Jumping right into the middle of the action, this cheeky, sarky, accidental disaster of an adventure hits the spot when the hankering for unravelling an absurd conundrum of twists and shocks comes a-knocking.

Our boy is a thief, he won’t deny it to us, but he plays to everyone else as the decent upstanding author—which he also is, and a respectable one, at that. He makes colossal errors in judgement because of his irresistible impulses towards satisfying unhealthy curiosities, but they fuel his passion for his other reputable profession. And his ability to transform mistakes into opportunity keep his pockets well-stuffed.

The one-liners are whips of wit, and Charlie is at once a charmer and a gobsmacking fool, deep down decent and still the dirtiest of scoundrels, honest and upright, while yet double-crossing the clandestine criminals in his midst. You might figure out this whodunit early on, but the twist of what actually got done leaves you guessing till the end.

And then there’s Victoria…the woman who truly knows him, though if she saw him in the street, she’d walk right past him, and yet, in her, he places all his trust. She is the only one among a cast of characters who delivers a sense of authenticity on a stage of deceptive actors. As the plot unfurls, Victoria is the voice of reason and truth, of good sense—whether or not Charlie listens to her wise advice is another thing…

And that ending! A tip of the hat to all ‘cosy mystery’ lovers, it’s a one-room reveal-all wrap-up with a hook, line and surprise; a cross between Poirot and Angela Lansbury’s method for murder-mystery solving.

See you in Paris, Charlie.