Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

The red-headed woman had responded to Monsieur Bourbon, although not quite so enthusiastically as she quickly kissed his cheeks two times, then righted her beret, while those two gargoyles looked on, as they wondered whether they might have a go as well.

However, Monsieur Bourbon had other plans as he spied those small satchels around their chests, as he looked and wondered as he said: ‘do tell what’s in there, since you two have been on a bit of a jaunt, am I right?’

The two gargoyles then mention those beautiful gems as they were about to remove them, but meanwhile the red-headed woman peered out from the shop window, while Monsieur Bourbon turned the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’, as he said: ‘let’s go into the backroom.’

‘Ah ha, diamonds,’ smiled Monsieur Bourbon, as he took his loupe and gently fixed it into his eye socket, as he began to analyse those gemstones and there were many of them to look at.

The red-headed woman began to pace, and soon, since it was taking such a long time, she started to march around, even though it was a rather small backroom, but the two gargoyles continued to watch the magnificent Monsieur – mesmerising – they both felt.

Then Monsieur Bourbon removed his loupe and said: ‘they’re not real, none of them… they are synthetic,’ – the red-headed woman said, ‘you mean they’re just junk and no real value?’ as she put up her head and jutted out her chin with grumpiness.

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Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

‘Well, this is a stroke of luck,’ muttered the red-headed woman to the two gargoyles, ‘see that Inspector Clouseau, he’s still walking around that busy boulevard, still walking briskly along, while swinging his truncheon happily, and taking no notice about anything at all, and that’s perfect, don’t you think,’ as she grinned.

‘Still,’ said the red-headed woman, ‘we’re not quite there yet, but I do remember exactly where that small shop is, and I’m sure he’ll still be there, also I’ll never forget his name, Monsieur Bourbon, so let’s get moving, as the two gargoyles agreed, while they continued to hold their small satchels very tightly.

Meanwhile, Mr Cushing and The Old One had commandeered the large kitchen – Francis had poked his head around the door to say, ‘be my guest, I’m sure you are both great cooks… sorry, I mean chefs.’

Mr Cushing had explained that he had bought some sirloin from the excellent butcher, ‘looks good, doesn’t it,’ while The Old One said, ‘hmm, very nice and bloody,’ as his fangs appeared for a moment, but then he said, ‘of course, we need to cook this, and nicely.’

‘Okay, let’s get to business,’ said Mr Cushing, ‘we’ll cube the beef since we have been hankering to make some delicious curry – not too hot but really creamy.

Meantime, the red-headed woman pushed open the tingly bell in that shop; Monsieur Bourbon was right next to the door, he cupped her face in his hands and then kissed her forehead.

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