Page 4 of The Death
“Celine!”
Sighing, Celine Kelly stopped as she reached the back entrance of the studio. It had to be Jean Paul running after her down the hall, dammit.
Gary Barnaby, the uniformed security guard, chuckled as he got to his feet at the door. “Sorry, Celine. I think he’s zeroed in on you. Better luck next time. Unless you want me to try to distract him while you slip out?”
Celine was tempted but shook her head. “That would lack dignity. I’ll handle it. Thanks anyway, Gary.” She turned to face Jean Paul as he came running around the corner. His expression was just as eager and intense as she’d known itwould be. No one had more passion for his work than him. Except maybe herself when she was working at the hospital. But there was no way she’d go to the lengths Jean Paul did to get his own way. She ignored his pleading expression and firmly shook her head. “No, Jean Paul. You know I have another part-time job I have to do tonight. I can’t give you any more time today. I’ll be here at the same time tomorrow afternoon, and that will have to be good enough.”
“Just call in sick to that stupid hospital for one more hour.” His tone was wheedling. “I feel really good about where my painting is going today. But I need that wonderful face of yours to inspire me.”
“Too bad,” Celine said. “I need enough money to pay my share of the rent for my apartment and my lessons here at the studio.”
Jean Paul frowned. “You could probably make much more if you posed for nudes here at the studio. I’ve already offered you twice as much as I’m giving you for that portrait I’m doing now. You can’t be making much interning as a resident. Besides, why would you want to take care of a bunch of boring patients when you’re an artist yourself?”
Celine shook her head in exasperation. “I’m only an artist because I’d be bored silly if I had to just sit there mindlessly while I was posing for you. And those patients aren’t as boring as you’re implying. Everyone has a story, and I can help them. Not to mention that at least I’m actually learning something worthwhile.” She made a face. “And I appreciate that I’m inspiring your genius, Jean Paul, but I prefer to do it with my clothes on.”
Barnaby suddenly chuckled. “You tell him, Celine.”
Jean Paul gave him a dirty look before he smiled at Celine. “But it’s such a terrible waste. Give me a chance and I’ll make a goddess of you.”
“I’ll pass.” She headed for the door. “There’s not much call for goddesses in today’s workplace.”
“There would be for you,” Jean Paul said. “Well, if you change your mind, be sure to let me know, and I’ll make arrangements with studio personnel.” He was turning and heading back toward his studio.
“Don’t hold your breath.” She glanced again at the security guard, who was still chuckling. “Stop grinning, Barnaby. He actually means it. It’s quite a compliment to have an artist want to make you into a goddess.”
“Yeah, sure,” Barnaby said. “I was only thinking what a great pickup line it was.”
“But it only works if the artist is as good as Jean Paul,” Celine said. “There has to be a certain substance connected to it. Good night, Jean Paul.”
He nodded gloomily as he wandered back toward his studio. “Tomorrow, Celine. Don’t be late.”
She grimaced as she headed for the rear door. “That takes a good deal of nerve,” she murmured. “Considering he’s probably made me late for my shift at the hospital tonight.”
Barnaby was frowning. “Do you want me to call you a cab, Celine?”
She shook her head as he held the door open. “Nope, I don’t believe you understood that I’d have a problem with that. Cabs persist in requiring me to pay them. I’m strictly a subway girl.”
“You sure?” he asked. “Want me to walk you to the subway?”
“No, don’t be silly. I’ll be fine. By the way, how are your wife and kids doing?”
“Great. Judy said to tell you hi and thanks for the books for the kids.”
“You’re welcome. Books are important. They can change our lives. They were my best friends while I was growing up.” She hurried out the door and said over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow, Barnaby.”
She was already walking quickly down the street toward the subway a few blocks away.
It was a cold night, and the streets were deserted now that most of the shops were closed and the rush hour was over.
Not quite deserted—she could hear footsteps on the street behind her. Strange. She hadn’t seen anyone when she’d come out of the studio a few minutes ago. But now she definitely could hear the rhythm of those steps on the sidewalk several paces back.
Was it her imagination that their rhythm seemed to be keeping pace with her own stride?
Was someone following her? She increased her speed.
The footsteps on the street behind her did the same.
Okay, someone might be following her.Nothing to get in a panic about, Celine thought impatiently. It wasn’t the first time. It probably wouldn’t be the last. Boston was a big city, and it had its own share of stalkers like any town. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t take care of herself. She just wished this particular creep would leave her alone. She took a quick look behind her. The only person on the street behind her was male, tall with dark hair, and wearing a brown jacket. There was something vaguely familiar about him… Maybe this wasn’t the first timethis asshole had decided to follow her to or from the subway? It was possible she might not have noticed him if he’d blended in with a crowd.
