Run: 2026-11-11-01M75PTEABBQ7ME7GRHWMVMHCM

The brass bell above the door of *The Flour Pot* chimed softly, letting in a crisp October breeze that mingled with the comforting scent of cinnamon, yeast, and browning butter. Morning sunlight spilled across the checkered floor, illuminating glass cases lined with plump blueberry scones and glossy chocolate éclairs. Yet, in the cramped kitchen behind the swinging doors, the atmosphere was anything but sweet. "Tell me you didn't sell any of the lemon tarts this morning." "Just a half-dozen. To Mayor Higgins, right after I flipped the sign to Open. Why? Did you mix up the salt and the powdered sugar again?" "I wish it were salt. Look at what I just pulled from the bottom of the flour bin." "Rat poison? Why on earth would that be in our pantry?" "It wasn't there when I locked up last night. And look at the latch on the alley window. The wood is splintered." "Wait a minute. Higgins hates lemon. He only buys fancy pastries when he's trying to sweet-talk the zoning committee." "Which meets at nine o'clock sharp." "It's eight-fifty-five." "Grab your keys. Leave the aprons." "What about the cinnamon rolls in the oven?" "Let them burn. If we don't reach Town Hall in four minutes, a ruined batch will be the absolute least of our problems."