Murder, She Wrote: Killer on the Court

Murder, She Wrote: Killer on the Court

Jessica Fletcher’s sunny beach vacation with her nephew’s family takes a dark turn in this installment in the USA Today bestselling series, now in paperback. Jessica is delighted when her nephew Grady invites her to spend a few days with his family in an oceanside New York bungalow. She packs her bags and heads down to the city, ready to spend some quality time with Grady; his wife, Donna; and their young son, Frank. But the morning after Jessica’s arrival, Donna finds her boss dead on a tennis court, and Jessica’s dreams of a relaxing visit are quashed. Everyone in the small beachside community is a suspect, and the local authorities—headed by an old colleague of Cabot Cove sheriff Mort Metzger—have asked that no one leave town. Will Jessica be able find a killer and salvage the rest of her trip? Jessica Fletcher is a bestselling mystery writer who has a knack for stumbling upon real-life mysteries in her various travels. Award-winning writer Terrie Farley Moran coauthors this bestselling series. Chapter One I awoke to the sound of chirping and saw a goldfinch perched on the outside ledge of my bedroom window, his yellow body brightening the gloomy overcast sky that served as his background. I slipped out of bed as carefully as I could, trying not to frighten him away. But it was no use. Birds are sensitive to motion, and he flew off. As soon as I opened the window wider, I could hear his friends and cousins singing in the trees. I began to take deep breaths of the warm, moist air coming in off the ocean. I was sure it would bring rain along with it well before the day's end. During the summer months, I have an almost childlike expectation that every day will be sunny and cheerful. But if today wasn't going to cooperate, it didn't matter to me. I didn't need sunshine to feel exuberant. At exactly eight thirty-seven last night, I had placed my cursor on send and clicked with great determination. That was all it took to propel the manuscript I'd been diligently writing and rewriting for the past several months to my editor's waiting in-box with more than three hours to spare before my deadline. I stretched my arms far above my head and then touched the floor. In the midst of my second stretch, I made a snap decision. Rain or no rain, I was going for a bicycle ride to shake off the stiffness caused by the long hours I'd been spending hunched over my computer keyboard. I scrambled into a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt. After I grabbed my faded blue waterproof jacket from the coatrack in the front hall, I headed to the kitchen and poured a glass of orange juice just as the telephone rang. I glanced at the clock, wondering who would be calling at ten minutes to seven in the morning. "Jessica, tell me, is it true? Has the world-famous author J. B. Fletcher put another devilishly clever mystery to bed?" I should have realized it would be my dear friend Seth Hazlitt. Doctors are well-known for being early birds. I laughed. "Yes, it's true. The manuscript is right where it needs to be-on my editor's desk. I am somewhat surprised that you weren't able to hear me clapping and singing all around the dining room after I sent it off last night." "Must have been quite a show. Sorry I missed it." Seth laughed. "I had my windows closed in case today's rainstorm came in early. But it's not too late to celebrate. Let's get the revelry started." "Great idea, Seth. I was about to tour the town on my bike. Do you want to come along?" I teased. Before he could snap at me, I was quick to acknowledge that if Seth was talking about his favorite kind of celebration, it would be one that involved food. "Did I forget we'd made breakfast plans?" "Woman, with that book taking up every inch of your brain for the past few weeks, do you think you would have remembered if we had?" He had me there. In recent weeks, I had been so immersed in polishing the final chapters, I could hardly remember to eat three meals a day and to squeeze in enough exercise to keep my heart pumping. Any invitations I might have received were instantly forgotten the minute I agreed to the date and time. Seth continued. "I will pick you up in, say, ten minutes, and then it's Mara's blueberry pancakes all around." "I'm more than ready. I'll wait outside." I hung up the phone, put my juice back in the refrigerator, and walked out to wait by my front gate. My neighbor Maeve O'Bannon was puttering in her garden. She waved at me with a hand wrapped around green-handled pruning shears. "Early morning to you, Jessica-best time of the day. I expect your book is finished?" She caught me by surprise. "Yes, it is. I sent it to my editor last night. How on earth did you know?" Maeve laughed and bobbed her head, which set her gray curls bouncing. "Barely seen hide nor hair of you for the better part of more than a week, and now here you are, all smiley and chipper. I said to myself, book must be finished." "I can't tell you what a relief it is. Thi