Murder, She Wrote: A Date with Murder

Jessica Fletcher investigates a friend's murder and a dangerous dating service in the latest entry in this USA Today bestselling series... Jessica Fletcher takes up the cause of her good friend Barbara "Babs" Wirth after Babs' husband Hal suffers a fatal heart attack that Jessica has reason to believe was actually murder. At the heart of her suspicions lies a sinister dating site Hal had used while he and Babs were having marital issues--a site that may be complicit in somehow swindling him out of millions. ; Jessica's investigation reveals that Hal was far from the only victim and when his former business partner is also killed, a deadly pattern emerges. Jessica teams up with a brilliant young computer hacker to follow the trail but as she gets closer to the truth, two near misses force her to realize that she may very well be the next victim. The stakes have never been this high as Jessica finds herself being stalked by the killer she is trying to catch. She must now set the perfect trap to avoid her very own date with murder.

Praise for Murder, She Wrote: A Date with Murder

“Series fans will be pleased to find this popular franchise in Land's able hands.”—Publishers Weekly

“A true masterpiece in the genre.”—Suspense Magazine
 
“Land deftly captures not only the show's essence, but Bain's style from the previous books in a cozy murder mystery brimming with suspense and heart.”—San Francisco Book Review

“Murder, She Wrote that reads like a long-lost episode of the early '80s TV show, and readers will hear Angela Lansbury’s voice in Land’s spot-on dialogue.”—The Press-Republican
 
“A killer cozy, boasting a masterfully crafted plot, fast-paced scenes, nail-biting suspense, and a heaping helping of old-fashioned justice. Longtime fans of Murder, She Wrote mysteries will revel in this latest installment.”—Top Shelf Magazine

Praise for the USA Today bestselling Murder, She Wrote Series

“Fresh and appealing...extremely satisfying. It pulled me in right from the beginning.”—Open Book Society

“Jessica Fletcher, mystery writer and amateur sleuth, always has me coming back for more.”—A Cozy Girl Reads

Autorentext
Jessica Fletcher is a bestselling mystery writer who has a knack for stumbling upon real-life mysteries in her various travels. Donald Bain, the author of more than one hundred and twenty books, collaborates, with Jon Land on this bestselling series.

Leseprobe
Chapter One

"Come on, Jess-everything's riding on you."

Those words of encouragement came from Barbara Wirth, known to everyone in the town of Cabot Cove as "Babs." Babs and her husband, Hal, hosted what had become an annual event on Labor Day, a barbecue complete with friendly games, tasty grilled fare, finger food passed by well-dressed servers, and sumptuous desserts. A high-spirited memorial to the summer that had passed and the fall season now upon us. The couple's tennis court had been busy all afternoon, and the free-form pool ensured that the youngsters would be tuckered out (with puckered skin) and ready for bed when the festivities ended.

The horseshoe pit had been active all afternoon as well. The sound of the metal horseshoes hitting the iron spikes driven into the ground was a constant reminder that horseshoes was a popular game for young and old alike. I'd once read that it was a spin-off from the game of quoits, dating back two thousand years to just after horseshoes themselves had been invented. All I knew was that they seemed to get heavier with each toss, making me wonder how the poor horses managed with them nailed to their hooves.

The party had started to wind down. But the families gathering their belongings and saying their good-byes to Hal and Babs seemed equally matched by newcomers arriving unfashionably late. It was the day before the traditional start of school, explaining why this party, inevitably, lingered into the early-evening hours under the floodlights the Wirths had set up with just that expectation in mind. The sun was poised to dip behind the mountains in the distance, and those who'd elected to spend their day on the beach, a short walk from the Wirths' expansive property, brushed sand off their feet and bathing suits as they arrived.

I'd intended to join those who were leaving until Babs convinced me to team up with her for a final game of horseshoes. Our opponents were the town historian, Tim Purdy, and Brad Crandall, an old-timer known as the best horseshoe thrower in town. Standing nearby, camera in hand, was Eve Simpson, Cabot Cove's premier Realtor and gossip, two avocations that apparently went hand in hand. Eve was holding the camera but didn't seem to be taking any pictures. Servers from Cabot Cove Catering, meanwhile, filtered through the crowd, dispensing their wares with napkins to spare. A healthy assortment of the company's most delectable treats, now that we'd entered the dessert phase of the festivities, had replaced the trays of finger foods. My mouth watered at the sight of the bite-sized brownies, but I watched the last one snatched from the tray just before the server reached me.

I guess it wasn't my day.

We were down to the final tosses. Tim and Brad had twenty points, one shy of the winning number. Babs and I had surprised everyone (including ourselves) by accumulating eighteen points, three shy of the winning number of twenty-one. It was my turn to throw my two horseshoes at the iron stake, which stood forty feet from where I was poised to take what would be the final turn. I'd need a "ringer," worth three points, in which the horseshoe encircles the stake, for us to win. I didn't suffer any illusions that I was capable of such a toss, especially now that the horseshoe I was hefting felt heavier than the bicycle I often had to lift over the curb to chain in place.

"You can do it, Jess!" Babs assured me, upbeat as ever.

Her rosy voice made for a fitting match with her appearance. She had a headful of red curls that framed flawless, smooth skin that looked as though it belonged in a skilled artist's portrait. And her trim, athletic figure hadn't changed an ounce in the nine years I'd known her, as she looked more like someone who rode horses than tossed their shoes.

I eyed the stake, which seemed to be farther away than forty feet. The horseshoe, which weighed all of two and a half pounds, made me list to the side on which I was holding it. I drew a deep breath and glanced at Tim and Brad, whose bemused expressions reflected confidence in their victory. Then I closed my eyes, opened them, focused on the stake, and pitched the horseshoe, which caught the final rays of sun as it sailed through the air.

To my delight, the harsh sound of the horseshoe clanging against the iron stake rang in my ears.

"It's a ringer, Jess!" Babs yelled. "You tossed a ringer! We won!"

I guess it was my day, after all.

Tim gave me a hug. Brad, a sour expression on his weathered face, mumbled congratulations and walked away.

"Wait till I tell Hal," Babs bubbled. "Where is he?"

I fell in behind Babs in search of her husband. As we approached the sprawling New England-style house, we passed my dear friend Dr. Seth Hazlitt, who'd driven me to the gathering. People in town wonder why I've never learned to drive a car and trust my bicycle to get around, and look askance at me for having taken flying lessons and earning my private pilot's license. I'm not sure that I can adequately explain why I have a license to fly but not one that allows me to dri…

#	Onlineshop	Preis CHF	Versand CHF	Total CHF
1	Seller	0.00	0.00	0.00