Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TAR637QZ22QK057VKZ0QDH

The morning rush at Buttercrumb Bakery had thinned to a drizzle. Rain freckled the windows, and the last of the cinnamon rolls sat cooling on the rack. "You heard about Harold Pemberton, didn't you?" "Found dead in his own orchard. Terrible thing." "Terrible? He tried to shut this place down over a noise complaint." "Keep your voice down. People talk." "People are already talking. They say he'd eaten one of our almond croissants that very morning." "Our croissants didn't kill him. The coroner said it was his heart." "The coroner said that yesterday. Today he's singing a different tune." A tray clattered softly against the counter. Outside, a figure hurried past beneath a black umbrella. "What do you mean, different?" "I mean Nancy at the post office saw Harold arguing with someone behind the church. An hour before he died." "Who?" "She never saw the face. But she saw the car. Blue pickup, rust on the fender." Silence, save for the hum of the refrigerator. "That's Frank's truck." "That's exactly what I didn't want to say." "Frank wouldn't hurt a fly. He wept when his sourdough starter died." "Then why is he scrubbing that truck clean right now, in the pouring rain?" The oven timer chimed. Neither of them moved.