Murder on the Eiffel Tower: A Victor Legris Mystery
By Claude Izner
3/5
()
About this ebook
Murder on the Eiffel Tower is painstakingly researched, an effortless evocation of the glorious City of Light, and an exciting opening to a promising series featuring Victor Legris.
The brand-new, shiny Eiffel Tower is the pride and glory of the 1889 World Exposition. But one sunny afternoon, as visitors are crowding the viewing platforms, a woman collapses and dies on this great Paris landmark. Can a bee sting really be the cause of death? Or is there a more sinister explanation?
Enter young bookseller Victor Legris. Present on the tower at the time of the incident, and appalled by the media coverage of the occurrence, he is determined to find out what actually happened.
In this dazzling evocation of late nineteenth-century Paris, we follow Victor as his investigation takes him all over the city and he suspects an ever-changing list of possible perpetrators. Could mysterious Kenji Mori, his surrogate father and business partner at the bookstore Legris operates, be involved in the crime? Why are beautiful Russian illustrator Tasha and her colleagues at the newly launched sensationalist newspaper Passepartout always up-to-date in their reporting? And what will Legris do when the deaths begin to multiply and he is caught in a race against time?
Winner of the prestigious Michel Lebrun French Thriller Prize
Claude Izner
CLAUDE IZNER is the pseudonym of two sisters, Liliane Korb and Laurence Lefevre. Both are second-hand booksellers on the banks of the Seine and experts on nineteenth-century Paris.
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Murder on the Eiffel Tower: A Victor Legris Mystery Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The Montmartre Investigation: A Victor Legris Mystery Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Disappearance at Pere-Lachaise: A Victor Legris Mystery Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The Assassin in the Marais: A Victor Legris Mystery Rating: 1 out of 5 stars1/5In the Shadows of Paris: A Victor Legris Mystery Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Strangled in Paris: A Victor Legris Mystery Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
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Reviews for Murder on the Eiffel Tower
204 ratings45 reviews
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5not a bad book but it made me miss paris!!!
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5I really wanted to like this. It was an interesting idea, were the victims murdered or did they die from bee stings. However none of the victims were given any time to develop so I didn't know them and didn't care about how they died and if they were murdered why, the characters that were given time to develop are unlikeable and I didn't care if they became victims or were the murderer.
The best thing I can say about this book is that it is one more off the to be read pile. - Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I wish I could have read this book in French instead of Swedish, but I suspect it wouldn't have made much difference in the end. Not as far as my enjoyment of the book is concerned. I liked the setting: Paris in the late 19 century and the great Expo. The characters weren't likeable and the plot wasn't anything special, but still, historic and French - that helps. So I'll probably read the next book in the series, preferably in French, but I'll settle for a translation if that's more convenient. Just one thing about the title ("The Murder on the Eiffel Tower" and the Swedish equivalent). The translation doesn't do the original justice. ("The mystery of Rue Saint Pères") It has to be hinting at Edgar Allan Poe's The Murders in the Rue Morgue so the translation should have reflected that.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5(Fiction, Mystery, Translated) This first in a series had the promising premise of an amateur sleuth in the person of 1889 Parisian bookseller Victor Legris. Legris investigates the deaths of several people, all apparently of bee stings, in connection with the newly opened Eiffel Tower.The historical facts are carefully researched and there are wonderful details of the literary world of the time, but the whole thing was just a little flat.Izner is the pseudonym of two sisters who are second hand booksellers in Paris. 3½ stars
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5Murder on the Eiffel Tower by Claude Izner - OK
It's almost six weeks since I read this book & I've been puzzling about what to say about it for all that time. This is the first in a series of mystery (possibly 'cosy' genre) novels set in Fin de siècle Paris featuring Victor Legris, a bookseller, and his various family and friends. I picked it up because I'd read a positive review of the second in the series and seeing the first three in a charity shop, could not resist.
Now I'm not too sure. The book didn't fire my imagination particularly. Not sure if it was a clunky translation, but it didn't flow that well. Still, nice little mystery - a variety of people are killed by a bee sting during the 1889 Universal Exposition, which gives a nice introduction to Paris & a colourful background. The mystery itself wasn't too difficult to solve, but there were one or two twists along the way.
I think if I hadn't already picked up the next two & if the one I'd initially wanted to read wasn't the second, I wouldn't bother reading any more. As it is, I'll wait a while before reading the next one. - Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I wish I could have read this book in French instead of Swedish, but I suspect it wouldn't have made much difference in the end. Not as far as my enjoyment of the book is concerned. I liked the setting: Paris in the late 19 century and the great Expo. The characters weren't likeable and the plot wasn't anything special, but still, historic and French - that helps. So I'll probably read the next book in the series, preferably in French, but I'll settle for a translation if that's more convenient. Just one thing about the title ("The Murder on the Eiffel Tower" and the Swedish equivalent). The translation doesn't do the original justice. ("The mystery of Rue Saint P?res") It has to be hinting at Edgar Allan Poe's The Murders in the Rue Morgue so the translation should have reflected that.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The book is set in Paris in 1889 which was the setting for the World Expo at which what was then the world's tallest structure, the Eiffel Tower, was officially opened. A woman collapses and dies on one of the Tower's platforms and the official story is that she died of a bee sting. Even when other people die, also purportedly of bee stings, the Police do not appear to be taking much interest in the deaths. However, Victor Legris, a local bookseller, becomes convinced the deaths are more than coincidences and commences an investigation of sorts.
The historical part of this historical crime fiction is fascinating. The book manages to depict the time beautifully, giving a real sense of the place and the people and the truly wondrous thing that the Tower and the associated Expo must have been at the time. There are references to the art movements centred in Paris at the time and numerous other facts that we associate with the city and it all has a very realistic feel. There are a couple of instances where I thought modern day sensibilities had been unrealistically ascribed to 19th Century Parisians but overall I thoroughly enjoyed losing myself in this setting.
