Murder, She Wrote: A Date with Murder by Jessica Fletcher (English) Paperback Bo

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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.

FORMATPaperback LANGUAGEEnglish CONDITIONBrand New Author Biography

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.

Review

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

Promotional

Jessica Fletcher investigates a friend's murder and a dangerous dating service in the latest entry in this USA Today bestselling series . . .

Review Quote

Praise for A Date with Murder: "Series fans will be pleased to find this popular franchise in Land's able hands."-- Publishers Weekly "Fans will be thrilled...a very clever mystery that will have readers excited to get their hands on the next Land installment."--Suspense 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

Promotional "Headline"

Jessica Fletcher investigates a friend's murder and a dangerous dating service in the latest entry in this USA Today bestselling series . . .

Excerpt from Book

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 drive, and I''ve given up trying to figure it out myself. I guess one of the great things about Cabot Cove is you don''t need a car to get around, much less a plane. I also hadn''t needed either when I spent much of my time at the Manhattan apartment I seldom visited these days. "Anything you''d like to say to Babs and Hal?" Eve Simpson said, approaching with her Canon still in her grasp. "I''m making a video for their anniversary." I''d forgotten it was coming up. "Making a video with what?" She held up her camera. "This." "I thought you said video." "I did," Eve said, shooting me the kind of stare adults aim at ten-year-olds. "This records video, too-on a memory card," she added, popping it from its slot. "See?" I watched Eve slide the tiny thing back in. "What should I say?" She positioned herself before me. "Whatever comes to mind. You and Seth are the last ones I need to get." I remembered Eve spending the party circulating through the crowd with the camera dangling from her neck, mining for gossip, I thought, but now I realized her intentions had been considerably more hospitable. "Ready whenever you are," I said. "Just start whenever you''re ready." I smiled and plunged right in. "Congratulations, Hal and Babs. I feel like I''ve known you forever and I guess I have, at least since you moved to Cabot Cove. I watched your beautiful daughter, Alyssa, grow up and can only hope you''ve dissuaded her from becoming a writer. On the chance you haven''t, my offer to serve as mentor still stands, so long as I don''t have to teach her how to drive!" I stopped and moved my gaze from the camera to Eve. "How was that?" "Perfect!" "Ready to leave, Jessica?" Seth asked, coming up from behind me. "Sure, but you need to record a video for Eve first, congratulating Babs and Hal on their anniversary." "Ayuh. Sure thing. But where''s the camera?" Eve had begun to launch into her explanation anew when her eyes widened at the sight of someone passing between us and the entrance to the kitchen. "My God, do you know who that is?" I followed her gaze to a youngish man striding toward the outdoor bar with an empty drink glass. "Can''t say that I do." "It''s Deacon Westhausen, for God''s sake." The name rang a bell, but it took me a moment to realize the source of Eve''s excitement. "Of course, the tech giant," I said, watching as Westhausen was intercepted by a trio of party guests en route to the bar. "Tech giant? That''s putting it mildly. The man''s Steve Jobs, Elon Musk, and Richard Branson all rolled into one." "I''ve read the stories, Eve," I said, not bothering to hide my lack of enthusiasm for Cabot Cove''s latest local celebrity, who was building a massive home in a previously protected area of wetlands right on the bluffs forming the cove that gave our town its name. This in return for the sizable investment he''d made in the long-awaited expansion of our cherished marina. "And I''ve also read the stories questioning the source of his income." "I think you''re just jealous over not being the most famous person in town anymore. And look at all the jobs the amphitheater he''s building at the marina has brought to town." "Then we should dismiss the rumors about his cutting corners and using substandard building materials?" "Yes, because that''s all they are-rumors. Spread by those who are jealous of his success and all the good he''s doing for this town." "I don''t count that monstrosity he''s building off the docks as anything good, Eve." She scampered across the lawn, weaving a zigzagging path toward Deacon Westhausen and leaving me to follow Babs through a door leading directly into the kitchen to say my good-byes. "Hal?" Babs called out before I could say anything. The kitchen was empty, or it seemed to be. But then I saw half of a man''s shoe protruding from behind a large island used for prepping food. I approached it to have a better look. The shoe was attached to a leg-Hal Wirth''s leg. "Hal!" Babs shrieked. I rushed out the door to get Seth, the primary care doctor for pretty much the entire town. But I didn''t have to go far, since he was already running toward me, having heard Babs''s anguished cry. "What''s wrong?" he asked as we shouldered through the door, trailed by Eve Simpson,

Details ISBN0451489292 Author Jessica Fletcher Publisher Penguin Putnam Inc Year 2018 ISBN-10 0451489292 ISBN-13 9780451489296 Format Paperback Publication Date 2018-10-18 Imprint Berkley Publishing Corporation,U.S. Place of Publication New York Country of Publication United States Pages 272 Series Murder She Wrote DEWEY 813.54 Language English Subtitle A Date With Murder Series Number 47 US Release Date 2018-09-25 UK Release Date 2018-09-25 Illustrator Ramon Bachs Birth 1971 Affiliation Department of Psychology, University of New Mexico, USA Position Department of Psychology Qualifications Ph.D. Audience General NZ Release Date 2018-10-17 AU Release Date 2018-10-17 We've got this

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