Murder She Wrote by Jessica Fletcher and Terrie Farley Moran

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Today on the blog, I welcome Terrie Farley Moran, one of the brilliant minds currently bringing the Murder, She Wrote book series to life. If you’re a fan of Jessica Fletcher, cozy small towns, and clever mysteries wrapped in charm, you’re in for a treat.

Hi everyone, my name is Terrie Farley Moran and I am delighted to be one of the two current writers of the Murder She Wrote series. (The other writer is Barbara Early and if you have not yet read her book, MURDER, SHE WROTE SNOWY WITH A CHANCE OF MURDER, I suggest you track down a copy.) It is great fun.

The Murder, She Wrote books are based on the ever-popular television series featuring mystery writer Jessica Fletcher, who, through her natural curiosity combined with her innate common sense, manages to solve any crime that crosses her path.

I have been a fan of Murder, She Wrote ever since I saw the very first episode in September 1984. And, for a mystery reader like me, what could have been better than having Don Bain write (be still my heart!) TWO Murder, She Wrote books nearly every year beginning while the show was still on prime time television.

So it became that watching and/or reading Murder, She Wrote has remained my favorite guilty pleasure. And if anyone ever tells you that dreams do not come true, well, I confess I never even dared to dream that I would be invited to write Murder She Wrote and yet here I am talking about MURDER, SHE WROTE THE BODY IN THE TREES, which is my ninth contribution to the series.

Because Jessica travels a lot, either promoting her books or visiting friends and family, I have written Murder, She Wrote books that take place in Boston, Massachusetts; Columbia, South Carolina; Rockaway, Queens, New York; Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, along with several counties in Northern Ireland. But I have to admit that my favorite location to hang out with Jessica is her home town of Cabot Cove, Maine.

And so it happens that Jessica is home in Cabot Cove during what the locals call leaf peeper season, when all the leaves on those majestic trees such as maple, beech and aspen turn gorgeous colors and provide breath taking vistas for the tourists that Mainers like to call “flatlanders” who come to enjoy the beauty.

Four young women from Florida arrive in Cabot Cove on a fishing and leaf peeping tour and while having dinner in the restaurant of the Hill House, Jessica and her friend Maureen Metzger notice that one of the girls has had too much to drink. Of course, they offer to help her and they have a get to know you conversation. Several days later, Jessica and Cabot Cove Gazette editor Dan Andrews are bike riding along the ridge when they discover that the young woman has become The Body in the Trees.

Some may think this was just a terrible accident, but Jessica is not so sure…

About the Author

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.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Chapter One

For the past two weeks, I had been struggling to put the finishing touches on my latest mystery novel. Each day, until far into the evening, I’d been editing, revising, and editing some more. Mindful of my belief that it is imperative to keep both my body and my mind fit, daily I carved out a half hour to ride my bicycle or do my indoor cardio exercises. To my great joy early this afternoon, I was finally satisfied with every word I’d written. I hit the send button on the email that would deliver the manuscript to my editor. I gave a sigh of relief knowing I had time for a slight breather before my work would soon come back with her careful edits and recommendations, but for now I felt the heady freedom of a bird newly escaped from her cage. I was looking forward to a delicious dinner and a cheerful evening with friends.

My good friend and our town’s favorite doctor, Seth Hazlitt, and I entered the lobby of the Hill House, a charming hotel in our small coastal town of Cabot Cove, Maine.

“Mrs. Fletcher, Doctor Hazlitt, it is so nice to see you again,” Joseph, the maître d’ of the hotel’s main dining room, greeted us with his customary courtesy. As usual his silver hair was combed neatly and his dark suit and white dress shirt were spotless and wrinkle free. “I understand you are dining with Sheriff and Mrs. Metzger. They arrived a few minutes ago. Please, this way.”

We followed him through the spacious dining room past a few dozen tables, many already occupied, and given the time of evening, I was sure the rest soon would be. Every table was covered with a pristine white cloth and decorated with a small glass vase holding fresh greenery standing between two tea candles in the center. As we moved through the room, I took in the atmosphere and felt myself relax with every step.