Unfortunately the crime part of the book wasn't nearly as riveting. The amateur sleuth, Victor Legris, doesn't really detect anything. He leaps from one misplaced conclusion to another and the ultimate resolution to the mystery was achieved more in spite of his actions than because of them. Not that there were a heck of a lot of clues pointing in the direction of the villain (I had guessed the culprit but it was the same kind of guesswork that Victor engaged in and not based on a single fact provided in the book). It felt to me as if the various 'acts' of the plot were used more to depict some aspect of the city or the Expo that the author wanted to highlight than to advance the plot with the result that the plot was weaker than it should have been.
The characterisations in the book varied in their success. I never 'bought' Legris because he was far too willing to believe his friends to be guilty of murder and thought nothing of spying on them or going through their possessions. In addition he's ridiculously melodramatic and not terribly bright and I really can't see that kind of protagonist sustaining a series. His love interest, Tasha the struggling Russian artist, started out strongly but towards the end I found her a bit insipid and inconsistent with her earlier self. However some of the minor characters, including Joseph the bookseller's assistant and mystery aficionado, were far more engaging and credible.
Claude Izner is the pseudonym for two French sisters who are modern Parisian booksellers with particular expertise in this time period so the historical aspect of this book is first rate. The whodunnit side of the book is less well developed but it's a fun read in spite of that. - Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5This book is a splendid evocation of Paris during the Belle Époque, and Legris' frequent walks in various neighborhoods made me very happy indeed. The two women booksellers who write as Claude Izner bring their setting to life.The mystery is also a good one. By the time I pieced all the clues together, it was almost time for the reveal. The list of suspects is a long one and represents almost all the various social strata in the city, which gives the authors more opportunity to depict their beloved Paris. The one aspect of the book that I felt was lacking was the cast of characters. The only character in the entire book whom I felt had a real spark of life to him was Joseph, the assistant in Victor's bookshop. (While I'm on the subject of that bookshop, librarians and booksellers reading Murder on the Eiffel Tower will see that customers really haven't changed much from one century to another.) The main character, Victor Legris, is what I've always thought of as a boulevardier-- a man-about-town. He dresses well, he dines well, he has a mistress. Victor has many things and does many things (even deigning to work in his shop from time to time), but he still felt a bit two-dimensional, a bit reserved, as did everyone else. As much as I loved mentally walking the streets of Paris in the late nineteenth century while solving an enjoyable mystery, it's the stiffness of the characters that will make me hesitate to continue with this series.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This is the first book in a series featuring a bookseller who is compelled into seeking out a murderer. The name Claude Izner is in fact a pseudonym for a team of two sisters who have written several works, both together and separately, and who also happen to be book vendors, each with a kiosk on opposite sides of the Seine in Paris. The series begins with the Exposition Universelle of 1889 which was held to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the storming of the Bastille, one of the major events of the French Revolution. The focal point is the newly constructed Eiffel Tower, then referred to as the '300 meter tower' and the highest monument in the world, and the scene of what may or may not be the murder of a visitors. Just before the woman's death occurs, our hero, Victor Legris attends a dinner party at the Tower's restaurant to celebrate the launch of a newspaper to which he's invited as a potential literary contributor. He's immediately attracted to the paper's illustrator, Tasha, a Russian émigré who turns out to be an artist with an independent spirit and a protofeminist, though the 'F' word in never actually mentioned other than in the afterword. Legris has a business partner who also shares his apartment above the book store, a Japanese man called Kenji Mori, who we learn early on was involved in raising young Victor when the boy's father passed away. As the story progresses, Victor becomes entangled in what turns out to be a series of mysterious deaths by what seem to be killer bee stings, when a series of circumstances leads him to suspect a number of people—including both his mentor Kenji and his love interest Tasha—of being responsible for the killings. It took me a while to get into the story, though I can't be sure whether the writing was at fault or simply by virtue of the fact I read the book in the original French, which fittingly enough uses many Parisian French expressions, which for some reason took me a while to get used to here. Perhaps this is a sign I'm overdue for my next visit to the City of Light. However as I progressed, and the intrigue grew, I became more interested, and when I started also listening to the very French Le comte de Monte Cristo, delivered by a French narrator who immediately refreshed my ear and memory for the appropriate tone of the language, this issue became moot and I started really appreciating the book, though my initial difficulties are reflected in my rating. As one can expect, there are lots of references to literature, and French literature in particular, with some more obscure writers who are helpfully mentioned in a few annotations, but also lots of cameos of famous figures from the period, many of which had me looking up wikipedia entries to add to and stimulate my memory. In all, a good start to what promises to be an entertaining series, though I would venture to guess (and hope) that I'll get more enjoyment out of the sequels now that the main characters and stylistic approach are more familiar.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I enjoyed visiting turn-of-the-century Paris in Murder on the Eiffel Tower. I felt the motivation of the amateur sleuth was weak; I didn't understand why Victor Legris was so convinced that one of his friends had to be the killer. In the end I did feel the solution was logical, however. The setting and characters were interesting enough to make me want to check out the next book in the series, which I also enjoyed and I look forward to reading more.
