Run: 2026-10-27-01M5YENTVMRNYRYJ72Y0TF8BJ0

By seven, the bakery windows had steamed over, and the smell of cinnamon rolls drifted onto the empty high street. The baker was sliding a tray into the oven when the constable arrived, brushing rain from his cap. “I’ve come about the missing Harvest Cup.” “If you’ve brought a search warrant, mind the shortbread.” “The display case was locked, but someone left flour on the latch.” “Half the town had flour on them after yesterday’s baking competition.” The constable examined the counter. A pale trail led past the cooling racks and ended at the pantry door. “Does half the town come in here before breakfast?” “Only on Fridays. Try the handle; it sticks.” Inside the pantry, a silver cup sat beneath a tea towel. One handle lay beside it, along with a folded note. “Well, that was easier than expected.” “Read the note before you get your handcuffs out.” “‘Sorry about the cup. The handle fell off when I was polishing it. I’ll fetch my soldering kit after breakfast. Martha.’” “Martha cleans the village hall. She must have borrowed your back-door key again.” “She’ll find it’s moved. I took it off the nail after she borrowed my wheelbarrow.” The oven bell rang. “Will you need me at the station?” “Not unless the shortbread’s ready.”