Murder On the Champ de Mars

p. 56  “‘Always start from the target’s last know location’ – a dictum drilled into her by her father.”

A friend and I share a love a mysteries of a certain type – “Aimée Leduc Investigations” is one of these, and we have been sharing the books for years. Back and forth. I carry them up our street, and she carries them back down to her house. Or, vice versa. Unfortunately during the past few years, we have become increasingly dissatisfied with the stories. I can only speak to my own disaffection, on this occasion.

When I begin one of these titles, I become Aimée. Trashy chic. Cool. Barely sleeping, smoking, downing espresso one after another at a corner dive. Living the bohemian life with my business partner René, I face down everything that comes my way – thugs, aristocrats, and sexy men. Scared? Yes. Brave. Certainly.

Yet, recently my alter ego has started to grow-up. Dare I say it? Mature. Tant pis. A baby? Leaky breasts? Having gone through this in my own life, reading about it from a favorite character chosen to transport me from my American working librarian life to a European hip one…well, I just can’t hang out with this wild child any longer. Aimee would say, “Desole.”

Black, Cara. Murder On the Champ de Mars. New York: SoHo Crime, 2015. Print.

For a list of Leduc mysteries click HERE. The early ones I thoroughly enjoyed, especially Murder in the Marais (1999).

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