Mordecai Tremaine accepts the invitation to spend Christmas in Sherbroome out of curiosity more than anything else. Almost immediately, he discovers that nothing is as it seems, and that more than a few of his fellow guests are cagey - if not openly hostile. There's no surfeit of Christmas spirit, that's for sure; what little there might have been disappears promptly upon the discovery of a body, clad as Father Christmas no less, at the foot of the Christmas tree.
I haven't curled up with an Agatha Christie-style mystery in some time and when Francis Duncan's Murder for Christmas showed up on BookBub, I couldn't resist. What better to read in the run-up to that most festive of days? And if Duncan's conclusion wasn't quite as surprising as Dame Christie's, there's no mistaking the genre. Similarly, the setting: not for a minute can the reader forget that this is England, in the years of sleepy villages, great houses, and roaring fires.
Readers who love a classic murder, and especially a classic English murder, will spend happy hours with Murder for Christmas.
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