Jessica Fletcher learns that exercise can be murder in this entry in the USA Today bestselling Murder, She Wrote series. Former Cabot Cove Gazette editor Evelyn Phillips is back in town because she is worried about her old friend Bertha Mae Cormier. Evelyn invites Jessica to come with her to visit Bertha Mae, who is a bit dithery but not more so than Jessica remembers her being in recent years—except when she begins talking about her charming young neighbor, Martin Terranova. Terranova teaches yoga and meditation in his pool house and it soon becomes clear he has given Bertha Mae romantic visions. Sheriff Metzger’s wife, Maureen, is a regular at Terranova’s class and confirms to Jessica that he is exceptionally solicitous to his wealthy older clients, especially Bertha Mae. Jessica and Evelyn accompany Maureen to a class, and Martin’s behavior convinces them that he is after Bertha Mae’s money. When Terranova turns up dead in his weight room, what at first blush seems to be an accident soon proves to be murder, and Jessica must put her investigative skills to the test when Evelyn becomes the prime suspect. 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 pedaled my bicycle along the streets of my hometown, heading for the wharf that edged the inlet of the Gulf of Maine that gave Cabot Cove its name. I marveled at how bright and warm the sunshine was for this early in the spring. Here we were, barely past April Fools' Day, and it felt as though we were moving rapidly from sherpa-lined-jacket weather to sweatshirt weather. Of course, we Mainers knew better than to expect a soft and easy slide from winter to spring. I'd be keeping my coats, jackets, scarves, hats, and gloves handy for some weeks to come. I parked my bicycle in the rack at the north end of the row of storefronts that lined the street above the wharf. I stood for a moment, watching a sight I never tired of-all the activity that went along with boating and fishing. People carrying fishing poles and nets were scurrying about waving and joking with one another. I knew that the fishermen and lobstermen who worked these waters for a living had cast off hours ago, so those who remained on the dock this late in the morning were more relaxed. Their goal was a day of fishing that, if they were lucky, would result in some bragging rights along with a nice dinner of crispy fried flounder. I looked at my watch, murmured, "Oh dear," and strode quickly toward Mara's Luncheonette, where, undoubtedly, my good friend and everyone's favorite town doctor, Seth Hazlitt, was sitting, tapping his fingers impatiently on the Formica tabletop, because, according to my watch, I was nearly ten minutes late. Two fishermen, sporting colorful fishing lures pinned to their bucket hats, were coming out of Mara's, and the smells of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon wafted through the doorway. I thanked the man who held the door for me and wished them both "good fishing." They smiled in reply. I spotted Seth at a table toward the middle of the room. I was surprised to see he was sitting with Walter Hendon, our harbormaster, and Pierce Collymore, newly appointed chief of the Cabot Cove Fire Department. When the department's longtime chief Angus Billingsworth had announced he was retiring due to ill health, Collymore was among several out-of-town fire officials who applied for the job. Much to the chagrin of some of the locals who felt the job should go to a Cabot Cove resident, Collymore was selected by our mayor, Jim Shevlin, and the town council. He'd recently moved here from a village in northern Vermont. I slid into a vacant chair and apologized to Seth for being late. "But I am glad to see that Walter and the chief have been keeping you company." "Aye, Jessica." Walter's blue eyes crinkled as he laughed. "Doc here looked so forlorn; I couldn't walk by and leave him sitting by himself." "Hogwash," Seth blustered. "Not hogwash at all," the fire chief chimed in. "Never see you at a table that you don't have a crowd of your friends laughing and talking." I could see by the look on Seth's face that he was ready to argue over this simple truth, so I quickly changed the topic. "When I was parking my bicycle I couldn't help but notice that the harbor is really bustling for so early in the season. I'm guessing it's this springlike weather we are having." "Ayuh. You're right about that. Winter will be back right around Wednesday and the less hardy fishermen will be in rockers near the fireplace. 'Course those whose livelihood depends on the waters will be out there every day that doesn't feature cat-four hurricanes or severe winter blizzards." Pleased that he had defended the way of life that had been at the core of our town for centuries, Walter leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and