Run: 2026-09-23-01M37PVPJ8YG9Z95QZMN893J86

The bell above the door jingled, letting in a gust of October wind and the smell of wet leaves. "You're open early." "I'm always open early. You're the one who's up before the roosters. That's the strange part." "Couldn't sleep. Did you hear about Harold Pim's prize pumpkin?" "Smashed to pulp on his porch steps. Half the town heard him hollering at dawn. Coffee?" "Please. And one of those maple scones, if they're still warm." "They're always warm. Here. Now, why are you really here?" "Because whoever smashed it left footprints. White ones, all the way across his porch." "Paint?" "Flour." "Well, don't look at me like that. I've been elbow-deep in dough since four o'clock." "I know. That's why I'm not asking whether you did it. I'm asking who else buys fifty-pound sacks from you." "Only two people. The church kitchen, and Marjorie Hale." "Marjorie? The same Marjorie who lost the harvest fair to Harold three years running?" "Four, if you count the zucchini scandal." "I'd forgotten the zucchini scandal." "Nobody in this town has forgotten the zucchini scandal." "Then I suppose we'd better pay her a visit." "Take a scone for her. Nobody confesses on an empty stomach."