I leaned in and said to Seth, “Oh, this was such a good idea.”

“Ayuh”-Seth nodded-“I happen to agree but I admit that I take no credit for this particular dinner. Maureen Metzger was the one who said we needed to get you out of the house and away from that danged computer. I was merely the person who took on the assignment. And, speaking of the evening’s organizer, here is the woman herself.”

Both Mort and Maureen Metzger rose to greet us as we reached the left rear corner of the dining room, which-as Joseph was well aware-was my favorite spot because the table was next to a wide window overlooking the hotel’s garden of seasonal flowers. Gracious six-foot-tall wooden lampposts shed warm lighting on the hardy autumn asters of various shades of blue, purple, and brilliant red. The view added to the relaxing atmosphere.

Maureen flung her arms around me. “Jessica, thank you for coming along to dinner tonight. I have been complaining to Mort that Cabot Cove has been so boring these past few weeks. Why, it’s been almost as though you were on one of your trips to New York or Boston, or goodness knows where.” She released me from her bear-hug grip and asked, “So tell us, is the murder mystery that has been keeping you typing away on your computer finally finished?”

With a broad smile I said, “Yes! Finished and sent off to my editor in New York a few hours ago.”

Maureen clapped her hands, and Mort surprised me when he said, “Well, I’d say that calls for champagne.” He looked directly at Joseph who indicated the handsome dark-haired young man who had appeared at his side. “I’m sure you will be pleased to have Shane as your server this evening and I will send the sommelier to your table at once.”

Greeting us with his always infectious smile, Shane distributed menus around the table. “How is everyone this evening? Mrs. Fletcher, I must say you have been missed these past few weeks. I had the pleasure of serving Mrs. Molloy and Mrs. Cormier for luncheon several days ago and Mrs. Molloy mentioned that they’d hoped you would be able to join them but your writing kept you busy at home. Mrs. Cormier said she was sure you would have enjoyed the crab salad, so I’m pleased to tell you that we have it on tonight’s menu as an appetizer, should you feel so inclined.”

“Well, I’m certainly inclined, even if Jessica isn’t. Now let’s see what I want for my main course.” Seth opened his menu.

I joined Seth in ordering the crab salad appetizer while Maureen decided on French onion soup and Mort chose mussels in butter sauce.

For the main course Seth ordered his favorite, the London broil, and Mort joined him while Maureen said she had been thinking about the chicken Milanese all afternoon. Shane smiled at me and noted that I hadn’t opened my menu. “Mrs. Fletcher, I suspect you will be having your usual grilled salmon, or are you feeling more adventuresome this evening?”

“Shane, you have read my mind. Grilled salmon it is, and for my side dish, the charred Brussels sprouts with warmed honey glaze sounds delicious.”

The sommelier, an older gentleman who introduced himself as Max, and to my memory had never appeared in the dining room without his pristine white gloves, was standing nearby waiting for his turn to present our options. He stepped up as soon as Shane had collected our menus and hurried off to the kitchen.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I couldn’t help but overhear the mention of the possibility of champagne-“

I interrupted and smiled as sweetly as I could at Mort who had suggested the champagne earlier. “As much as I appreciate everyone wanting to help me celebrate that my book is on the way to my editor, I really think a chardonnay would be a much better choice considering the salmon I ordered.” I thought that was kinder than telling Mort that champagne was far from one of my favorite drinks.

Mort looked somewhat flustered when Maureen clapped her hands and said, “Chardonnay would be perfect with my chicken.” But he cheered up instantly when she continued, “I just noticed Jim and Susan Shevlin come in and while Jim was doing his usual table-hopping, handshaking, ‘I’m happy to be your mayor’ routine, Susan was moving through the room ever so slowly to be sure that everyone gets a nice long look at the gorgeous mauve dress she is wearing. Looks like satin and chiffon to me. Pretty ritzy. As it happens, when I met Susan at the Fruit and Veg this afternoon, she mentioned that today is their wedding anniversary. I suppose they’re here for a celebratory dinner. Why don’t we send them a nice bottle of champagne?”

