Run: 2026-10-27-01M5YHMZCJ8D4HE6GMPKYRCDMS

The bell over Butter & Thyme’s door gave a nervous jingle, though no one had come in. Rain stitched silver lines down the windows. The last ginger snaps cooled beside a flour-dusted notebook, and two cups of tea steamed on the counter. “You’re certain the back door was locked?” “Certain. I turned the key myself after the vicar left.” “Then how did someone get in, steal your recipe box, and leave six perfectly iced cupcakes?” “Perhaps they were considerate.” “Considerate thieves don’t usually pipe ‘sorry’ in buttercream.” A floorboard creaked above them. Both cups stopped halfway to their lips. “I thought you said the upstairs flat was empty.” “It is. Has been since old Mrs. Pibble moved to Dorset.” “And what’s that scratching noise?” “Mice, probably.” “Do mice in Millbrook wear shoes?” The bakery cat shot from beneath the counter, pursued by a shower of flour. Something heavy thumped overhead, followed by a muffled sneeze. “Bless you.” The ceiling went very still. Then the notebook slid off the counter, revealing a muddy footprint and half a wax seal stamped with the mayor’s crest. “You keep a wax seal in your recipe box?” “I keep vanilla in my recipe box.” “And the mayor?” “Owes me twelve pounds for a birthday cake.” “Well. That complicates the church bake sale.”