“The modesty of the city where she [Catherine] ends up brings her back to reality. Catherine thought that a regional administrative capital—a Préfecture—would necessarily be big.”

Here’s the description: “An angel with the pure look of a child is kneeling on a bed of greenery outside, raising its right hand in blessing.” Read the book to find out what painting it is.

“She senses fingers lightly brush her shoulder, spins around and looks into the deepest gray—or perhaps green—eyes she has ever seen. She feels as though she’s falling into them. She grasps for something to catch her balance, and her professional composure kicks in, winning every time as it does. She throws him a sharp look and spits out, ‘Cedric Devers? You’re late.’ “

Do you really think we’re going to tell you more?

“But first, he takes her to the banks of the Seine, parks his bike and leads her on a lover’s walk to the Square du Vert Galant, where they pretend not to see the homeless crouching with their dogs, their hands reaching out over an improvised fire. The couple hug and kiss in front of the river in the intense artificial light of a Bateau Mouche sightseeing boat with excited tourists
capturing this picture right out of Hollywood on their digital camera memory.”

Good job. What would a suspense novel be without a few murders to solve?