Run: 2026-09-29-01M3P2CCXKT6E2DWS7EF1J6ZPS

The bell above the door jingled, and the smell of cinnamon rolled out to meet the rain. "You're late. The scones are already half gone." "Blame the constable. He stopped me outside the hardware store to ask where I was Tuesday night." "And what did you say?" "That I was here, helping you knead the rye until midnight." "Which you were. Though I don't recall you leaving with flour on *both* sleeves." "Meaning what?" "Meaning, dear, that Mr. Pemberton's cellar door was dusted white this morning. Same flour. Same fine mill from the Hendricks farm." A pause. The clink of a spoon against a saucer. "Half the town buys that flour." "Half the town didn't have a key to his cellar." "Neither did I." "Then why is there a key hanging on the hook behind your apron, tagged in Pemberton's handwriting?" "Oh, for heaven's sake. Put down the rolling pin." "I'm merely holding it." "You're holding it like a cudgel." "Sit. Eat a scone. Then tell me why Pemberton gave you his cellar key, and why he'd hidden the missing ledger down there." A long sigh. "Butter first. This will take a while." "I've got all afternoon. And the kettle's just boiled."