Run: 2026-09-23-01M37HCT4J873758C48KA59MHE

The bell above the bakery door gave its usual tired jingle. Outside, rain silvered the cobblestones of Bellwether’s square; inside, cinnamon rolls cooled beside a vase of late lilacs. “You’re early. The book club doesn’t meet until six.” “I didn’t come for cake.” “That’s a sentence I never expected to hear in my bakery.” “Someone left this in the library return slot.” A brass key lay on the flour-dusted counter. Its tag read *Pantry*, in looping blue ink. “That’s mine. I lost it yesterday.” “After you locked up?” “I thought so. Why?” “The slot’s too narrow for the key. Whoever returned it had to open the back panel.” “Only the librarian has a key to that.” “And the caretaker. But he’s been in Briarford since Tuesday.” The oven clicked as it cooled. Beyond the window, the town clock struck five. “Nothing’s missing from the pantry. I checked this morning.” “What about the jar above the flour bins?” A pause followed, long enough for a drip of rain to slip from the awning. “How did you know about that jar?” “Your grandmother told me where she kept her prize-winning recipe. She also told me to look after it.” “The jar was open.” “Then we’d better see whether the recipe’s still there.”