Run: 2026-10-09-01M4G0S80T5Z93NJN4VD4JQ67A

"You're late," Marjorie said, not looking up from the flour-dusted counter. "The bus broke down past the quarry. Smelled like burnt oil the whole way." The bell above the door chimed again as it swung shut. "Is that cinnamon I smell, or did someone finally open the wrong jar?" "Cinnamon. Third batch today. Sit before you fall over." "I don't have time to sit. Did you hear about Walt Brennan?" "Everyone's heard. Police tape on the back steps of the hardware store before the sun was even up." "That's not what I heard. Mrs. Patterson swears she saw his truck parked behind the bakery Tuesday night." "Mrs. Patterson also swears the moon landing was staged in Ohio." "She's never been wrong about a parked truck." A tray clattered somewhere in the back. Marjorie wiped her hands slowly on her apron, then finally met the other's eyes. "Then maybe you should tell me why your coat is still buttoned, and why there's a key in your fist." "Because I found it on the floor by the proofing racks. And it isn't ours."