Bell Ringer: Magic Muffins and Murder: Bell Ringer Mysteries, #1

By PJ Tremblay

Retired profiler, Bell Ringer, has returning to her small northern Pennsylvania town to open a bakery. Bell's muffins are more than normal, they're paranormal - able to absorb her emotions and pass them on to her customers. Marmalade, her talking cat eats nothing but Bell's magic muffins and is always up to mischief. When a murder happens at the opening of her shop, The Magic Muffin, Bell's best friend is the chief suspect. Now Bell must find the killer, and maybe renew a high school love interest from fifty years ago.

• Language: English
• Publisher: PJ Tremblay
• Release date: Nov 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223410867

PJ Tremblay

Writer and author of Fantasies and Mysteries. A retired Pastor and Veteran with a MA, a BS, and an AAS in various subjects, I have always loved learning and dreaming. My wife Pam and I have been married since 1979 and we have 5 grandchildren. We live out in the country in what we like to think of as a tiny home where we enjoy nature and critters.

Book preview

Going Home

Coming home by bus made Bell think of high school. With a grin, she pushed her curly white hair away from her glasses remembering when it was dusty brown, and she wore a size six dress. That was high school, but now at age sixty-eight, her once hour-glass figure had settled into a pear shape.

The colorful quilted squares covering the jumbo bag beside her contorted as Marmalade’s heart-shaped orange head appeared.

Are we there yet?

Bell grimaced at the cat, still getting used to hearing her speak.

Shush, she whispered. Just a little while longer.

I hope so. It’s cramped in here.

Marmalade pulled her head inside. Minutes later, Bell could hear something between a soft snore and purring. Her criminal profiler career left Bell jaded towards most people, so she’d never married, but Marmalade was like a snarky teenage daughter.

When her dad died, Bell retired and moved her ailing mom to the city. Now, her mom was gone. She’d always been a loner, but she loved the time they spent together, especially in the kitchen where her mom taught baking magic. A tear clouded her vision as she remembered.

I’M A WITCH, SAID her mom.

Sure, and I’m a fairy princess, said Bell thinking she was joking.

No. No. It’s true. I’m a witch, sort of. I have a bit of magic, but it’s confined to baking. Let me show you.

She retrieved a leather-bound cookbook from her bedroom trunk, and they gathered ingredients for Bell’s favorite recipe, mom’s blueberry muffins. They laughed while singing silly songs as they measured and mixed. Her Mom blew a puff of flour in Bell’s face and Bell retaliated by flicking water. Mom’s baking had always been a magical event, and Bell told her so with a hug.

Oh, dear, that’s not the magic. That’s just the preparation.

Scooping the muffin batter into the paper sleeves, she sang a peculiar ditty while waving her whisk in circles above the tray.

Do-rae. Do-rae. Rumfo-ro. Do-rae. Do-rae. Shree.

Bell gasped. The whisk glowed a bright yellow throwing off light like a sparkler on the fourth of July. Tiny sparking whirlwinds twisted down disappearing into the batter. She popped the trays into the oven. That afternoon, her mom invited a few grumpy neighbors over for tea and muffins, and soon it became a party filled with joy and laughter. Hours later, they pushed the last ecstatic visitor out the door.

Now, do you understand? asked her mother.

You drugged them, said Bell.

Well, sort of. The muffins gathered up our happiness and passed it on to your neighbors.

What if you bake muffins when you’re sad or angry?

The muffins will pick up whatever emotion you had while mixing the ingredients.

You didn’t. Did you? asked Bell, stopping short.

Did I use my magic on you and your father? finished her mom. Yes, but not too often. Only when things seemed too overwhelming. The muffin magic is temporary, and solves nothing, but it’s better than some chemical medicine.

They didn’t notice Marmalade seated on the coffee table nibbling on muffin remnants until she floated between them and said her first words.

I’m still hungry.

BELL WIPED AWAY A TEAR and gazed