The Paris investigator is a perpetual-motion machine, and she’s almost always inappropriately dressed for highspeed galivanting: heels, miniskirts, leopard prints—Aimée never sacrifices style for convenience…. Thickening her plot like a French chef stirring coq au vin, Black throws a murdered scientist, a human-trafficking scandal, the Knights Templar, and revelations about Aimée’s long-presumed-dead mother into the pot, leaving readers nearly as breathless as Aimée, who hurtles her way toward the conclusion. Fans of the series know the formula and don’t mind a bit that it rarely varies. Paris never needs a new look, and neither does Aimée Leduc.