Santa's dead. Found floating in Lake Michigan. There's only one witness, but everybody's a suspect. Literally. Well, sort of figuratively. It's up to two rag-tag, self-hating, homophobic, closeted, gay cops with something to prove and nothing to lose to solve the case. Or not. It's less of a "whodunnit" and more of a "who-cares-who-dunnit," Like Agatha Christie cross-pollinated with Chekhov. Only totally different. You know what, jeez, let me start again: What do you get when you cross procedural drama satire, post-modern farce, and a completely negligible amount of Christmas material? I don't know. But I know that when you set it all to the musical stylings of Phil Collins and the virulent urban legends that surround his songs you get Chinese Whispers: Christmas in the Air Tonight.