Death at the Church Bake Sale: Northwoods Cozy Mystery, #3

By W.R. Madison

A poisoned pie. A beloved community member dead. And a small town pastor turned amateur sleuth determined to uncover the truth.

 

Reverend Sam Bennet is enjoying the success of the annual church bake sale when tragedy strikes. Martha Simmons, known for her kind heart and legendary blueberry pies, collapses after tasting her own creation. 

 

As the close-knit community of Havenwood reels from the shock of Martha's death, suspicion falls upon several individuals, each with their own secrets and motives.

 

Determined to find justice for Martha and protect his flock, Reverend Bennet embarks on a quest for the truth. He uncovers a tangled web of hidden relationships, past grievances, and a dark secret that threatens to shatter the foundation of their seemingly idyllic town.

 

With the help of his quick-witted daughter,

• Ellie, his old friend,
• Michael, a psychologist with a keen understanding of the human mind,
• and the determined sheriff Tom Granger,
• Reverend Bennet delves into the lives of the suspects. He navigates the treacherous waters of small-town politics, confronts powerful figures who would do anything to keep their secrets buried, and faces his own internal struggles as he grapples with the darkness that has infiltrated his beloved community.

 

As the investigation deepens, Bennet uncovers a trail of clues that lead him to the heart of a conspiracy that reaches far beyond the walls of the church. He must confront his own biases, question his faith in those he trusted, and ultimately decide how far he is willing to go to uncover the truth.

 

Death at the Church Bake Sale

1. is a captivating cozy mystery that will keep you guessing until the very end.
2. With its charming small-town setting, intriguing cast of characters, and a touch of faith and inspiration,
3. this novel is a delightful read for fans of Agatha Christie and Louise Penny.

 

Join Reverend Bennet on his quest for justice as he unravels the secrets of Havenwood and discovers that the truth can be both liberating and devastating.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: W.R. Madison Publishing
• Release date: Apr 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224689002

W.R. Madison

With years of ordained ministry in the Church and after publishing over 100 self-help and spiritual books, W.R. Madison is now taking his treasure of inside wisdom and stories, combined with his passion for searching and solving life's many mysteries, and created his Cozy Christian Mystery series wrapped in the Northwoods, of Wisconsin.  He portrays the charm and legends found only in Havenwood.  W.R. Madison's goal in writing his fiction stories is to help the reader take a break from the sometimes harsh realities of daily life, and wrap themselves in solving the mysteries buried in the shadows of Widow Hill.  His hero, The Rev. Sam Bennet, will inspire deeper faith, trust in God's plans and the constant need for integrity in daily living. Welcome aboard!

Book preview

A Deadly Blueberry Pie

The annual Bake Sale was proving to be a huge success. Proceeds would boost the church’s income for months. The Reverend Samuel Bennet stood at the doorway of the Church hall thanking everyone for attending. 

As pastor of Havenwood’s Community Church, the Reverend was pleased that he could be a part of such a community-building event.

The last volunteer was packing up when Martha spotted it – a lone slice of her blueberry pie, perched on the otherwise deserted sample table like a forgotten jewel. Its golden crust and jewel-toned filling beckoned, a siren song to her baker's soul. A chuckle escaped her lips.

Well, isn't that odd, Martha murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. I could've sworn the sample table was cleared and cleaned.

She reached out, her fingertips hovering just above the crust. The temptation to claim the final taste of her creation was strong, a siren's call to her baker's soul.

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, mingling with the fading echoes of the day's festivities. Waste not, want not, she said, her hand closing around the plate.

She took a deep satisfying bite. Then it happened.

Martha stopped chewing and swallowing for just a moment. A look of surprise covered her face as a foreign bitterness invaded the familiar sweetness. 

It wasn't lemon zest or a dash of spice – it was an alien taste, unwelcome and sinister. A wave of nausea rolled through her, and the once-comforting weight of the pie turned into a leaden lump in her stomach.

Panic clawed at her throat as she looked around the emptying church hall, shadows lengthening into menacing figures. She could barely make out the silhouette of the Reverend standing by the front door.

Dizziness washed over her, the walls tilting as if the very foundation of the church was crumbling. 

Her hand outstretched for support, met only air. The plate tumbled from her grasp, shattering on the floor like a broken promise.

Reverend Bennet, his farewells interrupted by the crash, turned to see Martha, her face ashen, her body swaying. He rushed to her side as her knees buckled, catching her just before she hit the ground. 

Her eyes, wide with terror, met his, a silent plea for help escaping her lips.

Martha, can you hear me? Reverend Bennet asked, leaning close to her ear. Help is on the way. Just hold on.

But Martha didn't respond, her eyes rolling back in her head as another convulsion seized her body. Reverend Bennet felt a surge of helplessness wash over him, his heart aching for the kind, gentle woman who had been such a pillar of their community, and a matriarch of his congregation.