“Honey, that’s a terrific idea.” Mort patted Maureen’s arm as he turned to the sommelier. “What do you suggest?”

Max looked pensive for a minute as though he was mentally rifling through file cards, then he said, “I recall that for Mrs. Shevlin’s birthday, Mayor Shevlin hosted a party in one of the private rooms and Taittinger’s Brut was his champagne of choice for the birthday toast.”

“Of course! I should have remembered,” I said without thinking.

My three companions turned to me with surprise etched on their faces. “I don’t recall a birthday party,” Seth grumbled.

Oh dear. Too late, I recalled that none of my tablemates had been at the party. I wish I had realized that a scant minute earlier. “Oh”-I flapped my hand, desperately trying to dismiss Susan’s party as a nonevent-“if memory serves, Jim made a few last-minute phone calls and, well, Eve Simpson picked me up and we drove here to wish Susan a happy birthday. It was all over in an hour.” When no one said a word, I smiled at Max and said, “I do remember that Susan enjoyed the Taittinger’s, so I agree that is what we should send.”

“And a bottle of chardonnay for this table, if that’s all right with everyone?” Maureen looked uncertainly at Mort and Seth.

Seth smiled and said, “A bit fancy for me tonight. I think I’d rather have a local beer.”

Shane, who had returned and was now standing behind Max, stepped forward and said, “I’ll be glad to take that order, Doctor.”

“Any chance of getting an Allagash sour ale?”

Shane’s smile broadened, as if Seth’s request was just what he had been waiting to hear. “The bartender told me that he’d received a fresh order direct from the Allagash plant in Portland earlier this afternoon. Would you like a glass?”

“Make that two,” Mort said, holding up his fingers in the victory sign.

Shane nodded, then both he and Max went off to find our libations just as Jospeh came in our direction leading a group of lively young women wearing jeans in various shades of denim. Two of them wore brightly colored touristy sweatshirts with Maine printed across the front in big bold letters. Every one of them was carrying a half-full stemmed glass of whatever they had been drinking at the bar. From their high-pitched laughter, I surmised that the glasses in their hands were not anyone’s first drink of the evening.

I was gratified to see Joseph turn off before he reached us and lead the women to the opposite side of the room. He guided them as far away as possible from any of the tables that were already occupied. It crossed my mind to pity anyone who came in during the next half hour or so hoping for a nice peaceful dinner, as they would likely be seated at one of the tables nearer what was bound to be a noisy one.

Shane came back to the table with our appetizers and two ales for Seth and Mort. As he was serving us, he said, “Here comes Max with the champagne you ordered for Mr. and Mrs. Shevlin’s anniversary. I am sure they will enjoy it.”

All eyes swiveled to the Shevlins’ table so we could see how surprised and pleased they were. As soon as Max filled two fluted glasses, both Susan and Jim raised their drinks to us before toasting each other.

Shane slipped away when Max brought our bottle of chardonnay. While he decanted it, he said, “That was such a nice idea of yours, Mrs. Metzger. I have to tell you that when I presented the Taittinger’s Brut to the Shevlins, Mrs. Shevlin actually teared up and kept saying how kind it was that someone wanted them to celebrate their anniversary in style. Between you and me, the mayor got a little uncomfortable. I think he was kind of sorry he hadn’t thought of ordering it first.”

“I can understand that,” Mort said and then shrugged. “Won’t stop him from enjoying it, though.”

“I would guess not,” Max replied. He asked if he could get us anything else and when we declined, he told us to enjoy our evening and withdrew.

Shane came along to check if we were all right and he deposited an extra butter dish next to the breadbasket that held slices of a fresh baguette and savory rosemary and thyme bread. He cast an eye over our plates and said, “I see you’re enjoying your appetizers. I will be back shortly.”

