Run: 2026-11-11-01M75QGHTYGMXBGQ7YWJ364VGE

The bell above the door of The Buttered Crumb jingled, letting in a draft of crisp autumn air that mingled with the comforting aroma of warm cinnamon and yeast. Behind fogged display cases, rows of glazed éclairs and blueberry muffins gleamed under soft yellow lights. In the corner booth, beneath a framed cross-stitch of a smiling teapot, two steaming mugs sat flanking a plate of untouched pastries. "Try the cherry danish. It’s practically a sin." "Considering Arthur dropped dead right after eating one yesterday, I’ll stick to black coffee." "The sheriff says it was a massive coronary." "The sheriff couldn't find a donut hole in a dozen glazed. Did you happen to smell Arthur’s plate before the paramedics cleared the table?" "Bitter almonds. Stronger than the cherry filling." "Exactly. And Mrs. Higgins hasn’t baked with almond extract since the mayor’s allergic reaction at the Founder's Day picnic." "So someone slipped something extra into his morning treat?" "Right under everyone's noses. Whoever iced Arthur knew he always sat by the gingham curtains at eight sharp." "Keep your voice down. The kitchen doors just swung open, and that rolling pin looks awfully heavy."