Update

Hey,
My English book is telling me that it is time for my story to come to an end, so I'm madly brainstorming, trying to find a way to wrap it up.
So I haven't forgotten to write a post, actually I have wrote the beginning to several posts, just none of them seem to fit right in.
But once I have the right idea, I  post it while it's still fresh in my mind.
S.

Madame Ginoux

Lawrence sat on the couch, with Cliff on his knee, for hours he searched Madame Ginoux, L'Arlesienne, and  Jules Hart. Eventually after looking through several old french history books, and websites he found some interesting information. It turns out that  Vincent Van Gogh had lived in Reims for a year, then moved to Arles, also where Madame (Marie) Ginoux lived for several years. When Vincent left Arles he corresponded with Marie by handwritten letters for several years, but eventually Marie met George Hart, the owner of an inn in Reims, when he had travelled down to Arles for a holiday. Marie's letters to Vincent grew scarcer as she fell deeper in love with George. In the July of 1890 Marie wrote a letter to Vincent, informing him that in the next week she was to be married to a inn owner from Riems. On receiving this letter, Vincent was heart broken and he ended his life with a gunshot. Marie moved to Reims with her husband, and took up painting. In the second year of their happy marriage Marie passed away after giving birth to a baby boy, Jules. George was completely heartbroken, so he named his mansion L'arlesienne, in memory of his dear wife.

Jules inherited the mansion once his father died at 38 from food poisoning. Jules eventually had a child of his own, and that child had had one of her own; Lucy Claire Hart.

Meanwhile Lucy had been rummaging through some cardboard boxes that held some of the things she had been given by Jules, in his will. She picked up a large rectangular, flat tin and opened it to find a set of oil paints of the most amazing oranges, golds, yellows and reds. It looked as it had not been used for a long time, as the paint that had once dribbled down the paint tube was now cracked and flaky. It was a set of twenty three, and all very autumn colours. It mustn't of been Jules's, because he never used oil paints, let alone orange and yellow. He never really used many bright colours in his paintings, generally they were of buildings or rivers. A corner of paper poked out of under the paints, curiously Lucy tugged at the paper to reveal an envelope with the name Marie on it, and red wax sealing it. Lucy opened the letter carefully and read it under her breath.

"To my dear Marie,
It pains my heart so much to know that you have found another man. There is no point to my life now.
I have enclosed a portrait of myself in hope that you will look to occasionally, and maybe you will be reminded of what we lost. 
Its a rainy and grey today, and I sit upon my wooden chair writing this letter to you in the cold of my little cottage in the fields of long grass. I think I will go now, Ill leave this unfair world behind me live in the clouds, you need to know that I loved you so very much, Marie Ginoux,
Until we meet again, 
Vincent. "

Cathedral of Reims

Lawrence had gone home to his apartment in town after his meal at the food-hall and had sat at the table and drank coffee while deep in thought. 

'So,' he said to his dog, Cliff, 'Paintings go missing, main suspect dies of a heart attack, suspects' daughter takes a painting from the cemetery. Maybe her accomplice, if she has one, had hidden the painting in the cemetery for Hart to find... but, Cliff, the painting that Hart took was NOT one of the missing paintings... so maybe we have two separate cases?' his dog looked at him quizzically and got back to it's food. 'Okay, hang on, why would Hart need to steal that painting? Wouldn't she already have enough money given to her from her granddad in his will? Or maybe she didn't get any money, and so she has to steal paintings to get some? Oh, I don't know.' Lawrence said and gulped the remaining coffee down. Lawrence took out his laptop and looked up old French architecture. He scrolled through various photos of old castles and towers until he came to a photograph of Reims Cathedral, an amazingly decorative cathedral with beautiful stained glass windows, arched window frames, flying buttresses and two two hundred and sixty-seven feet high towers on either side. Lawrence's eyes light up and he took out a photocopied picture of one of the paintings. The building in the painting and the one on his computer screen were identical. 'I found it, Cliff, its the Cathedral of Reims.' he spoke excitedly to his English terrier. 

Returning his laptop to the table he googled Reims Cathedral and read up about it. Deciding to go and check it out Lawrence refilled Cliff's water and food containers and locked up his flat and drove over to the Cathedral. Plodding around the cathedral for many hours Lawrence finally found something of  possible great importance. In the west wing was a plaque that read L'arlesienne: Madame Ginoux 1848-1911 L'arlesienne was the name of Jules Hart's mansion in the country side. Madame Ginoux... who was she? Why did Jules name his mansion after her? Still in deep thought Lawrence took a photo of the plaque on his iPhone and looked up Madame Ginoux. His eyes scanned the wikipedia page and he soon discovered that Madame Ginoux was Van Goughs' girlfriend. So why would Jules Hart name his house after her?

Thoughts flooded through Lawrence's confused mind as he left the cathedral and drove his car to his apartment in silence.

