Police Constable Hamish Macbeth was fighting his own Christmas blues. It was the week before Christmas and bitter cold weather held the countryside in its iron grip around the Highlands of Scotland and the village of Lochdubh. He missed his family, who were vacationing in Florida. Hamish's family were unusual in the Highlands because they had always celebrated Christmas with a turkey, tree, lights, and presents. In many parts of the Highlands the old spirit of John Knox still lingered, blasting anyone with the threat of hellfire for even thinking of celebrating this heathen festival. For as every good Calvinist knew, Christmas was an old Roman festival. It was work as usual for Hamish, who had the entire Christmas shift. One of the more irritating complaints came from the cranky Mrs. Gallagher. This time her cat had gone missing. A neighboring town, a bit less rigid about the holiday, reported missing Christmas lights. For the first time, the village council had voted to put up lights alongmain street. Now they had been stolen from the community center along with a missing tree. Fortunately, there's no assault or murder cases, but