Critic/sleuth Pamplemousse has a lot on his plate when he investigates a terrible and strangely popular hotel.

Bond's charming food inspector and part time detective has a tricky task in sampling the appalling cuisine of the Hotel du Paradis. Tricky due to the fact that it's run by his Director's formidable aunt, and intriguing given the tales of the effect of the hotel's food on it's gues

Monsieur Pamplemousse is looking forward to a well-earned break in the South of France courtesy of his employer - all he has to do is collect a piece of artwork for Le Guide's Director. But when his contact fails to show and a dismembered body is washed up outside the hotel, the holiday mood evaporates. As Pamplemousse struggles with the case (and with modern technology) his ever-faithful bloodhound Pommes Frites is on hand offering proof why, during his time with the Paris Sûreté, he was one of their top sniffer dogs.

When Monsieur Pamplemousse got an urgent summons from the Director of Le Guide, he knew that there was trouble at the top. His faithful canine companion, Pommes Frites, noticed it too. But neither of them expected that the trouble would involve a nun who was in the habit of joining the Mile High Club or a full-scale smear campaign targeting Le Guide's credibility as France's première restaurant and hotel guide. Someone has been spreading worrying rumours among the staff and infiltrating the company files - awarding hotels prizes for bedbugs and praising egg and chips signature dishes. Even Pommes Frites has become a victim of the assault. It could all spell the ruin for Le Guide, but Pamplemousse is on the case.

Ever eager to expand the influence of France's leading gastronomic guidebook beyond her native shores, the Director of Le Guide has been cultivating a useful transatlantic connection in the form of a certain Mrs Van Dorman. Ex-parfumier, presently a publishing magnate and, in her spare time,a fan of private-eye novels, Mrs Van Dorman has deserted the relative safety of La Grande Pomme to accompany a group of crime writers to a recreation in Vichy of a banquet given by Alexandre Dumas before he started work on yet another sequel to The Three Musketeers. And who better to escort her than Monsieur Pamplemousse, Surete sleuth turned top-rank gourmet? Monsieur Pamplemousse himself could think of a number of more suitable candidates, especially when it becomes apparent that the assignment involves a grand entry dressed as d'Artagnan, mounted on an uncomfortably rampant black charger. But when cyanide turns out to be a surprise ingredient of the murder tour it is soon clear that Monsieur Pamplemousse - aided by the unerring nose of bloodhound Pommes Frites - is the only man for the job...