Lucy

Lucy made her way back home to Jules' mansion a little while out of town, and when she arrived she parked her little green Volkswagen in the carport then unlocked the house and flopped down on the enormous leather sofa. L'Arlesienne was rightfully hers now, seeing it had been passed down to her from her dear grandfather. But it still seemed like Jules' house, his furniture, his paintings on the wall, it was just as it had been when he was alive. Expect that there was no old man hobbling around the house, supporting himself with a twisted maple walking stick. Lucy had been there, and held his hand as he had passed away into the clouds. It was so sudden, he had seemed so healthy. Sure, he had arthritic knees and a bad back, but it had never really accrued to Lucy that one day he might just be gone, disappear  into nothingness.
Her parents were in Rouen one cold wintery day, it was their anniversary and Lucy had been left in the care of a neighbour. They had been going sightseeing, visiting old castles that were in the family, art galleries and vineyards. They were always the kind of things her parents were doing, her father once worked at a vineyard and since then he'd been interested in wine.
Her mother, Claire Hart, on the other hand, was more interested in old buildings. She would sit for hours on end painting in the windowsills of ancient Cathedrals. But on this particular day they had visited a castle, and were on their way home, when a blizzard began brewing, trying to avoid the worst of it, her father, William, and sped and due to the amount of snow on the road his car sped out of control and they spun into a icy lake. They were found the next day, neither had survived. When her neighbour had told her it felt like half of her was gone, disappeared into the snow. So a few weeks after the funeral her grandfather, Jules Hart and kind old man, took her in and cared for her for twelve years, until he himself passed away.
Lucy put the kettle on and got out her painting kit. Painting, like it was her mothers, was Lucy's soothing therapy. Flipping through her art book Lucy found a painting of her grandfather that she had drawn the previous year. His grey hair curled softly on top of his head, his piercing blue eyes stared intriguingly,and his mouth curved into a gentle smile. She blinked away the tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes and flicked to a black page and began painting a forest scene. Scattered between the beach trees she carefully painted delicate red and white fairy toadstools.
Pausing her painting, she got up and made a mug of instant coffee and made her way to the car, where she had left the painting that she had found earlier in the cemetery. She got the painting, and for sure it was one of hers, just like she had suspected, it was her Castle in the Woods' a painting of an ancient grey castle nestled in the tall pine trees of the French country-side. She had sold this painting to a rich woman in Paris two weeks earlier, so how had it ended up in a shed... in a cemetery? Still musing about the painting, Lucy got back to her art-work.
Two hours passed, and she had successfully completed her painting, covering the sky with dark grey storm clouds.

S.

Lawrence Heath

Lawrence Heath, a twenty-five year old man with short brown hair, and dark brown eyes sat crouched in his black Range Rover, staring out the window.

It was a drizzling and grey day in Reims, France, but through his wet windscreen he could see a crowd of fifteen to twenty mourners, all dressed in black, crowding around the priest who had just sprinkled the first handful of soil on a dead mans’ coffin, that was presently being lowered into the ground.

Lawrence had been assigned by the French Intelligence to track down Jules Hart, a elderly man who had supposedly stolen three expensive, original paintings from an old Art Gallery in Rouen. Originally Lawrence had thought that his latest case would be quite simple, track down the old man, shadow him for a few days until he went to the place where he had hidden the stolen paintings, and arrest him. But it turns out Lawrence was quite wrong, his case would not be nearly so simple, seeing the old man had died of a heart attack two days previous.

Soon enough the mourners left the cemetery, scattering in all directions, some on foot, some in cars. 

But there was one person left, Lucy C. Hart, Jules Hart’s only living descendent, his 19 year old granddaughter who had lived with him for 12 years, after her parents died in a horrible car accident. She sat against an ancient oak with an art-book on her knee, concentrating hard on the picture she was painting. Getting tired of sitting in his car Lawrence decided to put on a plaid coat and go outside.

He shivered slightly as he stepped out into the freezing cold day, and made his way towards a wooden seat, carved out of an old tree.

Getting terribly bored Lawrence rubbed his hands together and hummed a tune under his breath, after what seemed like forever there was finally some action in the almost deserted cemetery, Lucy stood up and a look of total shock and confusion covered her face as she stared into the rackety wooden shed that stood ten meters in front of her. She let out a gasp and sprinted over to the shed then stood absolutely still in the middle of the tiny shed, as if in shock, then snapping out of her thoughts she began rummaging through the gardening tools until she emerged with a canvas. Unable to see what was on the canvas Lawrence squinted his eyes and saw that it was a mixture of light and dark greens, Lawrence guessed that it was a painting of a forest or something. Even from the distance that he was away from the painting he could see that it defiantly was not one of the stolen paintings, because they were all paintings of different people, always beside the same unnamed building, with absolutely no green in the paintings whatsoever, (you see, he had study the paintings well once he was assigned the case.)

Deciding that her behavior was suspicious Lawrence walked back to his car and reported it to the headquarters then went to a food hall up the road and had a spot of lunch.

After finishing his cheese and bacon croissant and long black coffee he took out a folded photocopied picture of the missing paintings, the first one simply called “Miles” was a picture of a man in a suit standing with his arms crossed, standing beside the Reims Cathedral, no one really knew much about Miles, but people thought that he was a friend of the artist, Marie G.

The second picture was of a woman in her mid thirties wearing a blue dress, holding her hands in front of her staring solemnly at the artist, beside the Cathedral. And the third was of a young boy, around seven or eight, with dark brown hair, and his hands on his hips, grinning (Also beside the Cathedral.)

These three paintings were the only ones that Marie had ever sold, but it has been said by many people that a lot of her paintings are still in the family. Jules Hart's family. Marie was Jules' mother who had sadly died at the age of 63, supposedly from a broken heart.

S.