Based on the hit mobile game, a cozy murder mystery set in 1920s Paris by a USA Today bestselling author, perfect for fans of Richard Osman and Agatha Christie. June’s friend has been brutally murdered and the police have the wrong man, can she solve the case before the killer catches up to her?
Paris, 1922. The marriage between the Auclair and Picard families is the talk of the town. June can’t wait to attend the engagement party with her friends, Nate and Jack. But Nate has an ulterior motive: he’s there to stop the wedding. Before he can complete his task, he’s stabbed in the chest with Jack’s knife. Jack is arrested, but June knows he wouldn’t hurt a fly.
In this throwback to the classic whodunnits of Agatha Christie, June must find the real killer and clear Jack’s name. As she becomes embroiled deeper and deeper into a corrupt web of Parisian old money, high society and politics, she uncovers deadly secrets. Can June solve the case before the killer strikes again?
Release date:
March 17, 2026
Publisher:
Titan Books
Print pages:
288
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June Parker hadn’t realized how much she had missed the vibrancy of Paris until she stepped off the train at Gare du Nord, luggage bag clutched in one hand, hatbox in the other, and a familiar excitement began churning through her. As she exited the station, drinking in its grand facade with ornate statues and large arched windows, she merged onto the city streets jammed with luggage porters, street vendors, and Parisians on their way to work. The smell of coffee and fresh croissants wafted out from nearby cafés, mingling with the crisp fall air. June loved to travel, and the world was filled with wondrous destinations, but Paris had a special place in her heart. And she wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Recently, Le Figaro had run an article marveling at how Paris, La Ville Lumière, the City of Light, was the place to be in 1922.
As June navigated the busy streets, she soaked in the hive of activity swirling around her. An artist planted at an easel by the news kiosk was capturing the magic of the city with each stroke of her brush. Jazz music spilled from vibrant, smoky clubs as if unaware (or unconcerned) that the night had morphed into day. Bustling cafés overflowed with patrons, and June knew that if she wanted to see a fashion show, all she had to do was stroll down the Boulevard Saint-Germain where chic women in dropped-waist dresses and cloche hats would be gliding past, or, as was June’s preference, women in high-waisted trousers with silk blouses. A new era wasn’t just unfolding—it had officially arrived, and what a spectacular era it was turning out to be.
June’s time on Orchid Island in New York had been well spent catching up with friends and family, reinvigorating her for this next chapter. And given she had left her previous nursing job, she had decided to take some more time enjoying Paris before finding another position. Sometimes one just needed a little joie de vivre. She couldn’t help but notice that her new hat was garnering appreciative glances; she would have to write her sister Clare and pass on the compliments. It was such a lovely gift: a stunning magenta cloche hat with a teal ribbon and green peacock feather. Everyone mentioned how it complemented her black hair and blue eyes, not to mention her stylish bob. June was madly in love with the hat, it embodied her inner sense of adventure. Only someone who recognized that in her could have given her such a perfect gift.
“Regardez où vous allez, madame,” an approaching man huffed as his luggage bag collided with hers. Watch where you’re going, lady.
“Je m’excuse,” she called out cheerfully, but he was already striding away, hurrying to wherever his destination may be. Her French was proficient, but many Parisians switched to English once they heard her accent—a mix between her London upbringing and New York, likely influenced by her move to Orchid Island as a child. During the Great War, she had worked in field hospitals with British, French, American, and Canadian nurses. Their conversations shifted seamlessly between English and French, but most often it
was a mix of the two.
At the next corner June waited with a clump of others to cross the street, as horse-drawn carriages jostled for space amongst automobiles, trams, and bicycles. There was a kind of beauty in the chaos, music in the clatter of hooves and footsteps, and hum of voices. Apart from settling into her flat and resting up from her long journey, June had a free day ahead of her. Her dear friend Amelia Dumas was the only one who knew of her arrival. June had written her with the details, and Amelia wrote back straight away, expressing her delight. They had first met in Paris at the joyous moment it was announced that the war had ended. Amelia had graciously offered June a place to stay until she found her own flat, and they had been fast friends ever since. June was looking forward to catching up with her. Just as it was clear to cross the street, and June had made it safely to the other side, a gust of wind kicked up, threatening to blow away her hat. Instinctively, she reached up to steady it, which is when a tall and lanky man suddenly appeared beside her. She had barely registered his presence, when to her great shock he snatched the hat clean off her head and darted off.
