Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

‘Oh, this is a blow,’ muttered the red-headed woman, as she wondered to herself, while she tried to put her shattered thoughts into some semblance of order.

She looked to Monsieur Bourbon, and then to the gargoyles, as she said this: ‘no, quiet… we need to put our thinking caps on, don’t we; but meantime, we will need some sustenance, at least for me and Monsieur – some hot chocolate and some croissants for dunking would be best.’

So those synthetic diamonds were put in that strong safe, just in case, as they all adjourned to a little café, a good place where no one would be nosy, and certainly not near a certain Inspector Clouseau, or at least she thought so.

‘Okay, tell me more,’ she said, as the two gargoyles leapt up to the nearest very tall building, in fact, a church with a belfry, as they both grinned, ‘so what, Monsieur Bourbon, shall we do now?’

‘Well, my dear, it’s quite true, those gems are not completely worthless, although not great, and of course, the real problem is these have been nicked, obviously, come on, we know each other pretty well,’ as the red-headed woman, raised an eyebrow, ‘but we are not quitting, are we?’ as Monsieur Bourbon finished he second croissant.

Meanwhile, the two gargoyles had been both busy on their smartphones and right by that gorgeous belfry; after a few minutes there were a few beeps, including Reena, as the two of them grinned a lot.

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