- Rating: 1 out of 5 stars1/5I suspect we all pick up a book looking forward to what is going to happen. So normally around page 50 a reader will be getting twitchy if nothing much has happened. Get to the end of the book and it still seems like you're waiting for something to happen and it's a very frustrating experience. Set during the 1889 World Expo in Paris, the Eiffel Tower has just been officially opened and is a massive attraction. When a woman dies on one of the Tower's platforms, officially she died from a bee sting. As other people also die supposedly from bee stings, the police are not particularly interested, but Victor Legris, local bookseller and man about town type, is convinced that there is something sinister to these deaths.Part of the reason that the book seems to go nowhere is that very early on the reader will find themselves being dragged down all sorts of cul-de-sacs, and dead-end alleyways into some, albeit fascinating historical aspects. What the book does particularly well is give you a great sense of the place and time - with some of those cul-de-sacs quite interesting in their own right. If only they hadn't dragged the focus away from the main plot point just once too often.None of that meandering around was much helped by the investigation style of Legris. Which seemed to amount to a lot of leaping and posturing, and very little in the way of fact gathering - or disclosure to the reader for that matter. The other problem with the book was some seriously poor character development, particularly that of Legris and his love interest, Tasha the Russian artist. He was very flat, and strangely one-dimensional and I did wonder how much the background of the author (actually two Parisian bookselling sisters) informed their view of their central protagonist. Perhaps they were aiming for dramatic and interesting, but alas ended up with melodramatic and a bit silly. Tasha didn't fare much better, as if being an artist in 1880's Paris wasn't enough of a cliché, she was Russian, she started out with a bit of potential, but quickly faded to bland.I will dip into the next book in the series, as it's here, and first books are often not a good indicator of the potential of a series, but to be honest, I had to bribe myself with a chocolate for every 20 pages read to finish this one. I hope my doctor's not going to get all over-excited about my blood sugar levels after the next one.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5This mystery would appeal to Francophiles and readers who enjoy detailed historical settings. The mystery was enjoyable, but not exceptional.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5Yawn, I don't even care how it ends.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5*Parisian Puzzle*What a delightful romp through 19th century Paris! Murder on the Eiffel Tower is the first in a series that shows much promise for many enjoyable future reads. Although this is a debut in the USA, two other installments have already been published in France, waiting for translation. The setting is late 1800s Paris at the time of the Worlds' Exhibition which dazzles the local Parisians with it's many marvels and wonders from around the world. At the same time we have the unveiling of the famous Eiffel Tower, both events showcasing a variety of mysterious murders thought to be caused by bee stings. To unravel these cryptic and unusual deaths comes young Victor Legris, a local Antiquarian bookseller caught up in the melee and who soon suspects his own business partner may be the murderer. The novel offers great character development, good plots with twists and turns, great historical backdrop and plenty of action and intrique to keep the reader turning the pages. Not being able to put this wonderful book down, I found it a breath of fresh air and a pure delight to read. I eagerly await book two and three which I have already ordered UK copies of. I simply cant' wait another year or more for US translations to get here. Dont' miss this sparkling debut. It's fun, it's different and darn good simple old fashioned murder mystery.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The Eiffel Tower has just opened and thousands of Parisians and other tourists are crowding the upper level to get a glimpse of Paris and sign "The Golden Book" to become a part of history. One visitor is Eugenie Patinot and her niece and two nephews. Eugenie is hot, tired, and agitated, but she feels she must earn her keep while living with her sister by taking care of the children for the day. While resting on a bench she suddenly feels a sting on her neck. She falls to the ground and, within minutes, she is dead.So begins 'Murder on the Eiffel Tower". The historical aspects of the novel ring true, however, as a 'whodunnit', it fails on a couple of levels. For instance, within the first 16 pages we are introduced to no less than 14 different characters, five of whom work at a newspaper whose editor is trying to entice Victor Legris into writing for them. That many characters is confusing, especially since they all return at different points in the book as suspects and/or witnesses. And if that wasn't enough, we are introduced to at least a dozen or so more who just manage to muddy up the story, provoke Victor's raging jealousy, and/or end up dead.Victor Legris, a bookseller and amateur writer and sleuth, begins to see a pattern in the "bee sting" deaths of Euguenie and others, but can't put all the pieces together. Perhaps he is too busy trying to figure out how to get Tasha, a member of the newspaper staff, into bed. He makes himself ill chasing down one "clue" after another, but none of them make sense. It's not until the middle of the book that we begin to discover what these clues are and who they pertain to, but by this time there is so much else going on that it may not matter. The motive for the murders is explained in a posthumous confession, but it seems to be mostly feeble and senseless. The characters are barely on the verge of being interesting themselves. What really shines here is the city of Paris itself. The "author" (really two sisters who own a bookshop and are 'experts' on 19th century Paris) do a wonderful job of describing the times and cityscape. The translator has also done a wonderful job because it is a very easy read and not the usual stilted language often found in translations. Too bad the crime, perpetrator, suspects, and sleuths don't rise to the same level.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This was a quite charming historical mystery novel. At times the prose was wandering, but always delivered delightful observations about Paris just prior to the turn of the century.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I was excited to read this book because I am an avid fan of historical mysteries AND the amateur sleuth in the novel, Victor Legris, was a Parisian bookseller. What an unbeatable combo for any bibliophile!Set in the glittering world of 19th-century Paris, the author effortlessly whisks readers to the vividly painted world of the City of Light during the 1889 World Exposition, a heady event commemorating the 100th anniversary of the storming of the Bastille, which dazzles visitors with its many wonders from around the globe and whose highlight was the sensational unveiling of the then-tallest structure in the world: the Eiffel Tower. And it’s at the Eiffel Tower that a string of seemingly unrelated deaths occur that compel bookseller and amateur sleuth Victor Legris to investigate what he believes is actually murder. Thus begins an engaging romp around turn-of-the century Paris in pursuit of the truth. “Murder at the Eiffel Tower” best aspects were how it transported me takes to the streets and homes of fin de siècle Paris as well as serving up a host of tasty tidbits about the art and book world of the time. FYI, Claude Izner is actually the pen name for two French sisters who are modern-day booksellers in Paris who are touted to have expertise in this time period, thus the reason why this historical whodunit has such well-researched period details that are so spot-on and pitch perfect. You will also especially like this book if you are a fan of French architecture. The actual mystery aspect of this volume seemed, to me, less masterful and many of of the characters, especially the secondary ones, felt less than fully fleshed out. However, the author does hold potential: I did enjoy the story and would check out another book by this author (especially as this book launches an 8-book series featuring Victor Legris) to see how “they” are developing their craft.
