Dear Diary,

It should have been fun, Christmas in July in the mountains; we planned skiing, even if it was for Aunt P to have all the papers sorted so she could sell the mine. The mine was co-owned by my Uncle Edward, Aunt P's late husband. Such a sweet man, who idolised Aunt P and she adored him. When we got there one of the former foremen of the mine, Len Forster, had died, seemingly from a heart attack but no doctor could be brought up to the house as the snow was getting worse. Mac had come with us and to help Len's wife, Birdie, find some sense in her husband's death she offered to look at the body – well I offered her services – and we found (yes I had to look too!) burn marks on his fingers and burn holes in his shoes, it seemed Len had been electrocuted. Murder!

One murder.

We unpacked and Dot phoned Hugh to say we had arrived safely, though there was one person dead. As far as I was concerned it was up to us to solve this murder, the coppers from Jamieson, which is the nearest, couldn't get to us because of the worsening weather.

We all had cards in our rooms, all related to the 12 days of Christmas, I should have known this was a clue, but until we had more deaths they just seemed like a rather sweet touch. Sadly it was a rather cruel touch – the mine was closed because of a collapse years ago, killing all who were underground. However, it came to light, after someone made an attempt on Aunt P's life, that when the mine collapse Aunt P and Uncle Edward were there and she could hear the miners singing this particular carol – the cards were a dig at her, they were also the order in which each of us was to be killed.

Len was only the start, his wife was killed, Vera, wife of the mine engineer at the time of the collapse in 1919 died, another of the men there at the time was murdered – in the hen house but, dear diary, this was a red herring, we all thought it was Nicholas, Vera's second husband, his face was destroyed by a shotgun blast and I identified him by his clothing, but it was Quentin – his toes had been cut off so Nicholas' shoes would fit him – yuk!.

It was all such a mess, all because of greed. Nicholas said Uncle Edward had robbed him because he closed the mine when the men were killed, the men Aunt P heard singing that fateful night, they had survived the initial collapse and the youngest down there, Laurie, had been sent up to alert them to their plight. Nicholas smothered him while Uncle Edward and the other masters went to call for help, then he set a charge of gelignite and made sure none of them got out alive!

Vera and the mine engineer had a daughter, Isobel, an angry teenager who hated her step-father. I can't say I took to her, maybe I'm being callous, but after her father's death – tragic though it was – you would think she would like her mother to have some happiness, though she was right not to trust him. It would have been better if she had been a bit nicer to the rest of us, I mean Jane has had it tough and she is quite a lovely girl but Isobel seems to hate everybody.

It turns out that Nicholas was paying Len and Birdie to dig the mine, to get to the seam that originally caused the collapse, Birdie was paying Isobel to keep her mouth shut, Jack and I ... oh yes, I forgot to say; because Dot had phoned Hugh, he and Jack came up to the house, the roads closing behind them, and while I was initially surprised I shouldn't have been, and I was glad they were there. They did become targets of the murderer (Nicholas) though no serious attempt was made on Hugh's life Mac was hit over the head when she tried to ski to Jamieson for help and it was then we noticed fresh boards over the entrance to the mine.

When we eventually worked out what was happening and found the entrance to the mine in the house we found Nicholas down there. He tried to shoot me, after knocking Jack out temporarily, making me dance to bullets aimed just by my feet – my card was nine ladies dancing. He used Jack's police revolver but didn't count the shots and ran out of ammunition, however he had my gun and aimed two more shots at my feet and no 9 at my head. I threw my bag at him and he dropped it, right by Jack who was coming round and waiting for his moment. Jack took his chance and stood up, aiming the gun at Nicholas and we took him back up to the house. Killing Len and Quentin, and Birdy and Vera was to cover his tracks the rest of us – just for 'his own amusement'.

I usually say I don't need a man to protect me, but I was glad Jack was there, he always seems to be where he should be – at my side – without smothering me.

When we got home, Jane had arrived back from the continent. I had no idea, but darling Mr B and the Raggers had set about celebrating Christmas for her, a tree, lovely food – I am so blessed with my staff and friends.

So, we had a lovely party with carols – not '12 days' – and drinks and Jane waving a piece of mistletoe about, demanding people should kiss, Mac and Cec, Bert and Aunt P, 'twas a peck on the cheek but so sweet – Bert is such a softy. She waved it over mine and Jack's heads though I said my kisses couldn't be compelled with sprigs of parasitic greenery – d'you know what Jack said, seriously, he told me it was 'hemi-parasitic, of the genus Viscum', dear heaven he even makes the Latin genus of a plant sound so incredibly sexy – and how come he knows that? Who is Jack Robinson? He plays the piano, knows Latin plant names, speaks German, quotes Shakespeare, wears perfectly tailored suits – there is so much more to my Inspector than meets the eye. I shall have to investigate - thoroughly.