Chapter 2

Chapter Text

The train from Calais arrived at Gare du Nord station with a long delay, due to a carriage stuck in the tracks a few miles after Calais.
Inspector Sean Noren wanted only to find a place to eat something; he was really hungry after the long travel, then he'd be ready to start his investigation, going to the police station and examining all the reports.
He was sure his French colleague wouldn't be at the platform anymore, waiting for him: the delay was so long he'd gone home to his family.
Henri Sabrè was his name, they spoke briefly at the international phone line; his English was difficult to understand, while Sean's French was more fluent. They had been chosen for their ability to speak each other's language, Hans said, and this time Sean doubted the words of his superior and affectionate uncle Hans..
Sean imagined this Henri like a middle aged man, short and fat with an arrogant attitude, so typical of French people.
The train stopped and Sean collected his suitcase; the conductor helped, as he did for all first class passenger, wishing Sean a good stay in Paris.
The platforms were crowded, Sean had to find a way to reach the hall of the station, moving between people, luggage, goods to be delivered and the vapour of the trains.
At the head of the train a man was looking with attention at the passengers from Calais, like he was waiting for somebody he had never met before.
Sean noticed him and stopped a few steps before.
He was medium height, slim, dark brown hair and small moustaches, a little beard on his chin; his eyes were two blue pools, when they met Sean's an electric charged look passed between them.
He was simply gorgeous, Sean had to admit himself, how he would like to know more about that stranger.
The man went closer and addressed Sean with three words he never imagined to hear from him.
"Inspector Sean Noren?"
"Yes."
"I'm Henri Sabrè."
The French colleague offered his hand, it was warm through the gloves Sean was wearing.
"The train had a long delay."
"I knew, I showed my distinctive and the control office of the station told me everything. I had time to visit your hotel and inform you'd be late."
They continued talking on their way out of the Gare, Henri insisting to carry his baggage, saying in France it was common to help.
"I want to start working this evening. After I eat something, I'm hungry."
"Is a Brasserie good for you? We can eat together, then go to my office, I'll show you the case note. I'm hungry, too."
"Don't you eat at home?"
"Nobody is at home, I live alone."
For a moment Henri's face was sad, then he shook his head and prompted Sean to cross the road and walk together for a short distance.
"Brasserie des arcades, let's try this one, a friend suggested me."
They sat at table facing the street, Henri wanted Sean to have a view; Paris was indeed the city of lights, Sean noticed the continuous flood of people, carriages and cars, more than in London.
They both ordered the dish of the day, roasted duck with vegetables, Sean ate with impressive speed, casting frequent glances to the man sit in front of him.
They took a public car to go to the police station, stopping at Sean's hotel to leave the suitcase.
"I've reserved for you this hotel because it is close to my house, in case you may need help."
"Thanks."
"We can go work in the morning together and stop for the petit dejuner."
"French breakfast."
"Yes. I'll show you my favourite patisserie. This is my headquarter."
Sean looked around, they were on the Ile de la cite, the heart of Paris, Henri told him.
The bridges, Notre Dame, the Conciergerie: Henri pointed at the monuments and the view over the seine he suggested Sean to admire was mesmerizing,
The building was ancient, Henri lead Sean through a series of corridors and stairs to his place of work.
"This is my desk and I've set one for you near the window, so you can look down at Place Dauphine."
They discussed the details of the case; the woman found dead, Helen Anger, was English, married to a French citizen. She was born as the youngest daughter of an Earl and her first marriage ended up in a big scandal, she was found with a female lover.
Sean added to the case file the reports he took from London and Henri read them accurately, his written English was sure better than his accent.
The marriage to the old French colonel, twentyfive years older, was supposed to be a convenience one, but now the Earl wanted to know the reason his daughter was killed and he insisted with Scotland Yard to sent a detective to Paris.
Sean and Henri translated together the medical reports; the heart had been cut out and was nowhere to be found near the crime scene.
Sean asked for a large board to pin the facts of the case; he needed to see everything showed up together and Henri promised to find one the following morning.
He was curious regarding his English colleague, he liked his attitude and the attention he had on the case.
Sean seemed commanding and effective, Henri imagined he was in his late thirties, but his face appeared younger, like a boy still in his teens, with few facial hairs.
The eyes were cold blue, the gaze piercing and challenging at the same time. Sean was shorter than him and his frame thinner, he kept on the olive green coat inside the office, like he did at the brasserie.
They left the police station after midnight, Sean's desk was already perfectly organized, Henri's superior would sure appreciate the tidiness.
Sean spoke a little during the walk toward the hotel, asking to see the crime scene and the body at the morgue.
They parted with the agreement to meet at six o'clock next morning.
"I see you don't sleep a lot, just like me." Henri said before Sean entered the hotel door.

Sean closed the door of his hotel room and breathed deeply; he was physically and mentally tired, it seldom happened to him to be so exhausted, the long travel had indeed took its toll on him. The concierge had already lit the lamp and Sean lowered its intensity and closed the curtains. He wanted more darkness, he needed to think, to free his mind from the images of the day and from the dangerous image of Henri Sabre'.
Sean took off his coat and sat on the bed to get rid of the boots.
Looking around, the room was very comfortable, the colleague choose well, his taste was indeed excellent, like the restaurant they had dinner together.
It would be interesting to work with him, Sean reflected about the case and how they discussed the details at the station.
He unbottoned jacket and trousers and draped them on the chair, then off was his white shirt.
Sean took off the travel bag a smaller one, opened it and put the items in a drawer with a piece of soap, closing with the key and hiding it in his bag.
When away from home, he had to wash by himself some things, not relying on the hotel laundry service.
He put the dressing gown on the bed and turned toward the mirror to remove the underwear, loosing the laces of the specially made bust to reveal the round curves of two perfect breasts and the morbid hips of a woman.
"Bonsoir Saga Noren, bienvenue a Paris.", she said to the reflection in the mirror.