My name is Ernest Cunningham. I’m not a detective. I just happen to have a knack for what makes mysteries – and murderers – tick. I’d hoped, this Christmas, that any killers out there might be willing to take a break for the holidays. I was wrong. So here I am, backstage at the Christmas show of world-famous magician Rylan Blaze, whose benefactor has just been murdered. From the magician’s assistant to the hypnotist, my suspects are all professional tricksters. Masters in the art of misdirection. My clues are even more of a mystery: a suspect covered in blood, with no memory of how it got there. A murder committed without setting foot inside the room where it happens. And an advent calendar. Because, you know. It’s Christmas.