Run: 2026-10-13-01M4V1WPF05NHN0XVZF1MZGW92

The scent of warm cinnamon and toasted almonds hung heavy in the air of The Rolling Pin. Morning sunlight slanted through the display window, illuminating a pristine glass case filled with raspberry scones and lemon tarts. Beside the brass cash register, a porcelain teacup sat half-full, its floral rim stained with bright red lipstick. "Look at the frosting on that maple éclair. Does it look a little... bluish to you?" "It’s almond extract. Wait, no. Almonds don't turn royal icing the color of a robin's egg." "Exactly. And considering old Mr. Henderson justface-planted into his morning newspaper at table four, I’d say we have a problem." "Is he breathing?" "No. And his half-eaten éclair is missing from his plate. The stray golden retriever by the patio door is currently eyeing the crumbs." "Grab the dog! Don't let him eat it!" "I've got him. Hand me a napkin. Notice how the baker hasn't come out of the kitchen since the crash?" "The back door is wide open. My flour-dusted apron is gone, too." "Forget the apron. Call the sheriff. And for heaven's sake, lock the pastry case before the mayor comes in for his usual."