Run: 2026-09-23-01M37HZQRED8JRMY1G3D6X5B1P

By nine, the ovens at Buttercup Bakery had warmed the front window, blurring the view of the town square. Mabel set two currant buns on a plate and nudged one toward the flour-dusted figure across the counter. “The mayor says you were the last person to see his silver bell.” “The mayor says that whenever he misplaces something.” “He also says you refused to bake his anniversary cake.” “His anniversary is in August.” Mabel broke her bun in half. A scrap of blue ribbon peeked from beneath the plate. She drew it free. Stitched along its edge were three tiny gold bees. “That was tied around the bell yesterday.” “I found it snagged on the back-door latch this morning.” “Why didn’t you tell Constable Reed?” “He was busy questioning the choir. I thought I’d wait until I had something worth telling him.” The bell had vanished during last night’s charity supper. Every shopkeeper had taken a turn carrying it through the hall, inviting donations for the new library shelves. Mabel held the ribbon to the light. A few grains of coarse sugar glittered in the stitching. “You don’t use sugar like this.” “No. But the market stall does, on those dreadful pink biscuits.” “The mayor bought three bags.” “Then perhaps we should ask what he carried home besides biscuits.” Outside, the mayor hurried past the window, his coat pocket chiming softly.