“Hey!” she yelled, sprinting after him. “Stop, thief!” She was grateful for her trousers—they made chasing him much easier. But her cumbersome luggage bag slowed her down. “Arrêtez,” she yelled. “S’il vous plaît. Please. Stop!” If he heard her, he gave no indication, in fact he sped up. Before she knew it, he had rounded the next corner and disappeared from sight.
June was not about to give up; she would never forgive herself if she lost her sister’s precious gift. Buoyed by a burst of adrenaline, June careened around the corner—nearly crashing into the hat thief. He stood motionless, his head tilted slightly, as if bemused by her pursuit. Her magenta cloche sat at an absurd angle atop a closely shaved blond head, the stolen trophy displayed without an ounce of shame. June paused to catch her breath, willing her
beating heart to settle down. But before she could chastise this stranger, she heard a deep, familiar laugh, spilling out from somewhere nearby. Her stomach flipped. She would know that laugh anywhere.
“Avery Jackson Hayes,” she scolded, peering around the stranger. And there he was, Jack Hayes, leaning lazily against a doorway, peeling an apple with an elegant, pearl-handled knife. He looked at June in mock surprise. “Why, if it isn’t June Parker,” he said, flashing his trademark grin. “Fancy meeting you here, Juney.”
June couldn’t help but laugh as she shook her head. As he drew closer, the knife caught her eye, especially the monogram. Fancy black print with the initials A.J.H. Jack noticed her gaze and grinned. “It’s a gift,” he said, gesturing to the stranger. “From my friend the hat thief.”
“And whose idea was it for me to snatch it off this innocent woman’s head?” the hat thief asked with a grin. June listened as the two continued bantering. She had hoped Jack was still in Paris, but one never knew at any given moment where he might be. As a pilot he had the freedom to fly wherever his heart desired.
Even though their brief romance had not worked out, her heart still skipped a few beats whenever he was near. Yes, he was handsome, objectively so, with his wavy brown hair, warm brown eyes and infectious grin—but that wasn’t the only reason people, especially the fairer sex, were drawn to him. Jack Hayes exuded a magnetic energy that was hard to resist. They had met during the war, when June was having a turbulent day at the field hospital; tragically, one of her patients had just died. He was only seventeen. She needed a moment, and left her tent so she could find a quiet place to reflect. She’d been passing another tent when she saw Jack, getting a tattoo of all things. The instant their eyes met, she felt a connection. “What’s your name?” he said. “I’ll get it
tattooed right next to my heart.” And then to her surprise, June found herself pouring out her woes to this handsome stranger, spilling all the details about her patient, and her sorrow. Jack listened to every word. And although it would be several years before they would meet again, looking back, this was the beginning of a bond that could never be broken. To this day, June was ever so grateful for their friendship.
As they hugged the side of the nearest building to stay clear of pedestrians, June set down her luggage bag and tilted her head. “How did you know I would be here?”
Jack flashed a smile, exposing a dimple. “A little birdie told me.”
“A little birdie named Amelia, no doubt.” She smiled as she imagined Amelia plotting this encounter from her art gallery.
Jack winked and clapped the stranger on the back. “Nate, meet the friend I was telling you about, June Parker. Juney, this is my friend Nate Sparks. Or Eagle Eyes, as we called him during the war—he was always the first pilot to spot an enemy plane, no matter what direction they flew in from.”
“This one was no slouch either,” Nate said. “With mad flying skills and unmatched loyalty, Jack always had your back.” Nate lifted June’s hat, gave a playful bow, and gently placed it back on her head. “I apologize for the thievery, Mademoiselle, it was just a bit of fun.” Like Jack, Nate was an American, and charming.
