Minus the sunglasses, May Williams could be seen to possess startlingly blue-grey eyes – one glance from which appeared to send Nic into a trance. Today she was dressed in skinny jeans, a tight T-shirt and fashionable trainers but looked nervous. ‘I really, really want to write about the museum.’ On closer inspection, faint shadows were traced under the startling eyes. ‘Could be an important piece.’

Her seriousness was disarming and went some way to cancel out Laure’s irritation at the tactics to get the interview. She glanced up at Nic who pulled himself together and said, ‘Coffee, I think.’

The girl produced a sheaf of papers from the black rucksack. ‘I thought you would like to look at what I’ve done.’ Her tone was matter-of-fact but the hand with its bitten nails told another story as she fanned out the papers in front of Laure. ‘I promise you it’s not shoddy work.’

Laure skimmed through a couple. What she saw suggested a whip-smart intelligence and incendiary writing.

Oh God, she thought. I don’t want her on the case.

When the coffee arrived, May sniffed it and her eyes closed for a second. She drank a mouthful and a rime of milk appeared on her upper lip. ‘I’ve fallen in love with French coffee.’

‘If you like, I’ll take you to some of the best places to try out,’ said Nic.

May smiled at him.

It occurred to May that Nic had not lied when he reassured Laure that he had checked this girl out. More had been discussed on the phone than the interview.

‘I’ll show you around,’ Laure said, ‘and you can get the feel of the place before you do the interview.’ May sprang to her feet and picked up the coffee cup. ‘Leave the coffee, please. We have to take great care not to have accidents.’

‘Sure.’ May drained the mug and patted her top lip. Her body appeared to assemble into brisker lines. ‘Shall we go?’

Laure motioned them downstairs to the kiosk where Chantal was checking over the stock of souvenirs. She looked up from her tablet. ‘We need more fridge magnets with the handcuffs on them,’ she said in French. ‘Can’t get enough. This is the last one.’ She held it up. The magnet was stamped with a picture of fluffy tiger-skin handcuffs with the legend underneath: ‘They promised heaven’.

Laure translated and May laughed. Laure ushered her into the first room and she observed, ‘You’re bilingual, right? How come?’

‘My mother’s French. My father, English.’