Betty’s Bakery Mystery

‘Betty’s bakery’ was one of the finest bakeries in town with all sorts of foods and treats to delight, it was a small older little italian storefront down on mainstreet. The granny whom tends this bakery is a rather mystical woman as her shop doubles as a witchy storefront given the right key word.

As a detective it is my duty to get to the bottom of this mystery once and for all, I pulled my old navy blue Chevy Impala between the two white parking stall lines. Popped a police hanger over my mirror before evacuating for Betty’s bakery.

Inside it looks and smells like any normal bakery, with me I carried a warrent so I could examine the backhalf of the store. To my shock it was tidy and clean everywhere, then my ‘Upumn’ sensces trigger to the dank basementy smell. It was carried by a breeze which sqooze under a small cabinet, upon a great scene of me heaving this antique piece of furniture out of my way.

I was greeted by a door, older than any other in the store. It had no knob though it seemed to be dated around the 40’s. Pulling draws and examining their contents I found the key and knob in the attic of all rooms, upon opening the unopened anchient door I was slapped in the face with the same fowl dank odor. Decending the rickety flight, I was greeted by a small sized room. Fishing for my flashlight from my sack upon my back, flicking it on I went from left to right cursory scrolling the room before I dare enter. It was empty exept an old chest…

Another key was required, this warded lock looked to require a Skeleton Key of which I have no clue where to start other than down here. Moving a wooden stool from the far wall I fished around ontop of the wooden beams lining the ceiling, without luck I took a broom to the floor.

Ending with a big pile of rubbish and dust, but revealing a map — a very old map indeed — again I fetched a magnifying glass from my sacks exterior pocket. Dropping down close to the map with a sketchpad I was able to photocopy it with ease, with everything I could gather — gathered for the night I returned to my Impala, turning the key in one movement she rumbled to life. As I peeled from the curb, she bunny hopped as my foot ate the accelorator.