Run: 2026-10-13-01M4V204FCM6ZCMHW935VM3DEQ

The bell above the door of *The Rolling Pin* chimed, letting in a draft of crisp autumn air that mingled with the warm scents of cinnamon and yeast. Morning sunlight glinted off the glass display case, illuminating rows of glazed scones and powdered danishes. Behind the counter, a cloud of flour hung in the air, settling over a fresh batch of sourdough. "You're out of the maple bear claws." "Arthur bought the last half-dozen at six this morning. You know how he gets before a town council meeting." "He’s not going to make it to the meeting. That’s why I’m here. And why I need caffeine." "Don't tell me his gout is acting up again." "Worse. Somebody fished him out of the cranberry bog twenty minutes ago. Stone dead, clutching a half-eaten bear claw." "Good grief. Was it his heart?" "Not unless a heart attack ties a prized ribbon from the Autumn Bake-Off around a man's neck. A first-place blue ribbon, to be exact." "Wait a minute. My pumpkin chiffon won first place last night." "I know. And the Sheriff is currently walking up your front steps." "Here, take this apron. Tell him I went to the mill for rye flour."