- Rating: 1 out of 5 stars1/5Normally, I like mysteries. This one, however, couldn't hold my interest at all. I couldn't even finish it. The characters didn't "come alive" for me and the plot was only minimally interesting.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5This was a fun, enjoyable read. I had a some trouble understanding- or justifying some of the main character's actions- but overall, a this was a good mystery, and would make for a pleasant summer afternoon in the park or at the beach.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Murder on the Eiffel Tower is a historical mystery set in Paris 1889 and is the first in a series featuring Parisian bookseller, Victor Legris. The Eiffel Tower has just opened during the World Exposition, and Legris finds himself in the midst of a series of mysterious deaths apparently caused by bee stings. The four victims do not appear to be connected and the deaths seem random, but Legris is intrigued by the oddness of the deaths and decides to investigate. As he looks more deeply into the matter, it becomes obvious that there is a serial killer on the loose and, unfortunately, Legris suspects his business partner and closest friend. The plot weaves in and out of the rather atmospheric setting as Legris pursues the murderer.The historical backdrop of the 1889 World Exposition and 19th century period detail were, to me, the star attractions of the book. I was particularly fascinated by descriptions of 19th century French architecture. Legris was annoyingly dense as he repeatedly missed obvious clues that would identify the serial killer, and the other characters were rather poorly developed and not terribly memorable. The book was translated from the French and the writing seemed stilted at times. Perhaps the translation had something to do with my lack of enthusiasm.Murder on the Eiffel Tower was, overall, a quick and enjoyable read that will appeal to those interested in the setting, but I did not find it compelling enough to pursue the series.
- Rating: 1 out of 5 stars1/5It is very rare that a historical novel or mystery doesn't capture enough of my attention to keep me reading, but this was such a book. I gave the book forty-five pages before I put it aside. I may try it again someday, but not any time soon.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5The setting is the 1889 World Exposition in Paris. A series of deaths occurs in which the victims appear to have been stung by a bee. Did they really have that many killer bees or was it murder? Bookseller Victor Legris sets out to investigate. Legris is not a very likeable sleuth. He doesn't always finish what he sets out to do before going off on another tangent. Other characters seem to have a better handle on the situation than he does. He didn't even seem to have the motive determined (although others did). I was disappointed that a book with such a unique setting had such a weak sleuth. Although I'm sure the mystery suffered some in its translation from the French, it could not have suffered this much.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Well, anyone who can't wait to delve into a mystery and loves all things Parisian will salivate in anticipation of opening this book cover. I am one of those people. No one can pass this book by with the title being Murder on the Eiffel Tower, and the author being a pseudonym for two sisters who are second hand book sellers on the banks of the Seine (plus experts on 19th century Paris). There is nothing left to do but pour a glass of wine and begin to savor the tale. Victor Legris is the amateur sleuth and a bookseller. By happenstance he is presented with a set of coincidences and acquaintances that lure him to explore explanations for the deaths centered around the World Expo of 1889. However, I found Victor needed some flushing out. He and the other characters seemed a bit disjointed, just like their actions, with not much access to their psyches. As I read, I kept visualizing the scenes as being in a comic strip and their thoughts limited to what can be contained in a bubble over their heads. Interesting historical facts, book knowledge, Parisian references and wonderful character ideas were so evident but it all seemed to be tossed about - like too many ingredients in a salad and no handle on flavor.I will read the next in the series in anticipation of growing depth and cohesion because I love mysteries and Paris and the protagonist being a bookseller.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I'm definitely looking forward to more translations of "Claude Izner", given how much I enjoyed this.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I was first attracted to the lurid title 'Murder on the Eiffel Tower', ala Agatha Christy, and indeed, the book reads a little like her mysteries. I found that I had to go back and reread parts because I felt they contained clues and knew that I had to start reading more carefully. Sometimes they did and sometimes they didn't. It was a good mystery with a good cast of characters that I found interesting without feeling contrived. I did think the ending was a little weak however, since there were no clues in that direction. I did like the protagonist Victor very much and also found myself being seduced by Tasha! I think the character I liked the most was JoJo the shop clerk. I do hope, and think, that this will be a successful Mystery Series.I must say, that one reason that I liked the book is that one of my interests is World Fairs and Expositions. I have a number of books printed during the Pan-Pacific Expo in 1915 in San Francisco and a few on the Chicago Worlds Fair of 1893. Of course, the fair in Chicago was going to show up the French, with the Ferris Wheel being the answer to the Eiffel Tower. I had read a little about the French Exposition and thought that Claude did an excellent job in describing the Fair and Paris of 1889. I felt them coming alive without being put through a history lesson. One of my great passions is the wonderful painting of Madame X by John Singer Sargent, and I can just picture Madame Gautreau as she visits the Exposition and ascends the Tower with her admirers in tow.Lastly I must comment on the author Monsieur Izner. I cracked up when I read on the back cover that Claude is really two sisters who own a bookstore in Paris. I had a mental picture of two little old ladies in the rear of a dusty bookstore inventing these characters over a cup of tea. I realize that this is probably far from the truth. I enjoyed their work and thought they did an excellent job portraying this period. I liked that they included artists, authors and other prominent people from the period. Also, I think kudos should go to Isabel Reid for an excellent translation. Well told for this American ear. Looking forward to the next installment of Victor Legris. I'm sure that Kenji and JoJo will be there, but what about Tasha...
