I was immensely grateful that despite the gruesome way my husband died, he’d done it with his clothes on.

Anthony Wistern is wealthy beyond imagination. Fragrant wife, gaggle of photogenic children, French chateau, Cotswold manor, plethora of mistresses, penchant for cutting moral corners, tick tick tick tick tick tick.

Unfortunately for him, he’s also dead. Suddenly poised to inherit his fortune, each member of the family falls under suspicion. And that’s when the lying starts.