Baker or Butcher

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Chapter 1: 

Sweet Beginnings

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The warm scent of freshly baked bread drifted through the quaint streets of Greywick, curling into every corner like a gentle hug. It came from The Golden Loaf, the town’s newest bakery, run by Luca Marini—a man with a flour-dusted apron, a disarming smile, and a knack for making the best sourdough anyone had ever tasted.

“Another batch of perfection,” Luca muttered, placing a tray of warm loaves on the counter. His dark curls bounced as he turned to the window, smiling at the crowd of townsfolk waiting outside.

“Luca! I hope you’ve got those scones ready!” called Mrs. Henderson, the town’s resident gossip, who stood first in line. “You promised me they’d be as good as the ones from London!”

“They’ll be better,” Luca assured her with a grin.

Across the street, Elias Gray, the butcher, was sharpening his cleaver in the window of Prime Cuts. His stern gaze scanned the bakery, then the street, landing on the cheerful crowd.

“Can’t believe people are losing their minds over bread,” Elias grumbled, the metallic scrape of his knife against the stone echoing. Malik, his assistant, looked up from a tray of sausages.

“You’re just jealous, boss. Nobody lines up for a good steak these days.” Malik smirked.

“Bread can’t feed a family like meat can,” Elias said firmly, his eyes narrowing as he watched Luca hand Mrs. Henderson a paper bag.

“Yeah, but bread doesn’t require a sharp cleaver,” Malik quipped. “Relax, man. You’ll pull in your usual crowd.”

Elias didn’t reply. Instead, he wiped his knife clean and glanced at the dim lamp in the corner.

“Something about that guy doesn’t sit right with me.”

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Chapter 2: 

The Midnight Mystery

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That evening, the townsfolk gathered at Joe’s Tavern, a cozy spot lit with dim lamps and bustling with chatter. Aaliya, the tavern’s bartender and unofficial town counselor, served drinks with a sharp wit and an even sharper eye for trouble.

“Did you hear?” Aaliya asked Jamal, her childhood friend, as she slid him a steaming cup of joe. “Mrs. Carlton said she saw someone lurking outside her garden last night. Said they were holding a torch.”

“Probably just some raccoon enthusiast,” Jamal said, taking a sip. “People love drama. Speaking of, how’s Luca doing with all his bread fame?”

“Busy. Half the town’s in love with him. The other half? Suspicious.”

Jamal chuckled. “Suspicious of a guy who bakes bread for a living? What’s next, accusing the florist of running a secret petal cult?”

Aaliya leaned in, lowering her voice. “Elias has been watching him. Glaring, mostly. It’s like he’s sizing him up for something.”

“Elias glares at everyone. It’s his resting butcher face.”

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Mrs. Henderson burst in, her usual cheerful demeanor replaced with frantic energy.

“There’s been a… a disturbance!” she cried.

Everyone turned to look.

“What kind of disturbance?” Aaliya asked, stepping out from behind the counter.

“At the park! There’s… there’s something strange on the picnic table. I think it’s blood!”

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Chapter 3: 

The Investigation Begins

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The group grabbed a few torches and followed Mrs. Henderson to the park. The lamps around the playground flickered as they approached, casting eerie shadows.

“There,” Mrs. Henderson said, pointing to a table in the middle of the field. On the weathered wood was a dark stain, still damp and glistening under the torchlight.

Aaliya squatted down, examining the mark. “It’s… definitely blood. But why here?”

“I told you someone was lurking,” Mrs. Carlton said, crossing her arms.

“Relax,” Jamal said. “Maybe it’s just an injured animal. Or someone dropped their steak dinner. Happens all the time.”

“That’s not a steak,” Elias said, emerging from the shadows, his cleaver hanging from his belt. “That’s fresh.”

“Do you carry that thing everywhere?” Jamal asked, raising an eyebrow.

Elias ignored him, leaning closer to the table. “This wasn’t an accident.”