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5I received this book through the Early Reviewers program. The plot sounded interesting, and f I told you the ending, it definitely would seem like a recipe for a great mystery. Unfortunately, for the most part, it just doesn't work. The characters weren't that interesting, and the story was at times hard to follow. It's possible something was lost in the translation, but I'm not sure.There were some bright spots in the book, such as the description of the World Exposition which was fascinating. There's promise in the series, and it's possible that future Victor Legris books could be worth a read.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Murder on the Eiffel Tower was written by 2 sisters who are second-hand booksellers in Paris & are experts on 19th century Paris. The story is set at the time of the opening of the Eiffel Tower, and all the exhibitions and fairs that accompanied it. The book feels like a nice recreation of late 19th century Paris.In the story there are several mysterious deaths. A young man who is a partner in a bookshop worries that his father-figure/business partner is involved, and then he worries that his new love interest is involved. The book follows his trail through the mystery of the murders.The book was translated and published in Fall 2008 by St. Martin's press. This review is written as part of LibraryThing's early reviewer program.The book is well-written and I think it is well-translated. The style is distinctive and elegant, and pleasant to read. Unfortunately, the story is not very good. The action didn't make sense, and I lost sympathy with the main character because he was such a dope. Both he & his father figure/business partner didn't seem to know each other or trust each other, even though they were supposed to be have a long-term close relationship. And when he started suspecting his new girlfriend it made even less sense. The end was unmotivated and illogical.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5One measure of a murder mystery is whether the reader can guess who the murderer is before the author reveals the truth and explains the facts. By that measure, this mystery worked for me. Misdirection fooled me, but apparently it didn’t fool other reviewers.Some of the pleasure of historical murder mysteries lies in the historical background and the sense of place. Brother Cadfael in Shrewsbury in the 12th Century or Marcus Didius Falco in Rome in the 1st Century is appealing because the reader knows the time and place, with background and details being supplied by the authors. If the reader doesn’t know the background, there is always Wikipedia to supply information. In this book, set in the late 19th Century in Paris, there are references to Frenchmen that I have never heard of, like General Boulanger, and artists that almost everyone knows, like Van Gogh. There are plenty of famous French authors, too, since the protagonist and his partner are booksellers, plus some obscure ones. There is a lot of grist for the search engine mill, for those readers who really want to know. Perhaps because I know far more British or ancient Roman history than French history of this period, I didn’t put much effort into learning more.For me, there are more appealing murder mysteries than this one, although maybe subsequent books in the series will be better than the first one. The translation could be better, too. Too much was left in French, and some British words were obscure to me, even though I read a lot of British fiction. Historical mystery readers might well look elsewhere for more enjoyable books.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I have to say that the concept of the book was a good one. This story had all of the makings for a good historical mystery except a mastery of the English language. There were so many times that the original French terms were retained that it completely distracted from the story. I would often find myself flipping back several pages to see who was talking and what they were talking about. It was a struggle to finish the book because I could never completely lose myself in the story. I found all of the historical details to be fascinating and was delighted by the way they were woven into the story. If read French and are looking for a good suspense novel with good character development and great historical detail then this book is for you - if not, I would not recommend it.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5Boy I wish I could read French - the original language this book was written in. I'd bet it was much better than the English translation.I was really looking forward to a mystery set in Paris in the late 19th century as I'm usually reading mysteries about England in the same era. Unfortunately I found everything about this book flat -- the story, the plot, and all of the characters. I had great difficulty finishing the book...oh who am I kidding... I couldn't get past page 200.
Book preview
Murder on the Eiffel Tower - Claude Izner
Table of Contents
Title Page
PROLOGUE - 12 May 1889
CHAPTER ONE - Wednesday 22 June
CHAPTER TWO - Thursday 23 June
ACCIDENTAL DEATH OR MURDER?
THE DRAMA ON THE TOWER CASE REMAINS A TOTAL MYSTERY
CHAPTER THREE - Friday 24 June
CHAPTER FOUR - Saturday 25 June
CHAPTER FIVE - Morning, Monday 27 June
CHAPTER SIX - Afternoon, Monday 27 June
PERSONALITY OF THE DAY: CONSTANTIN OSTROVSKI
PERSONALITY OF THE DAY: CONSTANTIN OSTROVSKI
CHAPTER SEVEN - Morning, Tuesday 28 June
JOURNEY TO SIAM, LAND OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT BY JOHN RUSKIN CAVENDISH
JOURNEY TO THE ISLAND OF JAVA BY JOHN RUSKIN CAVENDISH, 1858 – 1859
CHAPTER EIGHT - Evening, Tuesday 28 June
CHAPTER NINE - Morning, Wednesday 29 June
JOURNEY TO THE ISLAND OF JAVA BY JOHN RUSKIN CAVENDISH, 1858—1859
CHAPTER TEN - Afternoon, Wednesday 29 June
CRIME IN A CARRIAGE ANOTHER VICTIM FOR THE KILLER BEES
CHAPTER ELEVEN - Morning, Thursday 30 June
CHAPTER TWELVE - Afternoon, Thursday 30 June
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Friday 1 July
CRO-MAGNON MAN IS DEAD! CRO-MAGNON MAN VICTIM OF THE BEES?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Saturday 2 July
‘MURDERER CONFESSES EXCLUSIVELY TO READERS OF LE PASSE-PARTOUT
MURDERER CONFESSES
LE FIGARO, 13 MAY 1889 (page 4) - CURIOUS DEATH OF A RAG-AND-BONE MAN
ALSO BY CLAUDE IZNER
A FEW HISTORICAL NOTES ON THE UNIVERSAL EXPOSITION OF 1889
THE DISAPPEARANCE AT PÈRE-LACHAISE
Copyright Page
For Étia and Maurice
Jaime and Bernard
Jonathan and David
Rachel
PROLOGUE
12 May 1889
Storm clouds raced over the barren plain between the fortifications and the goods station at Les Batignolles, where the scrubby grass smelled unpleasantly of sewers. Rag-and-bone men, grouped around carts filled with household rubbish, were using their gaffs to level the mounds of detritus, raising eddies of dust. A train approached from far in the distance, gradually getting bigger and bigger.
A gang of children came running down the hillocks, shrieking: ‘There he is! Buffalo Bill is coming!’
Jean Méring straightened up and, hands on hips, leant backwards to relieve his aching joints. It had been a good haul: a three-legged chair, a rocking horse that had lost its stuffing, an old umbrella, a soldier’s epaulette and a piece of wash-basin rimmed with gold. He turned towards Henri Capus, a lean old man with a faded beard.
‘I’m going to see the Redskins. Are you coming?’ he said, adjusting the wicker basket on his shoulders.
He picked up his chair, passed the Cook Agency vehicles and joined the crowd of onlookers gathered around the station, a mixture of workmen, petit bourgeois, and high society people who had come in carriages.
