Chasing Rainbows

  Part One

  Louisa Sablon was certain that she was the happiest person in Paris that evening. At last she was going home. Not the apartment, the apartment they had lived in for far too many years, but her real home in southern Brittany.

  As she prepared to close the library she had worked in for nearly twenty years, she could, if she used her imagination, smell the fresh air as she pictured herself stepping out onto the patio of the home she had only spent a handful of weeks in since they bought it.

  The previous evening, Sablon had told her that the chief inspector had called him into the office again and presented what would be the final offer of terms for early retirement. Sablon had pretended to be surprised though he was genuinely shocked when he read the figures. The pension would really be more than they needed but the lump sum of 750,000 francs would allow them the freedom and security they needed for the many wonderful years to come.

  Naturally, Sablon explained to the chief inspector that the offer was unexpected and that he needed a week to think about it. The chief was impatient but reluctantly agreed. He was under a great deal of pressure to lower the budget for the whole department and if he was able to get rid of at least twelve staff through early retirement, that would allow him a certain amount of financial freedom for the next two years and assist with his promotion prospects. He did not know that Sablon was going to accept, or that, indeed, he would have agreed had the terms been much less. A condition of accepting though would be to allow him to see through the case against Fabrier, which was nearly complete.

  Louisa was relieved. For far too long, Sablon had directed all of his energies into his crusade, his preoccupation in compiling the files and subsequent charges against Fabrier. He had enough already to send him away but Sablon was not happy just to do that. Sablon wanted him away for a very long time. At the beginning, she admired his determination to seek justice. His one aim – to bring the murderer of his partner to court and get a conviction. But the case had drained him for far too long. She watched him as the years ticked by and he grew older, as his hair receded and disappeared. As his eyesight became worse and his waistline grew larger. He needed a new start, a fresh direction in his life and other interests. He needed to be away from Paris, away from the bureau, away from crooks and thieves and junkies. They had become an integral part of his life and Louisa wanted to change it.

  The case against Fabrier would probably be long and drawn out. Sablon’s estimation was about three months but she had waited all these years so this was nothing. She could wait and, besides, preparation for the final escape from Paris would need a great deal of planning and she knew it would be difficult to sell the lease on the apartment with only twelve years remaining. But that was fine, with their savings and the lump sum, not to mention her small pension, they could afford to appoint an agent to cover the legalities and she estimated they would be heading for Brittany in the early spring.

  As a chief librarian, she knew all the books. Her love of books stemmed from her childhood in Brittany and she was lucky enough to read all the new titles before they went on the shelves. That day, she spent her time in the gardening section looking for the reference books she knew so well. The pages and plates of lavenders, lavateras, buddleias, topiary and hebes always excited her. The bulbs, the seeds, the perennials, the biennials, the hardy shrubs, the half-hardy shrubs and the fern – she knew all of them. And then came the hostas for those shady areas of her Brittany garden and the magical clematis. In her imagination the garden was planned. That ever changing, bright, colourful magical oasis in her dreams would soon be a reality.

  And they would be happy, Lucien and herself. The two miscarriages in their relationship were long in the past now and the unsuccessful attempts at adoption had taken their toll. Her whole passion, her own rainbow now would be the gardens. She would call him Lucien again and he would also learn the new skills needed to refurbish the house as quickly or as slowly as he wanted. It was already perfectly acceptable but he had always said he would like to restore the old summerhouse and the pigeonnier and build a new patio outside the bedroom so that Louisa could step from her bed and be amongst her blooms.

  Yes. There were plans to be made and Louisa was forming them in her mind as she walked from the library in Avenue Pompidou and stepped into the patisserie in Rue Madeline. This was a special occasion and she bought a couple of slices of the highly calorific kiwi and passion fruit cheesecake Sablon and she adored. She would miss the patisserie though. Valerie and Yvonne knew everybody’s business in the quarter. The old shop was a source of delights for the mouth and a source of information and education for the mind. But this evening, Louisa was not in the mood for gossip and she would let them know the following day about Lucien’s early retirement and what their plans were for the future.

  She paid no attention to the blue Citroen as it followed her from the library and waited patiently outside the shop. The car was like many thousands in Paris except that this one’s driver and passenger were both employed by Fabrier. He was beginning to realise that Louisa’s husband had played an integral part in stopping the courier and Sablon needed to pay for what would have earned Fabrier an even vaster fortune and reputation.

  It was the split second before the vehicle hit her that she saw it. She stepped into the road with the yellow and white striped box containing the cheesecake in her left hand. The force of the collision hit her left thigh and she was thrown to the other side of the street, landing head first in a puddle in the gutter.

  She was disorientated.

  She’d heard the crack of the bone in her lower back but there was no feeling there. There was no feeling in her legs. She could taste the blood in her mouth and moved her head. As she looked up, she watched, rather drunkenly, as the car reversed and the back wheel covered her face and split her skull.

  It was over in seconds.

  Louisa Sablon would not be living the rest of her days in the picturesque, south Breton village of Savenay.