“Who would spill blood here?” Aaliya asked.

Everyone fell silent. All eyes drifted toward The Golden Loaf.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking Luca,” Jamal said, shaking his head. “He’s too nice to hurt a fly.”

“Nice doesn’t mean innocent,” Elias said.

“And grumpy doesn’t mean guilty,” Jamal retorted.

Before anyone could reply, a faint rustling came from the bushes. Everyone froze.

“What was that?” Mrs. Henderson whispered, clutching Jamal’s arm.

“Probably the wind,” he said, though his grip on his torch tightened.

“Wind doesn’t sound like footsteps,” Aaliya muttered.

Another rustle. Then silence.

“Let’s head back,” Elias said, his tone unusually sharp.

Reluctantly, they turned toward the town, their torches lighting the path. But as they walked away, none of them noticed the faint outline of a handprint on the edge of the table, smeared in blood.

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Chapter 4: 

Bread Crumbs

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The next morning, Greywick woke to a chilling drizzle. The townsfolk murmured nervously as they passed The Golden Loaf, its bright windows casting an inviting glow that somehow felt eerie now. Inside, Luca hummed as he kneaded dough, oblivious to the eyes watching him through the glass.

“I’m telling you, he’s hiding something,” Elias muttered to Malik, who was leaning against the doorframe of Prime Cuts, munching on a sausage roll.

“You’ve been saying that since the day he moved here,” Malik replied. “You think everyone’s hiding something. Last week, you thought Mrs. Carlton was running a black-market jam operation.”

“That was different,” Elias said defensively. “Her pantry did smell suspiciously like elderberries.”

“Maybe he’s just a baker,” Malik said. “A baker who happens to be better at marketing than you are.”

Elias shot him a glare.

Across the street, Aaliya, Jamal, and Mrs. Henderson gathered at Joe’s Tavern, their usual meeting spot. Aaliya poured cups of joe for the group, her brow furrowed in thought.

“Alright,” she began, setting down her mug. “We need to figure this out. If someone’s lurking around the park and leaving bloodstains, it’s a problem.”

“Big problem,” Jamal said, stirring his joe. “Especially if it’s someone who knows how to knead dough and people.”

“Jamal!” Aaliya hissed, glancing at Mrs. Henderson, who looked faint.

“Sorry, just saying.”

Mrs. Henderson set her mug down with a trembling hand. “I’ve known Luca since he moved here. He’s sweet. Polite. Gives me extra biscotti for free! I just can’t believe he’d be involved in anything… sinister.”

“Sweetness doesn’t prove innocence,” Jamal said. “Tediousness, however, might. He spends, like, 12 hours a day with dough.”

Aaliya sighed. “We’re not accusing anyone yet. But we can’t ignore that the bloodstain was weird.”

“Weird? Try creepy,” Jamal said. “And what about Elias? The guy owns more knives than the town has lampposts.”

“Elias has lived here forever. If he were going to do something shady, he’d have done it years ago,” Aaliya countered.

“I say we keep an eye on both of them,” Jamal suggested. “You know, like a casual, totally-not-obvious stakeout.”

“Great idea,” Aaliya said. “We’ll tail Luca. You tail Elias.”

“Wait, why me?” Jamal protested.

“Because Elias likes me, and I don’t want to ruin that. Plus, you’re better at sneaky stuff.”

Jamal sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if I end up as sausage meat, it’s on you.”

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Chapter 5: 

Doughy Alibi

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That afternoon, Aaliya and Mrs. Henderson slipped into The Golden Loaf, pretending to browse. Luca greeted them with his signature warm smile.

“Good morning, ladies! What can I get you today?”

“Just browsing,” Aaliya said casually, her eyes scanning the bakery.

The shelves were lined with neat rows of bread, pastries, and pies. Everything looked pristine, but Aaliya’s gaze lingered on the back door.

“You’re really settling in here,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “How do you like Greywick so far?”