With a great hiss of steam, a locomotive followed by an endless convoy of coaches pulled up beside the platform. A covered wagon stopped in front of Jean Méring. Inside, panic-stricken horses were stamping wildly, and tossing their manes. Sunburned men in cowboy hats and Indians with painted faces and feather headdresses leant out of the doors. Everyone was jostling to catch a glimpse. Jean Méring slapped the nape of his neck: an insect sting. Immediately he faltered, slid sideways, staggered, and then stumbled against a woman, who pushed him away, thinking he was drunk. His legs buckled and, as he lost his grip on the chair, he sank to the ground, dragged down by the weight of his basket. He tried to raise his head but already he was too weak. He could faintly hear Henri Capus’s voice.
‘What’s the matter, my friend? Hold on, I’ll help you. Where does it hurt?’
With a tremendous effort Méring managed to gasp: ‘A … bee …’
His eyes were watering and his sight was becoming blurred. Amazingly, in the space of just a few minutes, his whole body had become as limp as an old rag. He could no longer feel his limbs, his lungs were straining for air. In his last moments of lucid thought he knew that he was about to die. He made a final effort to cling to life, then let go, slipping into the abyss, down … down … down … The last thing he saw was a dandelion flower, which was blooming between the paving stones, as yellow as the sun.
CHAPTER ONE
Wednesday 22 June
WEARING a tight new corset that creaked with every step, Eugénie Patinot walked down Avenue des Peupliers. She felt weary at the prospect of what already promised to be an exhausting day. Endlessly pestered by the children, she had reluctantly left the cool of the veranda. If outwardly she gave an impression of dignified composure, inside she was in turmoil: tightness in her chest, stomach cramps, a dull pain in her hip and, on top of everything, palpitations.
‘Don’t run, Marie-Amélie. Hector, stop whistling, it’s vulgar.’
‘We’re going to miss the bus, Aunt! Hector and I are going to sit upstairs. Have you definitely got the tickets?’
Eugénie stopped and opened her reticule to make sure that she did have the tickets, which her brother-in-law had bought several days earlier.
‘Hurry up, Aunt,’ urged Marie-Amélie.
Eugénie glared. The child really knew how to annoy her. A capricious little boy, Hector was hardly any better. Only Gontran, the eldest, was tolerable, as long as he kept quiet.
There were about ten passengers waiting at the omnibus station on Rue d’Auteuil. Eugénie recognised Louise Vergne, the housemaid from the Le Massons. She was carrying a large basket of linen to the laundry, probably the one on Rue Mirabeau, and was quite unselfconsciously wiping her pale face with a handkerchief as big as a sheet. There was no way of avoiding her. Eugénie stifled her irritation. The woman was only a servant but always spoke to her as an equal, with overfamiliarity, and yet Eugénie had never dared point out this impropriety.
‘Ah, Madame Patinot, how hot it is for June! I feel I might melt away.’
‘That would be no bad thing,’ muttered Eugénie.
‘Are you going far, Madame Patinot?’
‘To the Expo. These three little devils begged my sister to go.’
‘Poor dear, the things you have to do. Aren’t you frightened? All those foreigners …’
‘I want to see Buffalo Bill’s circus at Neuilly. There are real Redskins who shoot real arrows!’
‘That’s enough, Hector! Oh that’s good, he’s wearing odd socks — a white one, and a grey one.’
‘It’s coming, Aunt, it’s coming!’
Omnibus A, drawn by three stolid horses, stopped by the pavement. Marie-Amélie ran upstairs.
‘I can see your drawers,’ shrieked Hector, following her up.
‘I don’t care! From up here everything’s beautiful,’ retorted the little girl.
Sitting next to Gontran, who was glued to her side, Eugénie reflected on the fact that the worst moments of one’s life were those spent on public transport. She hated travelling; it made her feel lost and alone, like a dead leaf floating at the mercy of the tiniest breeze.
‘Is that a new outfit you’ve bought yourself?’ asked Louise Vergne.
The treachery of the question was not lost on Eugénie. ‘It’s a present from my sister,’ she replied curtly, smoothing the silk of the flame-coloured dress into which she was tightly packed.
She omitted to mention that her sister had already worn the dress for two seasons, but added softly: ‘Mind you don’t miss your stop, my dear.’
Having silenced the tiresome woman, Eugénie opened her purse and counted her money, pleased that they had taken the omnibus rather than a carriage. The saving would give her a little more to put by. It was worth the sacrifice.
Louise Vergne rose haughtily like an offended duchess. ‘If I were you, I would hide your bag. They say that all of London’s pickpockets have emigrated to the Champ-de-Mars,’ was her parting remark as she got off.
Immediately Gontran piped up, ‘Did you know that they had to manufacture eighteen thousand pieces in the workshops of Levallois-Perret, and that it took two hundred workmen to assemble them on the site? People predicted that it would collapse after two hundred and eighty metres but it didn’t.’
Here we go, thought Eugénie. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Why, the Tower, of course!’
‘Sit up straight and wipe your nose.’
‘If you wanted to transport it somewhere else on wheels you would need ten thousand horses,’ Gontran continued, rubbing his nose.
Hector and Marie-Amélie came bounding down from the top deck. ‘We’re here, look!’
Pointing straight up into the sky on the other side of the Seine, Gustave Eiffel’s bronze-coloured tower was reminiscent of a giant streetlamp topped with gold. Panic-stricken, Eugénie searched for a pretext to get out of climbing it. When she couldn’t think of one, she laid a hand on her pounding heart. If I survive this I shall say fifty Paternosters at Notre-Dame d’Auteuil.
The bus drew up in front of the enormous Trocadero Palace, flanked by minarets. Down below, beyond the grey ribbon of the river filled with boats, the fifty hectares of the Universal Exposition were spread before them.
