the bakery cellar.” “Why would the mayor have it?” “Because he borrowed it last winter, when the pipes froze. He returned it.” “Did he?” The rain tapped at the windows. Behind them, the oven clicked softly as it cooled. Mabel set the rack down. One cinnamon knot was missing, though neither of them had touched it. “Someone’s been in here.” “Or someone’s hungry.” “Hungry people don’t leave wet footprints leading to the flour cupboard.” A narrow trail of muddy prints crossed the tiled floor. They stopped at the cupboard door, where a small white envelope rested against the baseboard. Mabel glanced toward the front window. “Should we open it?” “Not until we know who’s watching.” Outside, beneath the striped awning, a red umbrella tilted toward the glass.