Christmas Eve and the Lee family’s reunion is shattered by a deafening crash of furniture, and a high pitched wailing scream. Upstairs, the tyrannical Simeon Lee lies dead in a pool of blood, his throat slashed.
When Hercule Poirot offers to assist, he finds an atmosphere not of mourning but of mutual suspicion. It seems everyone had their own reason to hate the old man…
You yeamed for a good violeu murciar with lots of blood”. So this is your special story — written for you.’ –Agatha Christie