“No harm done,” June said, straightening her hat. “Although I was seconds away from clobbering you with my luggage bag.”
“It suits you,” Jack said, gesturing to the hat as he reached to take her bag.
June raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you came all this way just to carry my luggage bag?”
“That and to convince you to join us for a celebration
this evening,” Jack said.
“What are we celebrating?”
“The fact that we’re alive,” Nate said. “Isn’t that enough reason to celebrate?”
Jack smiled and shook his head. “Old Nate here is a bad influence. I need someone to keep me on the straight and narrow.”
“I won’t deny it,” Nate said with a grin. “I’m here for a good time, not for a long time.”
June had to admit, it was hard to resist a night out with Jack. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“A surprise,” Nate interjected.
“He’s kept even me in the dark,” Jack said. “But knowing old Eagle Eyes, it will be a night we won’t soon forget.”
“I probably shouldn’t,” June said. “I’ve had a long trip.” Then again, she was bursting with adrenaline, especially after seeing Jack. “But it does sound lovely.”
“It will be lovely, and you have all day to rest,” Jack said. “We can escort you home and return to collect you an hour before sunset.”
Why not? They were young and in Paris. She could sleep the rest of the week if she wanted. “Yes,” she said. “I would love to join you.”
Jack brightened. “Yes.” His eyes gleamed with mischief as if the entire night ahead was hidden up his sleeve.
“Wear something fancy,” Nate added.
Jack nodded. “And don’t forget that hat.”CHAPTER 2
La Sirène du Fleuve, The River Siren, was a magnificent steamboat, a showboat if there ever was one, more decadent than any June had ever seen. Docked on the Seine, the grand vessel did not just garner attention, it commanded it. Although many of the streetlamps along the quay were now electric, those in the section where the boat was docked were still gas, and the soft flames bathed the remarkable vessel in a golden glow. Its wooden trim with intricate carvings and brass railings gleamed above a white hull. Every detail was pristine, from the deep red paddlewheel to the elegant smokestack sending puffs of steam into the starry night.
Its evening passengers mingled on the quay, showing off the latest fashions. The men looked sharp in their expensive linen suits and Panama hats, but they were outshined by the women, who sported the latest and greatest fashions. Their attire ranged from elegant ballgowns created by top Parisian designers to intricately beaded flapper dresses. It was a cornucopia of ornate headbands, feathered hats, and long silk gloves, an explosion of style and color. June drank in the lavish designs, happy she chose one of her best evening dresses: a shade of teal blue that matched the ribbon in her hat, a beaded belt, and a strand of maroon beads. Anticipation and excitement rippled through the crowd and the crisp air infused the party with the earthy scent of the river, mixed with tobacco and powdery perfumes.
A captain appeared on the upper deck, a tall figure in uniform, casting his shadow on the ground. His head swiveled as he scanned the animated crowd. Voices and laughter rang out over the rhythmic chug of the engine. June knew with a sudden clarity that this was going to be a night to remember.
“A penny for your thoughts.” June had been so immersed in the sights and sounds, she’d nearly forgotten Jack was beside her. He was making a splash of his own in a dark red suit framing a crisp white shirt, topped off with black cuffs and lapels. It was no surprise that female heads swiveled when he walked by.
“It is absolutely stunning,” June said.
“You took the words right out of mouth,” Jack said, staring at her, his voice low and teasing. “But what do you think of the steamboat?”
“You are certainly full of yourself this evening,” June teased back. It wasn’t often that June and Jack saw each other so dressed up, and it added a bit of zing to the surprise Nate had arranged for them.
Before they could continue their banter, they were interrupted by Nate, tugging at the collar of his white shirt as if it were choking him. The blazer of his tan suit was thrown casually over his shoulder. “Did I promise you a night to remember, or what?” His grin was infectious.
“How in the world did you pull this off?” Jack asked. “This is far from your usual haunts.” June raised an eyebrow and Jack leaned in. “Gambling dens and dingy nightclubs.”
