Paris--La Mystique De L'Amour Since the Surete had found my predecessor floating face down in the Seine with an odd little pinprink wound on his hand, I was a bit edgy when we got to the City of Light. Things improved when I met Camille. She'd lived in San Francisco for awhile, working with clothing. We went to dinner, had fun, and the rest is...almost indescribable. Indescribably bad, that is. If you get a chance to stumble, terrified and drunk, across the roofs of Paris, don't. All the buildings are five or six stories high, and there's plenty of parapet walls to trip over. go to Chapter 1