'Did you say he was ill?' asked John from behind.
'Nothing much. Wanted some mince pies. Paulina said they were unlucky before Christmas, so of course he ate five or six.'
Good old Uncle Willie - rich, truculent and seemingly propped up by his fierce willpower alone - has come to stay with the Redpaths for the holidays. It is just their luck for him to be found dead the morning after Christmas day, dressed in his Santa Claus costume, seemingly poisoned by his favourite chocolates. Or was there something sinister in the mince pies? If so, was it the ones stashed in his room or those sent to him mysteriously by post? More importantly, since his will was recently redrafted, who stands to gain by this unseasonable crime?