Normally, I wouldn’t have finished this book. But it was only three hours to listen to, so why not?

The answer to that is that this book is, frankly, awful.

The main character, Luc Moncrief, is so obviously trying to be Agatha Christie’s Poirot, but the authors of this have no idea what makes Poirot so endearing. Moncrief is self-centered, materialistic, stereotypical, and honestly quite insufferable. He spends time when he SHOULD be working buying 7000+ dollar antiques for no reason. He refuses to follow the simplest rules of the police (such as keeping his superiors in the loop), instead believing that his way is “better”—something which would surely get him fired in reality. He won’t stop whining about his dead wife? (Girlfriend?), but is very clearly beginning a romance with his partner by the end of the book. He is such a French stereotype it makes me want to scream. I hate this guy.

Now for the story—the mystery, which is quite dull, is wrapped up by a little more than halfway through. <spoiler>The rest of the book sees Moncrief and his partner, Katherine Burke, going to France after the death of his father. An adventure that amounts to nothing besides more shopping (he buys her a many-thousand euro ring?? WHY???) and Moncrief taking Burke to a whirlwind of fancy restaurants on Christmas Eve. So, a romance set up.</spoiler>

This book was a waste of time.