Free Painted Black by Greg Kihn Page B

shopped alone, taking her time. Claudine enjoyed shopping this way. She hated other people making her rush.
    She spent the afternoon zigzagging around Regent Street checking out the little shops that seemed to spring up like mushrooms on the damp side streets.
    Halfway through the afternoon, she noticed someone following her. At first she wasn’t sure, but after she’d seen the same strange person several times, there could be no doubt. There was something both bizarre and familiar about the stalking figure. It was female, she thought, about her same size and weight. She wore a long seedy overcoat. The stranger had long stringy black hair that hung in her face and wore huge Audrey Hepburn-style Breakfast at Tiffany ’s sunglasses. She also wore a black silk scarf around her head. What the sunglasses didn’t cover was obscured by the scarf, making her unrecognizable.
    Claudine felt a sense of wrongness. Why would this person be wearing a long overcoat on such a warm sunny day? And why so anti-fashion, wearing a ratty overcoat on Carnaby Street? The peculiar appearance of the stranger disturbed her. She was obviously in disguise. Why?
    Claudine stepped up her pace, trying to lose the stranger. But no matter how she tried, she could shake the mystery figure. At one point, she actually ran across the street and tried to disappear behind some taxicabs, but the stranger hung tight.
    Alarmed now, Claudine began hurrying, looking for a policeman and trying to stay ahead of the frightening stranger. She wanted to cry out for somebody to help but she realized how ridiculous it would have sounded in broad daylight.
    After Claudine thought she had finally lost her, she ventured a look behind only to be shocked to see the stranger was back, looking as determined as ever. Claudine panicked. She cut across streets and alleys, frantically trying to lose the stranger, but no matter what she did, there she was, like a phantom.
    She hurried down Shaftsbury Avenue bumping into people and stumbling forward. She wanted to scream, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She just kept running in little steps in her high heels. Saint Patrick’s Cathedral was ahead.
    She dodged a group of tourists and sprinted toward the back door to Saint Patrick’s. There would be priests there, someone who could help her. It would be safe haven. She was sure.
    Claudine ran up the steps to the old church, taking them two at a time, and launched herself through the unlocked oversize wooden doors. She expected worshippers, but the church was barren. Blind from going from bright afternoon sunlight into the darkness of the church, she stumbled past one of the pews. She nearly ran into one of the priests.
    â€œOh, thank God!” Claudine said. “Somebody’s following me! I need help!”
    Claudine stopped. As her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness of the cathedral, she noticed some alarming things about the priest she had just bumped into. He wasn’t really a priest. He wore a black hooded robe that kept his face in dark shadow. The cross around his neck was upside down. It was made of some kind of polished black stone.
    Claudine’s terrified heart nearly leaped out of her chest. She tried to scream when the powerful arms of the counterfeit priest grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around, and pulled her back against the wall. One of the evil priest’s hands clamped over her mouth, and the other applied a chokehold around her neck. Claudine couldn’t move or make a noise.
    Like a ghost, the female stranger entered the church. She silently withdrew an elaborate WWII Nazi SS dagger from an inside pocket of her overcoat. The blade gleamed menacingly. It looked razor sharp. Claudine got a good look at the stranger. She saw her own terrified reflection in the stranger’s sunglasses. She couldn’t help thinking, I know this person .
    Claudine tried to scream, but it was too late. The knife plunged into her heart.