“A man can grow,” Nate said. “Save that thought.” He slapped Jack on the back and strode away, making a beeline through the crowd as if on a mission.
“Let’s not lose him,” Jack said. He took June’s hand, and they were forced to do double-time just to catch up, keeping their eyes on his back as he weaved through the well-dressed folks littering the quay.
“Where is he going?”
“One never knows with Eagle Eyes.”
Just as June was starting to tire, Nate finally came to a stop behind a plump elderly lady in a purple dress, hat, and shoes. She was positioned near the entrance ramp to the boat, no doubt waiting for the boarding to begin. Whatever this was, one thing was for sure: this was no ordinary boat tour. June was just wondering what exactly the occasion was when a couple strolling by provided the answer. “What a unique setting for an engagement party,” the woman exclaimed. “Quelle merveille!” What a marvel. “I would bet the Picards planned this outing. I cannot imagine the Auclairs having such notions.”
“What do you expect from the nouveau riche,” the man replied. “Ils ont de l’argent, mais ils n’ont pas de goût.” They have money but no taste…
“It is a shock, is it not?” the woman continued. “The Auclairs of all people. With their impeccable lineage one would think they might have chosen a more elegant family.”
“It is a mystery,” the man said. “A mystery shrouded in money.”
The woman’s laughter rang through the air. “I will say, Picard Parfum is without equal. Their scents are absolutely divine.”
“Divine enough to cover up the stench of new money?” Their laughter trailed off as they disappeared down the quay.
“We’re attending an engagement party?” June asked, gobsmacked. She looked to Jack, who shrugged, equally perplexed. June tapped Nate on the shoulder. He whirled around and grinned. “What are we doing here?”
“Surprise!” Nate winked. “Have you heard of the Auclairs and the Picards?”
June nodded. Picard Parfum, and thus the Picard family, were the talk of the town. Parisians couldn’t stop themselves from purchasing their exquisite scents and spritzing themselves silly. And of course, everyone knew the Auclairs. The family had been in Paris for generations, excelling in the import/export business. Old money. But that was where the extent of her knowledge ended. “Are you actually invited to this gathering?”
“Me?” Nate asked, still grinning. “Define invited.”
Exasperated, June looked to Jack. Jack pulled at his tie and addressed his friend. “What’s the plan, Nate?”
“We’re young, we’re in Paris, we’re free,” Nate said. “Why not sneak aboard? Have a little adventure?” He stared at June, his eyes aglow with mischief. “Or are you not up for adventure, my lady?”
June could feel both men staring at her. “I have been known to take part in an adventure or two.” Slipping onto this boat and mingling with these prominent families would make for a glorious story, and in the end what harm could it do?
“Fantastic,” Nate said, rubbing his hands together. “Now. How are we going to pull this off?”
Jack groaned. “Is that why you’ve dragged us here? You’re at a loss at how to accomplish this little bout of fun?”
Nate flashed his teeth. “I got us this far. Am I to do all the work?”
June laughed and shook her head. A little pulse of excitement thrummed through her. “We just need a little help from someone with clout.” Her gaze landed on the elderly woman in purple standing just ahead of the
them. From her outfit to her posture, it was obvious she was someone. June edged closer and raised her voice loud enough so the woman would be able to hear her. “Who’s the bride and groom?”
At this, the elderly lady pivoted, and flashed a shy smile. “Why, Mademoiselle, the groom is my grandson, Reginald Picard, and the bride-to-be is none other than Elizabeth Auclair.” Apart from a rim of white lace on her hat, and light blue eyes peering up at June, the only thing on the woman that wasn’t purple was a large diamond brooch pinned to a purple scarf around her neck. She looked adorable, like a walking, talking violet.
“Of course,” June said. “I was just telling my friends Nate and Jack that we are so fortunate to have met your grandson recently.”
“Oh?” the woman said. “Where did you meet?”
“What is the name of that club?” June turned to Jack. “It was such a whirlwind; I’m finding it difficult to remember the name. But what a night. We certainly celebrated, didn’t we?”
“It was something to behold,” Jack said, ...
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