The twelfth Aimée Leduc investigation set in Paris Lost secrets of the Parisian Knights Templar, dangerous Chinatown sweatshops, dirty policemen, and botched affairs of the heart—the 12th Aimée Leduc mystery is the most exciting yet! Aimée Leduc is happy her longtime business partner René has found a girlfriend. It’s not her fault if she can’t suppress her doubts about the relationship. And her misgivings may not be far off the mark: Meizi disappears during a Chinatown dinner to take a phone call and never returns to the restaurant. Minutes later, the body of a young man, a science prodigy and volunteer at the nearby Musée, is found shrink-wrapped in an alleyway—with Meizi’s photo in his wallet. Aimée does not like this scenario one bit, but she can’t figure out how the murder is connected to Meizi’s disappearance. The dead genius was sitting on a discovery that has France’s secret service keeping tabs on him. Now they’re keeping tabs on Aimée. What has she gotten herself into? And can she get herself—and her friends—back out of it alive? Praise for Murder at the Lanterne Rouge “Black expertly weaves the social issues of Chinese sweatshops and illegal immigrants with current science and computer technology, 14th-century Templars and guilds, and the local police and French secret service.” — Columbus Dispatch "Outstanding . . . Readers will relish realistic villains and an evocative atmosphere that begs for a trip to the City of Lights." — Publishers Weekly , Starred Review “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.” — Booklist “The pace accelerates as fast as Aimee’s Vespa. The details of the series, Aimee’s love of vintage couture, her love life, and the specter of her mother’s disappearance, all make welcome appearances here. Murder at the Lanterne Rouge is wonderfully plotted, and Cara Black ties together the past and present with élan.” —New York Journal of Books Praise for the Aimée Leduc series "Transcendently, seductively, irresistibly French." —Alan Furst "Wry, complex, sophisticated, intensely Parisian . . . One of the very best heroines in crime fiction today." —Lee Child "So authentic you can practically smell the fresh baguettes and coffee." —Val McDermid Cara Black is the author of twenty books in the New York Times bestselling Aimée Leduc series and the thriller Three Hours in Paris . She has received multiple nominations for the Anthony and Macavity Awards, and her books have been translated into German, Norwegian, Japanese, French, Spanish, Italian, and Hebrew. She lives in San Francisco with her husband and visits Paris frequently. Friday Evening Too small for a bomb, Aimée Leduc thought, nudging with her high-heeled toe at the tiny red box on the cold landing outside Leduc Detective’s office. No card. Curious, she picked up the red gift-wrapped box, sniffed. Nothing floral. A secret admirer? The timed hallway light clicked off, plunging the landing into darkness. She shivered, closed the frosted glass door behind her, and hit the light switch. The chandelier’s crystal drops caught the light and reflected in the old patinated mirror over the fireplace. For once the high-ceilinged nineteenth-century office was warm, too warm. The new boiler had gone into overdrive. Her nose ran at the switch from the chill January evening to a toasty, warm office. She set down her shopping bags—January was the season of soldes , the big sales. She’d blown her budget. Et alors , yogurt and carrots at her desk for the next week. She slung her coat over the chair and noticed a chip on her rouge - noir -lacquered pinkie. Zut . She’d have to spring for a manicure. The office phone trilled, startling her. “Tell me you found Meizi’s birthday present, Aimée,” came the breathless voice of René, her business partner at Leduc Detective. “The damned jeweler screwed up the delivery.” “Small red box? You mean it’s not for me?” she joked. She shook the box and heard a rattle. Maybe those jade earrings she’d seen him looking at. “You’re serious about Meizi? I mean, that kind of serious?” “One day you’ll meet your soul mate, too, Aimée.” Soul mate? He’d known Meizi what, two months? But Aimée bit her tongue. So unlike René to rush into something. A surge of protectiveness hit her. She ought to check this girl out, see what she could learn from a quick computer bac