When Shane turned and walked directly to the table where two of the four tourists were waving their empty glasses at him, Seth said, “If we have to share our waiter with those rowdy girls, getting served our dinner could take a lot longer than usual.”

Maureen laughed. “Oh, weren’t we all young and silly once upon a time? Come on, you have to admit it.”

“I may have been silly,” Seth huffed, “but as I recall, I was always well mannered. Now you just look at that.”

We all turned to see a petite dark-haired girl wearing a bright purple Maine sweatshirt get up from the table and begin to walk toward the door. She staggered against the back of another patron’s chair, mumbled something, which I assumed was an apology, and then she lurched for a few more steps until she reached the Shevlins’ table, where she lost her balance and landed with one arm on the table and her head on Jim’s shoulder. This time everyone in the dining room could hear her apologize before she righted herself and stumbled through the main door.

Shane came through the service entrance with our entrées, and as he served them and cleared our appetizer plates, I pointed across the room and asked what the young ladies were drinking. Shane smiled. “As tourists often do, they ordered Remember the Maine cocktails.”

Seth’s eyebrows shot up. “No wonder they’re getting so loud and more than a little sloppy. When you add the alcohol by volume of vermouth to the alcohol by volume of rye and then camouflage the taste with cherry-flavored liqueur, which has an alcohol volume of its own, well, I can only hope none of them are driving tonight.”

“Not a problem, Doctor,” Shane said. “They’re guests here at the Hill House. I know because they’re charging their drinks and their dinner to their rooms. I checked with Ned at the bar and he had already verified their occupancy with the front desk.”

Mort gave a sigh of relief. “That’s good news. I was afraid I was going to have to follow them to the parking lot and take away someone’s car keys.”

My salmon was grilled to perfection, and by the silence for the first few minutes after Shane left us, I suspected everyone else’s meal was just as satisfying. Suddenly we were interrupted by gales of laughter at the table across the way and we all involuntarily turned in that direction. Maureen pointed out exactly what I had noticed. “The fourth girl. She hasn’t come back.”

She and I both stood.

Seth said, “Really, ladies? Her friends aren’t looking for her, why should you?”

“Doc’s right,” Mort said.

His wife snapped back, “Don’t be silly, Mort. Her friends are probably in the same shape as she is. It is likely they don’t even realize how long she’s been gone.”

That was enough to ensure that neither man said a word as Maureen and I left the table and went toward the dining room entrance where we found Joseph at his station. When we asked if he had seen the girl in the purple sweatshirt, he directed us to the nearest restroom.

“She went in there some time ago and I didn’t see her come back to the dining room, but I did notice that her walk was somewhat shaky, so she may have decided it was wisest for her to go to her bedroom. Perhaps I should check . . .” Joseph fretted.

Murder, She Wrote: The Body in the Trees by Jessica Fletcher & Terrie Farley Moran

About Murder, She Wrote: The Body in the Trees

Murder, She Wrote: The Body in the Trees Cozy Mystery 62nd in Series Setting – Maine Publisher : Berkley Publication date : December 2, 2025 Hardcover Print length : 272 pages ISBN-10 : 0593820215 ISBN-13 : 978-0593820216 Digital ISBN-13 : 978-0593820223 ASIN : B0DYYYSJLR

The newest entry in the USA Today bestselling Murder, She Wrote series. It’s leaf-peeping season in Cabot Cove, but for someone, it’s killing season! A quartet of friends from Florida have come to Maine to experience a New England autumn, complete with hiking in the woods and fishing. When one of them goes missing, the town rallies to find the presumably lost but otherwise safe tourist. But when newspaper editor Dan Andrews is biking on the trail along a ridge, he looks down and sees a leg caught in the branches of a tree. Count on Jessica Fletcher to uncover the secret reason the victim came to town . . . and how it led to her murder.

About the Authors