“It’s lovely,” Luca said, wiping flour from his hands. “Everyone’s been so kind. It’s a nice change from the city.”

“Must be a lot quieter,” Mrs. Henderson chimed in.

“Oh, definitely,” Luca said. “Though I did hear about that commotion at the park last night. Terrible, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Aaliya said, studying his expression. “You weren’t around, were you?”

Luca frowned slightly, shaking his head. “No, I was here late last night prepping dough for today. You can ask Officer Mills—he stopped by for a midnight pie.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” Aaliya muttered under her breath.

“Sorry?” Luca asked, tilting his head.

“Nothing! Just saying it’s good to have an alibi,” Aaliya said quickly, flashing a smile.

Luca chuckled nervously. “Alibi? I didn’t realize I needed one.”

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Chapter 6:

 Cleaver Intentions

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Meanwhile, Jamal loitered outside Prime Cuts, pretending to inspect the flyer board. Inside, Elias and Malik were deep in conversation.

“Look, I’m not saying it was Luca,” Malik said, lowering his voice, “but the guy does work with a lot of sharp tools. Rolling pins can be deadly.”

Elias snorted. “You’re impossible.”

Jamal leaned closer to the window, trying to hear more, but his torch slipped from his hand, clattering onto the pavement.

Both men inside looked up.

“Smooth,” Jamal muttered to himself as Elias stormed outside.

“Jamal,” Elias said, narrowing his eyes. “Why are you loitering?”

“Loitering? Me? No, no, just… admiring the flyer for the community potluck,” Jamal stammered. “Thinking of bringing… uh… lentils.”

Elias raised an eyebrow. “You hate lentils.”

“Exactly! It’s a selfless act of charity,” Jamal said, flashing an awkward smile.

Elias didn’t buy it, but before he could press further, a loud crash came from inside the butcher shop.

“Malik!” Elias barked, rushing back inside.

Jamal hesitated, then followed, stepping into the shop for the first time. The sight stopped him in his tracks: a large slab of meat had fallen off the hook, splattering the floor.

“Told you to secure that,” Elias growled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Malik muttered, grabbing a mop.

Jamal exhaled in relief. “Well, nothing sinister here. Guess I’ll… be on my way.”

But as he left, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something in the shop didn’t add up.

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Chapter 7: 

The Third Wheel

Later that evening, the trio reconvened at Joe’s Tavern. Aaliya was wiping down the counter, Jamal was nursing a mug of joe, and Mrs. Henderson sat quietly, looking pale.

“Well?” Aaliya asked, raising an eyebrow at Jamal.

“Well, what?” Jamal replied, slouching dramatically in his chair.

“Did you find anything suspicious at the butcher shop?”

“Define suspicious,” Jamal said, tapping his mug. “If you mean Elias being his usual grumpy self, then sure. If you mean anything remotely tied to the creepy bloodstain incident, then no.”

“Nothing?” Aaliya pressed.

“Well… there was this weird tension between Elias and Malik,” Jamal admitted. “Like they were hiding something. Also, a huge slab of meat fell, and it felt… staged.”

“Staged?” Mrs. Henderson asked, her voice trembling.

“Yeah, like they wanted me to think it was just an accident.” Jamal leaned in, lowering his voice. “I’m telling you, something’s off with them.”

“Couldn’t it just be a butcher shop being a butcher shop?” Aaliya asked.

“Maybe. But why does Elias glare at Luca like he’s ready to dice him into stew meat?”

Before anyone could reply, the door to the tavern swung open, and Luca stepped in, his apron slung over his shoulder.

“Evening, everyone,” Luca said, flashing his usual smile. “Mind if I join you?”

The trio exchanged glances.

“Uh, sure,” Aaliya said reluctantly, pulling out a chair.

Luca sat down, his presence oddly calming. “I heard about what happened at the park. Terrible, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jamal said, trying to keep his tone neutral. “What do you think happened?”