Tightly clutching her bag, her eyes fixed on the children, Eugénie began her descent into hell. She charged down Colline de Chaillot, passing the fruits of the world display, the tortured bonsai of the Japanese garden, and the dark entrance of ‘Journey to the Centre of the Earth without a second glance. Though the whalebones of her corset chafed her ribs and her feet begged for mercy, she did not slacken her pace. She just wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible and get back on terra firma …
Finally, she held out her tickets and pushed the children under the canopy of the Pont d’Iéna. ‘Listen to me carefully,’ she said slowly and deliberately. ‘If you stray from me by so much as a centimetre — do you hear me? a centimetre — we’re going home.’
Then she plunged headlong into the fray. A huge crowd was jostling around the multicoloured kiosks, forming a human tide of French people and foreigners of all races. The minstrels of Leicester Square, with their soot-blackened faces, led the way along the left bank, to the rhythm of banjos.
With pounding heart, and overwhelmed by the noise, Eugénie clung to Gontran, who was unmoved by the hubbub. The Exposition seemed to come at them from all sides. Jostled between the street vendors, the Annamese rickshaw-pullers and Egyptian donkey-drivers, they finally succeeded in joining the queue in front of the southern pillar of the Tower.
Moving reluctantly along in the queue, Eugénie looked enviously at the elegant young people comfortably installed in special rolling chairs, pushed by employees in peaked caps. That’s what I need …
‘Aunt, look!’
She looked up and saw a forest of crossbars and small beams, in the midst of which a lift slid up and down. At once she was seized with a desire to flee as fast and far as her exhausted legs would carry her.
She dimly heard Gontran’s monotonous voice: ‘Three hundred and one metres … leading straight up to the second floor … four lifts. Otis, Combaluzier …’
Otis, Combaluzier. Something about those strange names suddenly reminded her of the projectile vehicle, in that book by Jules Verne whose title escaped her.
‘Those preferring to walk up the one thousand seven hundred and ten steps will take an hour to do so …’
She remembered now: it was From the Earth to the Moon! What if the cables snapped … ?
‘Aunt, I want a balloon! A helium balloon! A blue one! Give me a sou, Aunt, a sou!’
A clout on the ear more like!
She regained her self-control. A poor relation, given a roof over her head out of pure charity, could not afford to give free rein to her feelings. Regretfully she held out a sou to Hector.
Gontran was still reciting impassively from the Exhibition Guide. ‘ … on average, eleven thousand visitors a day, and the Tower can accommodate ten thousand people at any one time …’
He stopped abruptly, sensing the icy glare of the man just ahead of them, an immaculately dressed middle-aged man of Japanese origin. He stared at Gontran unblinkingly until he lowered his eyes, then slowly turned away, satisfied.
Turning towards the ticket window, Eugénie was so overcome by panic that she was unable to string two words together.
Marie-Amélie pushed her aside and, standing on tiptoes, bellowed: ‘Four tickets for the second platform, please.’
‘Why the second? The first platform is high enough,’ stammered Eugénie.
‘We must sign the Golden Book in the Figaro Pavilion, have you forgotten? Papa insisted — he wants to read our names in the newspaper. Pay the lady, Aunt.’
Propelled to the back of the lift, close behind a Japanese man whose face bore an expression of childish delight, Eugénie collapsed onto a wooden bench and commended her soul to God. She could not stop thinking about an advertisement glimpsed in the Journal des Modes that declared: ‘Do you lack iron? Are you anaemic? Chlorotic? Bravais tincture restores the blood and combats fatigue.’
‘Bravais, Bravais, Bravais,’ she chanted to herself.
There was a sudden jolt. Her heart in her mouth, she saw the red mesh of a birdcage passing by. She had just time to think, Mon Dieu, what am I doing here?, when the lift came to a stop on the second floor, one hundred and sixteen metres above the ground.
Leaning against the railing on the first floor of the Tower, Victor Legris was keeping an eye on the coming and going of the lifts. His business associate had suggested they meet between the Flemish restaurant and the Anglo-American bar. The gallery was crammed and the atmosphere was electric with the nervous laughter of women, the animated conversation of men. Those returning for a second visit looked blasé. The lifts stopped, discharged their cargo and set off again. A motley throng stretched back along the stairs. Victor loosened his cravat and undid his top shirt button. The sun was beating down and he was thirsty. Hat in hand, he wandered as far as the souvenir shop.
A blue balloon brushed past his nose and a piercing voice cried out: ‘He was a cowboy, I tell you! He signed the Golden Book behind us. He comes from New York!’
Victor observed the two boys and the little girl whose face was pressed up against the shop window.
‘Everything’s so beautiful! The brooch with the Eiffel Tower on top, and the fans and the embroidered hand-kerchiefs …’
‘Why do you never believe me?’ yelled the little boy with the balloon. ‘I’m sure he’s part of Buffalo Bill’s troupe!’
‘That’s enough about Buffalo Bill — why don’t you look at the view instead?’ The older boy pointed towards the horizon. ‘Do you realise we can see Chartres from here? It’s a hundred and twenty kilometres away. And there are the towers of Notre-Dame and there, those of Saint-Sulpice. Then there’s the dome of the Panthéon, the Val-de-Grâce. It’s amazing, like being giants in Gulliver’s Travels!’
‘What are those things that look like enormous boiled eggs?’
‘That’s the Observatory. And further away over there is Montmartre, where they’re building the Basilica.’
‘It looks like a piece of pumice stone,’ muttered the younger boy. ‘Gontran, if I let my balloon go will it float all the way to America?’
I would love to be their age and have their enthusiasm, thought Victor. Even if they live fifty years more, they’ll never know greater excitement than this.
He caught sight of his reflection in the shop window: a slim man of medium height, thirtyish, with a harassed expression and a thick moustache.
Is that really me? Why do I look so disillusioned?
He went up to the railing and glanced down on the hordes of people milling around the Palace of Fine Arts, hurrying up Rue du Caire, storming the little Decauville train and massing in front of the vast Machinery Hall. Suddenly he felt that the atmosphere had become hostile.
‘Aunt, look after my balloon.’
