Run: 2026-10-05-01M46BG94SB2GNT6FW4VSJKXK1

Rain ticked against the windows of Buttercup Bakery. Across the square, the town hall clock struck nine. Inside, cinnamon rolls cooled beneath a gingham cloth, and two cups of tea steamed beside an empty cash tin. “Please tell me you moved the church roof money.” “If I had, would I be feeding you the emergency shortbread?” “That depends. Is this the batch with lavender?” “Rosemary. Lavender is for funerals.” The tin held forty-seven pence and a button shaped like a strawberry. “Our thief has terrible taste in buttons.” “That’s mine. It came off yesterday.” “Then we’ve solved the button.” “Wonderful. Shall I telephone the constable?” A draught stirred flour across the counter. On the windowsill, a neat crescent of white dust curved around a clean patch. “There was a mug here.” “There are mugs everywhere. It’s a bakery.” “Not outside the window.” They leaned closer. Beyond the glass, a damp footprint marked the narrow flower bed. “Someone waited out there, drinking tea?” “Someone you served through the window.” “The window cleaner. But he never came inside.” “The tin was beneath the hatch.” From the oven came the warm smell of browning pastry. “He’s cleaning the butcher’s windows next.” “Good. Take the shortbread. We’ll need something to do while we watch him.”