Run: 2026-10-09-01M4FXHCZ2J67TKJFBH1ZMT658

“You're late,” Marjorie said, not looking up from the flour-dusted counter. “The power went out on Maple Street. Half the town's stuck in their driveways.” The bell above the door jingled as the girl slipped inside, shaking rain from a yellow raincoat. “Did you save me a cinnamon roll?” “I saved you the burnt one. The good ones sold out at six.” “Marjorie, you're a terrible liar.” “And you're a terrible customer.” A pause, the rustle of paper. “Take a look at this, though. Found it tucked inside the sourdough bin this morning.” “A note?” “Read it.” A long silence. The oven timer ticked. “'The recipe is in the wrong hands. Stop baking, or the next batch will be poisoned.' That's not funny.” “Did I say it was funny?” “Who would do this?” “Someone who knows the sourdough starter came from Edna's kitchen. Someone who was at the funeral yesterday.” “You think it's Harold.” “I think Harold has been asking an awful lot of questions about his aunt's will.” “Then we start with Harold.” Another jingle of the bell. “But first, hand over that burnt roll. If I'm going to solve a murder, I need sugar.”