Luca shrugged. “I don’t know. But I hope whoever’s responsible is found soon. It’s unsettling.”

“You weren’t… near the park last night, were you?” Aaliya asked, testing the waters.

“No, I was at the bakery prepping for today,” Luca said smoothly. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Aaliya said, her voice light.

Jamal leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “Do you always prep alone?”

“Usually,” Luca replied. “Though Officer Mills did stop by for a pie. He can vouch for me.”

“Convenient,” Jamal muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Luca’s smile faltered. “Is there something you’re implying, Jamal?”

“Not at all,” Jamal said, raising his mug. “Just appreciating your, uh, work ethic.”

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Chapter 8: 

Torches in the Night

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That night, the town seemed quieter than usual. Aaliya couldn’t shake the feeling that something was brewing beneath Greywick’s seemingly peaceful surface.

“Are we overthinking this?” she asked Jamal as they walked back to her house, torches lighting their path.

“Overthinking? Us? Never,” Jamal said sarcastically. “We’re just three nosy townsfolk trying to solve a mystery that may or may not involve a bloodstain and some suspicious bakers and butchers.”

“Okay, but seriously. What if we’re wrong about Luca or Elias?”

Jamal stopped walking, turning to face her. “Aaliya, we’re not accusing anyone yet. We’re just… observing. Gathering data. And if nothing adds up, then we’ll let it go.”

A loud crash interrupted their conversation. Both of them froze.

“What was that?” Aaliya whispered, gripping her torch tightly.

“Probably just a stray cat,” Jamal said, though his voice wavered.

Another crash, followed by the sound of something metallic clanging against the pavement.

“That’s not a cat,” Aaliya said, her eyes wide.

“Let’s… not investigate,” Jamal suggested.

“Too late,” Aaliya said, already moving toward the source of the noise.

Jamal groaned. “This is how people in horror stories end up on missing posters, you know.”

As they rounded the corner, their torches illuminated a dark figure crouched near a pile of overturned trash cans. The figure froze, then slowly turned to face them.

It was Malik.

“Malik?” Aaliya asked, lowering her torch slightly.

“Oh, uh… hey,” Malik said, looking sheepish. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What are you doing out here?” Jamal asked suspiciously.

“Just… taking a walk,” Malik said quickly.

“Near the bakery?” Aaliya pressed.

Malik hesitated. “I… I like the smell of fresh bread.”

Jamal raised an eyebrow. “At midnight?”

“Yes?” Malik replied, though it sounded more like a question.

Aaliya and Jamal exchanged a glance.

“You’re acting weird,” Aaliya said.

“Am not,” Malik protested.

“Are too,” Jamal countered.

Malik sighed. “Fine. But if I tell you, you have to promise not to tell Elias.”

“Promise,” Aaliya said immediately.

“I’m pretty sure Luca’s hiding something,” Malik admitted. “I’ve seen him sneaking out of the bakery late at night. And not just to take out the trash.”

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Chapter 11: 

Crumbs of Suspicion

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The next morning, Aaliya, Jamal, and Malik gathered at the town square’s café. The place bustled with morning chatter, clinking mugs of joe, and the occasional bark of a stray dog chasing pigeons.

“So, we went through all that sneaking around to discover Luca’s big secret is… flour?” Jamal said, stirring his joe with exaggerated motions. “Premium flour. The scandal of the century.”

Malik, still looking pale from the previous night’s adventure, chimed in, “I mean, it’s illegal. That’s something, right?”

Aaliya leaned back in her chair, her eyes scanning the square. “It’s not nothing, but it doesn’t explain the other weird stuff.”

“Like the bloodstain?” Jamal asked.

“Exactly,” Aaliya replied. “And Malik, didn’t you say you’ve seen Luca sneaking out multiple times? What was he doing those other nights?”

Malik shrugged, looking down at his plate. “I don’t know. It’s not like I followed him.”

