A classic mystery for the festive season: mulled wine, mince pies...and murder.
Mordecai Tremaine, former tobacconist and perennial lover of romance novels, has been invited to spend Christmas in the sleepy village of Sherbroome at the country retreat of one Benedict Grame.
Arriving on Christmas Eve, he finds that the revelries are in full flow - but so too are tensions amongst the assortment of guests.
Midnight strikes and the party-goers discover that it's not just presents nestling under the tree...there's a dead body too. A dead body that bears a striking resemblance to Father Christmas.
With the snow falling and the suspicions flying, it's up to Mordecai to sniff out the culprit - and prevent someone else from getting murder for Christmas.
'Kept guessing to the end, I am left wondering why it has taken so long to discover Francis Duncan With some 20 crime novels to his credit, a relaunch seems long overdue' Daily Mail
'Who can resist a seasonal whodunnit?This is a bah-humbugs ideal read' Lady
'The booknods towards Agatha Christie but retains a crackling atmosphere of dread and horror that will chill the heart however warm your fireside' Metro
'Awonderfully cosy readand agreat way to while away a winters evening' Nudge
'This isa golden age murder mystery thatll certainly appeal to lovers of Agatha Christie or anyone who enjoys a good, old-fashioned whodunit This is a book that could be read at any time of year but would certainly makeperfect festive reading.It has humour, excellent characterisation and a gentle tone that would sit well following the after-Queens Speech nap' crimefictionlover
Francis Duncan is the pseudonym for William Underhill, who was born in 1918. He lived virtually all his life in Bristol and was a scholarship boy boarder at Queen Elizabeths Hospital school. Due to family circumstances he was unable to go to university and started work in the Housing Department of Bristol City Council. Writing was always important to him and very early on he published articles in newspapers and magazines. His first detective story was published in 1936.
In 1938 he married Sylvia Henly. Although a conscientious objector, he served in the Royal Army Medical Corps in World War II, landing in France shortly after D-Day. After the war he trained as a teacher and spent the rest of his life in education, first as a primary school teacher and then as a lecturer in a college of further education. In the 1950s he studied for an external economics degree from London University. No mean feat with a family to support; his daughter, Kathryn, was born in 1943 and his son, Derek, in 1949.
Throughout much of this time he continued to write detective fiction from sheer inner necessity, but also to supplement a modest income. He enjoyed foreign travel, particularly to France, and took up golf on retirement. He died of a heart attack shortly after celebrating his fiftieth wedding anniversary in 1988.
