Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TC3MSCCSD48S1HFH2A6J1Z

The bell above the bakery door jingled as the morning rush thinned to a hush. "You heard about Mayor Pemberton?" "Dead in his garden, they say. Face down in the petunias." "And do you know what they found beside him?" "A teacup?" "A cruller. One of mine." "That's impossible. He hasn't set foot in here since the pie contest scandal." "Exactly. So who bought it for him?" "Everyone buys your crullers, Hazel. Half the town was at the Founders' Day breakfast." "Half the town didn't argue with him about the bakery lease last week. In public. Loudly." "Oh, dear." "'Oh, dear' is right. Detective Marlowe will be here by noon, asking questions." "Then we'd best have answers. Who else knew about his heart condition?" "His doctor. His wife. And... the new florist." "The one who sold him those petunias?" "The very same. She ordered a dozen crullers on Tuesday. Paid cash." "Well. That's interesting." "Interesting? It's practically a confession with frosting on it." "Should we call the detective?" "First, we bake. Nobody thinks clearly on an empty stomach. Then we pay a visit to the flower shop." "With the cinnamon rolls?" "With the cinnamon rolls. Nobody lies to me over warm cinnamon rolls."