Someone call 911! he shouted, echoing through the now-silent hall. reaching the kitchen at the far end.  As he cradled Martha's head in his lap, he caught a whiff of almonds on her breath, a chillingly familiar scent that whispered of something far more sinister than a spoiled pie.

Chaos erupted. Volunteers rushed toward the scene, their faces etched with concern and confusion. But Reverend Bennet could only focus on the woman in his arms, her breath shallow and erratic, her skin turning a ghastly shade of gray. Bennet knew this was no ordinary illness, but the work of something malevolent – a poison, and a murderer lurking in the heart of their community, had claimed its first victim.

Reverend Bennet looked down at Martha's pale, still face, a sense of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. 

Whoever had caused this sudden death, he knew that it would test the strength and resilience of Havenwood’s small, close-knit community. 

But for now, all he could do was pray for her soul and hope for the best.

AS THE PARAMEDICS RUSHED into the church hall, Reverend Bennet moved aside, allowing them space to work on Martha. They quickly assessed her condition. Martha’s body was still, and no heartbeat was found.  

The paramedics spotted a faint bit of white foam on the sides of her mouth.  They instantly recognized this sure sign of poison working its deadly curse throughout her body.

Reverend Bennet watched helplessly as they loaded Martha onto a stretcher, He followed them out to the ambulance, his heart heavy with grief.

Martha Simmons, the beloved matriarch of their church and Havenwood community, was gone, leaving behind a void that could never be filled.

The Reverend turned to face the crowd gathered outside the church, their eyes wide with fear and concern. 

The weight of the news he had to deliver pressed down on his shoulders, making each step feel like a monumental effort.

He cleared his throat, his voice cracking as he spoke. It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you all that Martha Simmons has passed away.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by an overwhelming silence. The once vibrant atmosphere of the bake sale had been replaced by a suffocating blanket of grief and shock. 

The church volunteers and community bystanders stood frozen, their faces a mixture of disbelief and anguish.

Martha Simmons, the beloved matriarch of their community, the woman known for her warm smile and legendary blueberry pies, was gone. It seemed impossible, unthinkable, that someone so full of life could be taken from them so suddenly.

Reverend Bennet looked out at the sea of faces, seeing the pain and confusion in their eyes. He knew that Martha had been more than just a member of their congregation; she had been a friend, a confidant, a source of comfort and wisdom to so many.

As the reality of the situation began to sink in, the silence was broken by the sound of quiet sobs and murmured condolences. People reached out to one another, offering hugs and words of comfort, trying to make sense of the tragedy that had just unfolded.

Reverend Bennet felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Esther Hawkins, her eyes brimming with tears. What happened, Reverend? she asked, her voice trembling. How could this happen to Martha?

He shook his head, at a loss for words. I don't know, Esther. It all happened so fast. One moment she was fine, and the next... He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Reverend Bennet stood amidst the grieving onlookers; his heart heavy with the weight of Martha's sudden passing. He watched as people comforted each other, some openly weeping, others still in a state of disbelief. The once lively bake sale had transformed into a scene of shared sorrow and shock.

He moved through the crowd, offering words of solace and support. He placed a gentle hand on the shoulder of an elderly woman who had been close to Martha, her frail frame shaking with sobs. She's in a better place now, the Reverend said softly, though the words felt hollow even to his own ears.

As the paramedics prepared to leave, their faces grim, Reverend Bennet noticed a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see one of the volunteers, a woman he recognized but couldn't quite place, hurriedly gathering her belongings, and preparing to leave the scene. 

There was a look of morbid satisfaction etched onto her face, her movements jerky and uncoordinated.

Something about her demeanor struck him as odd, out of place amidst the collective grief. While others were drawn together in their shared loss, this woman seemed desperate to escape, to distance herself from the tragedy.

Reverend Bennet watched as she hastily made her way from the scene, her eyes darting around as if checking to see if anyone had noticed her departure. Just before she slipped out around the corner, their gazes met for a moment. In that instant, the Reverend saw a flicker of something in her eyes—guilt, perhaps, or a deeper anger that sent a chill down his spine.

He glanced back at the paramedics, now quickly leaving the scene. The sight sent a fresh wave of pain through his heart, but it was accompanied by a growing sense of unease. 

Something about this tragedy felt wrong, and he couldn't ignore the nagging suspicion that the fleeing woman held a piece of the puzzle.

Investigation

Sheriff Tom Granger entered the church hall, his boots echoing on the polished floor, a stark contrast to the hushed whispers and stifled sobs of the gathered congregation. 

His gaze swept across the scene, his eyes, hardened by years of witnessing tragedy, absorbing every detail – the overturned chair, the shattered plate, the ashen face of Martha Simmons cradled in Reverend Bennet's arms.

Unlike Havenwood's regular sheriff, known more for his love of donuts than detective work, Granger carried an air of quiet competence. 