“Well, maybe you should have,” Jamal muttered.

“Guys, focus,” Aaliya said, leaning forward. “We need to figure out if this is connected to the park or if we’re just chasing shadows.”

At that moment, Officer Mills entered the café, his uniform slightly rumpled and his expression grim. He grabbed a mug of joe from the counter and walked straight toward their table.

“Morning,” Mills said, his voice heavy.

“Morning,” Aaliya replied cautiously. “What’s up?”

“There’s been another incident,” Mills said, lowering his voice.

Jamal groaned. “Of course there has. Because why wouldn’t there be?”

“Where?” Aaliya asked, her heart sinking.

“Near the old mill,” Mills replied. “Same kind of thing—a pool of blood but no sign of anyone hurt or… worse.”

“Another bloodstain?” Malik asked, his voice trembling.

Mills nodded. “We’ve got the area cordoned off, but I thought you three should know. You seem to have a knack for being in the middle of these things.”

“Lucky us,” Jamal said dryly.

Aaliya stood up, determination flashing in her eyes. “We’ll check it out.”

Mills raised an eyebrow. “You’re not investigators.”

“Neither are you, technically,” Jamal pointed out. “You’re a traffic cop.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t arrest you for interfering,” Mills shot back.

“Alright, alright,” Aaliya said, stepping between them. “Let’s not start another fight. Mills, just… let us look around. We’ll be careful.”

Mills hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But if you find anything, you report it to me immediately. Got it?”

“Got it,” Aaliya said, already heading for the door.

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Chapter 12: 

The Mill's Shadows

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The old mill was as eerie as ever, its crumbling walls covered in ivy and its windows shattered like jagged teeth. The surrounding area was quiet, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth.

“This place always gives me the creeps,” Malik muttered, clutching his torch like a lifeline.

“You and me both,” Jamal said, scanning the area with his own torch. “Let’s make this quick.”

Aaliya led the way, her steps careful but confident. They soon spotted the bloodstain, a dark, congealed pool on the ground near the mill’s entrance.

“It’s fresher than the one at the park,” Aaliya observed, crouching down to examine it.

“Great,” Jamal said, shivering. “So, whatever’s happening, it’s escalating.”

Malik pointed toward a set of footprints leading away from the stain. “Look. Someone was here.”

The trio followed the trail, their torches cutting through the gloom. The footprints led to a small clearing behind the mill, where they abruptly stopped.

“Where did they go?” Malik asked, looking around nervously.

“Good question,” Aaliya said, scanning the area. “There’s no sign of a struggle, no broken branches, nothing.”

“Maybe they flew away,” Jamal said sarcastically.

“Or vanished,” Malik whispered, clutching his torch tighter.

A sudden rustling noise made all three of them jump.

“What was that?” Jamal hissed, spinning around.

“Probably just the wind,” Aaliya said, though her grip on her torch tightened.

The rustling grew louder, coming from a nearby cluster of bushes. Aaliya motioned for the others to stay back as she approached cautiously.

“Be careful,” Malik whispered, his voice trembling.

Aaliya pushed the bushes aside, revealing… a raccoon.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Jamal said, throwing his hands in the air. “We got spooked by a trash panda.”

The raccoon stared at them for a moment before scurrying away, disappearing into the shadows.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Aaliya said, standing up.

“Speak for yourself,” Malik muttered, still clutching his torch like a weapon.

“Let’s head back,” Jamal said. “This place is giving me a bad feeling.”

As they turned to leave, Aaliya’s torch caught something shiny in the dirt. She bent down and picked it up—a small, silver locket.

“What’s that?” Malik asked.

“I don’t know,” Aaliya said, opening the locket. Inside was a tiny photo of a young woman, her face partially faded with age.

“Who do you think she is?” Jamal asked.

“I’m not sure,” Aaliya replied, slipping the locket into her pocket. “But I have a feeling she’s connected to all this.”

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