Run: 2026-10-05-01M46BKEM5ZF1G5EY16ZKJGW1N

By seven, the smell of cinnamon had reached every corner of Bellweather’s main street. Inside Crumb & Comfort, Nora set two mugs beside a tray of buns. Across the counter, Constable Pike studied the flour dusting his sleeve. “You’ve arrested my delivery boy.” “I’ve asked him some questions.” “With handcuffs?” “He tried to run.” “He’s seventeen. You appeared while he was holding a stolen éclair.” Pike nudged a sugar bowl away from a damp patch on the counter. “The mayor was found behind the bakery. Your boy was the last person seen arguing with him.” “Half the town argued with Herbert. The other half hadn’t finished breakfast.” Outside, the church clock struck seven. Nora’s eyes moved to the pink pastry box beside Pike’s mug. “Where did you find that?” “Beside the body.” She lifted the lid. One lemon tart remained, its custard marked by a neat crescent. “Herbert hated lemon.” “Perhaps it belonged to someone else.” “Someone with dentures.” Pike looked at her. “That’s rather specific.” “The Women’s Institute ordered twelve tarts yesterday. Mrs. Finch complained hers kept slipping.” “She’s eighty-three.” “And Herbert had threatened to sell her allotment.” Nora closed the box. “Have a bun. You’ll need something substantial before questioning her.”