Run: 2026-10-08-01M4DAEDDEDJBS2TVFTC0NC342

The bell above the door jingled, but neither of them looked up from the glass display case. "The lemon bars are gone," someone said. "All twelve. I counted them last night." "Maybe you miscounted." "I don't miscount. Not when it comes to butter and sugar." A tray clattered onto the counter. Flour drifted through the morning light like slow snow. "Could've been the Hendersons' boy. He's been hanging around since Easter." "He's nine. He can't reach the top shelf." "Then what do you suggest? That Ruth Abernathy's ghost finally developed a sweet tooth?" "I suggest you check the back door. The lock's been sticking since Tuesday." Footsteps crossed the worn linoleum. Old hinges groaned. "Well, would you look at that." "Crumbs. Yellow ones. And a trail leading straight into the alley." "So someone's been sneaking out the back." "Or sneaking in." The silence stretched long enough for the oven timer to tick down to zero. "Get your coat," came the reply. "And call the sheriff. Tell him we've got ourselves a case, and this time I want a real detective, not that nephew of his who thinks every crumb is a clue."