My family is pretty normal, except for Uncle Harrison. Twenty years ago, he cut contact with the rest of the family, and now, out of the blue, he’s inviting my sister and me up to New Hampshire for the weekend. What’s that all about? We don’t know him. If he wants to reconcile with the family, he ought to be reaching out to Dad and Grandpa. They’re his brother and father. They’re the ones he hurt back when he sent them letters telling them never to speak to him again. Oh, and I should mention that Uncle Harrison is filthy rich. And that someone was murdered in his mansion. But that’s a long story. All I can say about that here is that the butler did it. It’s true. The butler is the murderer. Everything else about Uncle Harrison is a mystery.