Hello? Can you hear me? Probably not. I'm Dr Miriam Price . . . and I'm dead.

The local police, who couldn't investigate their own nostrils, think I drank myself into an early grave. The nerve! I was murdered. I was just too plastered to know whodunnit, that's all.

Unless I prove to my inquest this week that my death was no 'misadventure', I'm condemned to 50 years in Limbo. I have to find my killer - but I can't communicate with any living human. Well, there's one, but she barely qualifies . . . Winnie - my neighbour and nemesis. It seems the dying can interact with the dead, which is helpful news for me, if not stellar for Winnie. Oh well. She'll live. Maybe.

Suspects? How long have you got? My saintly husband, who'd reached his limit? My best friend, who was anything but? My secret lover, or his wife? My disgruntled colleague? The mother who wrongly holds me responsible for her child's death? Professor Plum? Your guess is as good as mine.

So Winnie - slap on your deerstalker and strap on your granny pants. Let's catch a killer! Assuming we don't kill each other first . .