Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TAPHZFENC4J4FKECANVCQ2

The bell over the door of Buttercrust Bakery jingled as the morning rush settled into crumbs and coffee rings. "You're telling me Earl Grimsby ate three of my lavender scones the night he died?" "Two. He gave one to the dog." "Since when does a man with a deathly lavender allergy order lavender scones?" "Since never. That's the point." A tray of cinnamon rolls slid into the display case, glaze still shining. "So someone switched his usual order." "Or someone told him the blueberry ones were lavender." "The new girl at the counter started last Tuesday." "Mmm. And she writes the order slips in purple ink." "Everyone uses purple ink here. It's charming." "It's evidence." Outside, rain freckled the windows, and the ovens ticked as they cooled. "What are you doing with that scone?" "Bagging it. Carefully." "That's my breakfast." "That's your murder weapon, possibly." "...I suppose I'll have toast." "Smart. Now, who in Maple Hollow knew about the allergy?" "His ex-wife. The pharmacist. Half the church choir." "Then we'd better bake extra. This is going to be a long week."