Run: 2026-09-23-01M37HESQHCAXDT2WX663C9MQP

By seven, the windows of Bellwether Bakery had fogged over, hiding the rain and most of the town square. Mara arranged currant buns beneath the glass. Across the counter, Theo set down a blue tin. “Found this behind the flour sacks.” “That’s Mrs. Wren’s biscuit tin. She said it vanished Tuesday.” “She also said someone stole her prizewinning saffron recipe.” Inside the tin lay a sugar-dusted button and a folded scrap of paper. Mara opened the scrap. It was a receipt from the mill, dated the morning the tin had disappeared. “Why would Mrs. Wren have this?” “She wouldn’t. She buys her flour here.” Outside, the church clock struck seven. Mara glanced toward the back door. A streak of the mill’s blue packing dye marked the latch. Yesterday, the miller had delivered flour they hadn’t ordered, then hurried away without waiting for a signature. “The miller took the recipe?” “Maybe. But look at the button.” Mara held it to the light. A tiny crown gleamed on its face. “The mayor’s coat.” “He’s judging Saturday’s baking contest.” “And Mrs. Wren always wins.” The oven bell chimed. Mara slid out a tray of warm buns and set two on a plate. “If we ask him directly, he’ll deny everything.” “Then we won’t ask. He never misses breakfast.”