Glued to her seat like a barnacle to a rock, Eugénie Patinot was determined not to move. Without a word of protest she let Hector knot the string of the balloon around her wrist. The garlands and flags of the Flemish restaurant fluttered in a light breeze and made her vertigo worse. She recalled a few lines of a song:
Le doux vertige de l’amour
Souffle parfois sur nos vieux jours …
She felt suddenly sick.
‘Marie-Amélie, stay with me.’
‘That’s not fair! The boys are —’
‘Do as you’re told.’
She was worn out after that interminable wait on the second platform with all the people wanting to sign the Golden Book, pushing and shoving. Her cheeks were flushed and her hands trembled — where would she find the courage to bear the lift ride for a third time? Clumsily, she tucked a lock of grey hair back under her hat. Someone sat down beside her, rose again, stumbled, and leant heavily on her shoulder without apologising. She let out a little cry — something had stung her on the base of the neck. A bee? Yes, definitely a bee! She waved her arms in fright and jumped to her feet, then lost her balance as her legs refused to hold her. She managed to sit back down on the bench. A feeling of great heaviness began to spread through her limbs and she had difficulty breathing. She leant back against the gallery partition. If only she could go to sleep, and forget her fear and tiredness … Just before she lost consciousness she remembered something the priest had said to her after the death of her child: ‘Life here on earth is only a sort of prelude, it is written in the Bible, and the Bible is the Word of God.’ She saw Marie-Amélie run away, disappearing into the crowd, but she didn’t have the strength to call her back as a weight was pressing down on her chest. Before her watering eyes the crowd drifted heedlessly in a circle that seemed to close in on her, nearer and nearer …
Victor was fanning himself with his hat at the entrance to the Anglo-American bar as he tried to spot his friend Marius Bonnet amongst the mosaic of dark frock coats and light-coloured dresses. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned towards a small plump man of about forty, who was hiding his advancing baldness under a Panama hat worn at an angle.
‘I say, Marius, what’s got into you? Why did you choose a place like this to meet? In honour of what? I didn’t understand your message at all.’
‘Oh, don’t complain: the world seen from up here seems quite ridiculous and that fortifies the soul. Where’s your business associate?’
‘He’s coming. So, tell me, what’s this all about?’
‘We’re celebrating the fiftieth issue of my newspaper. The first edition came out on the fourth of May, on the eve of the centenary celebrations of the opening of the Estates General at Versailles. Personally, I’m happy to make do with a three-hundred-metre tower, and I wanted you to join the party.’
‘So you’re no longer a reporter for Le Temps?’
‘I’ve given up working at Le Temps. A great deal has happened since I last visited your bookshop! Have you forgotten our discussion?’
‘I must admit that I didn’t really take your plans seriously.’
‘Well, old chap, you’re going to be surprised. And if I have gone ahead, it’s partly because of your business associate.’
‘Kenji?’
‘Yes, Monsieur Mori really cut me to the quick when he mocked my indecisiveness. So I took the plunge; you see before you the director and editor-in-chief of Le Passe-partout, a daily newspaper with a great future. Besides, I want to make you a very interesting proposition.’
Victor considered Marius’s chubby face doubtfully. He had met him some years earlier at the house of the painter Meissonier, and had been very taken with the voluble and enthusiastic southerner. Marius was a witty conversationalist, peppered his speech with literary quotations, and charmed both men and women with his apparent candour, but he also had a razor-sharp tongue and never hesitated to voice what others thought wiser to keep to themselves.
‘Come, I’m going to introduce you to our team. There are only a few of us. We’re a long way off rivalling the eighty thousand copies sold by Le Figaro but being small doesn’t stop you being great — think of Alexander.’
They pushed their way through the crowd to a table where two men and two women sat sipping drinks.
‘Children, let me introduce Victor Legris, my learned bookseller friend whom I’ve often spoken about. His collaboration will be invaluable to us. Victor, this is Eudoxie Allard, our peerless secretary, accountant, co-ordinator and general factotum.’
Eudoxie Allard, a languorous, heavy-lidded brunette, looked him up and down and, judging him to be of only limited and strictly professional interest, gave him a noncommittal smile.
‘That chap dressed like a dandy is Antonin Clusel. He’s an expert at unearthing information,’ Marius went on. ‘Besides, you’ve already met him; he’s been to your bookshop with me. He’s very persistent: once he’s on the trail of something he never gives up.’
Victor saw an affable young man with flaxen hair, whose nose bent slightly to the left. Beside him was a large disillusioned-looking fellow with protuberant eyes, who was contemplating his glass.
‘To his right, Isidore Gouvier, police deserter. He can gain access to the most secret information. Finally, Mademoiselle Tasha Kherson, a compatriot of Turgenev’s and our illustrator and caricaturist.’
Victor shook everyone’s hands but only remembered the illustrator’s first name, Tasha, with her red hair pulled back in a chignon under a little hat decorated with marguerites, and her pretty unmade-up face. She looked at him with friendly interest, and a wave of warmth spread through him. He made a real effort to follow what Marius was saying, but was distracted by the slightest movement of the young woman.
Tasha was surreptitiously watching him. She had a vague feeling that she knew him. He gave the impression of being on the defensive, withdrawn, yet neither his voice nor his manner betrayed any shyness. Where had she seen that profile before?
‘Ah, at last, here’s Monsieur Kenji Mori!’ Marius exclaimed. Victor rose from his chair and suddenly Tasha remembered where she had seen him: he reminded her of a subject in a Le Nain painting.
‘Over here, Monsieur Mori!’
The new arrival came over, very much at ease, and bowed while Marius made the introductions once more. When it came to the turn of Eudoxie and Tasha, Kenji Mori doffed his bowler hat and kissed their hands.
There was a moment’s silence. Marius asked him if he liked champagne. Kenji Mori replied that although the sparkling drink could never compare to sake, he would be delighted to have a glass. Impressed by the virile allure of this polite, refined Asian man, Eudoxie speedily revised her