He had arrived from the bustling county seat of Lakeville only days ago, a temporary replacement while Sheriff Smith recovered from surgery. His presence brought a sliver of hope to the Reverend, a sense that perhaps this tragedy wouldn't be swept under the rug like so many before.

Many of the business owners around Havenwood were glad to see a new sheriff in town. Their normal sheriff, Hank Smith, was not popular around town.  Except for Agnes, at the bakery, being glad Sheriff Smith loved doughnuts more than investigation. 

The majority of the town’s folks including Reverend Sam Benett thought the new temporary sheriff Tom Granger might bring some professionalism and investigative energy to solving crime.

Clear the hall, folks, Granger's voice, though quiet, held an undeniable authority that cut through the grieving murmurs. This is now a crime scene.

REVEREND BENNET WATCHED as Granger approached the shattered remnants of Martha's blueberry pie, his movements methodical, his expression unreadable. Yellow police tape unfurled, cordoning off the area, transforming the familiar church hall into a scene of tragedy.

The reality of it all hit the Reverend like a physical blow. This wasn't just a sudden illness; this was murder. Someone within their close-knit community, someone sharing their pews and breaking bread with them, was responsible.

Anger simmered beneath his grief, a cold fury at the violation of their sanctuary, at the senseless taking of a life so precious.

As the last of the onlookers filed out, casting hesitant glances back at the yellow tape and the grim-faced sheriff, Reverend Bennet approached Granger.

Reverend Sam's passion as an amateur sleuth took hold and he continued to view everyone and everything with the eyes of a detective.

Sheriff, he began, his voice betraying the turmoil within, I want to help in any way I can. Martha was... she was like family to this community. We owe it to her to find the truth.

He hesitated, then added, I believe she was poisoned. There was... a scent, a look about her that...

Granger met his gaze, a flicker of curiosity replacing the stoicism in his eyes. Poison, you say?

Bennet nodded, recalling the almond scent on Martha's breath, the white foam at the corner of her lips. Cyanide, I suspect. I've seen it before, back in Madison.

‘I used to ride along with the police on evenings as a sort of a police chaplain, but I did find deep interest in sleuthing too."

The sheriff's expression turned serious. Keep the poison details to yourself, Reverend. For now, let's just say we're not ruling anything out.

A silent understanding passed between them. At that moment, an unlikely alliance was forged, a pastor and a sheriff united in their pursuit of justice, ready to delve into the secrets that lay hidden beneath the surface of their seemingly peaceful town.

Picking Up the Pieces

The morning light filtering through the kitchen window felt intrusive, a harsh contrast to the darkness that had settled over Reverend Bennet's heart. 

Across the table, Ellie pushed her scrambled eggs around her plate, her usual morning energy replaced by a somber quietude. The vibrant college student who had bounced through the door just days ago, eager for summer break, now seemed lost in a fog of grief and confusion.

I just keep thinking about her laugh, Ellie finally said, her voice thick with unshed tears. And those blueberry pies... no one made them like Martha.

Reverend Bennet reached across the table, his hand engulfing Ellie's. I know, sweetheart. It's...unimaginable. He paused his grief, a raw ache in his chest. But we need to be strong, for each other, for Havenwood.

Ellie met his gaze, her eyes filled with a determination that mirrored his own. Do you think Sheriff Granger will find out who did it?

Tom Granger may be new to the badge in Havenwood, but he's as sharp as they come, Reverend Bennet assured her. He'll piece it together, you'll see. We just need to have a little faith. We'll help him the best we can.

A sigh escaped Bennet's lips. He's a good man, and thorough. But this town... it holds onto its secrets.

He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Martha's death than a random act of cruelty. The whispers he had overheard at the bake sale, the subtle tensions between Martha and Esther, even the way Mrs. Stanton had slipped away so quickly after the tragedy - it all pointed to hidden motives, simmering resentments, and a web of relationships more complex than they appeared.

Maybe I can help, Ellie offered, her brow furrowing in thought. I'm good at research, and I could talk to some of my friends, and see if they noticed anything at the bake sale.

A spark of hope flickered within Bennet. Ellie, with her youthful energy and connection to the younger generation, could offer a fresh perspective. Perhaps together they could unravel the secrets that shrouded Martha's death.

That's a wonderful idea, Ellie, he said, squeezing her hand. But be discreet, and please be careful.

He couldn't bear the thought of putting his daughter in harm's way, but he also knew he couldn't shield her from the darkness that had crept into their town. With his wife Sarah’s passing four years ago, He tended to act overprotective and careful with his daughter’s safety.

LATER THAT DAY, REVEREND Bennet visited the church, the silence within its walls amplifying his sense of loss. He couldn't escape the image of Martha's lifeless body, the echo of her laughter now replaced by the chilling realization that someone within their community of Havenwood was capable of murder.

He walked past the Church kitchen, the scene of the crime still cordoned off with yellow tape, a stark reminder of the investigation that was unfolding. He noticed a group of volunteers huddled near the