Accidental Bodyguard. Sharon Hartley

Accidental Bodyguard - Sharon Hartley


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read the label. Claudia Goodwin, this address.

      Jack moved into the bedroom and found slashed nursing uniforms on the floor.

      In the bathroom, he found toothbrush, toothpaste and over-the-counter meds. Something had been written in lipstick on the mirror but smeared so it couldn’t be read. His gaze swept the small tiled room and zeroed in on traces of blood inside the toilet bowl.

      Not a good sign. Had Louise killed someone, deserted her home and run to hide on Collins Island?

      He used the paper towel to swipe the blood. He might need to get DNA from the sample.

      Thoughts churning, Jack departed, using another paper towel to close the door behind him.

      When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he heard a frail voice call out, “Young man.”

      Jack turned toward the sound and found an elderly woman standing at the doorway of an apartment leaning on a walker. Her thin hair, weathered face and shrunken body told him she was pushing ninety.

      “Yes, ma’am?” he asked.

      “You went inside Claudia’s apartment, didn’t you?” she asked with a suspicious tone.

      “Yes, ma’am,” Jack replied. “I’m looking for her.”

      “Are you a friend of hers?”

      “Yes, ma’am.” He stepped forward, hoping for some intel. “I’m Jack, and worried about Claudia. What’s your name, ma’am?”

      “Maude Spalding.”

      “Do you know where Claudia is, Ms. Spalding?”

      “No.” The old woman struggled to take a breath. “I haven’t seen her for over a week, and she always used to check on me.”

      “Claudia is a nurse,” Jack stated, hoping for confirmation.

      “And a damn good one.” Maude narrowed her eyes. “Had someone messed up her rooms?”

      “Why do you ask?”

      Maude sucked in a deep breath. “Wait. I need my oxygen.”

      Jack followed Maude into her apartment and came to a shocked halt. He didn’t think anything could surprise him anymore, but the explosion of Christmas decorations that assaulted his vision made him blink. A staggering number of twinkling lights, Santa Claus figures and snowmen overflowed every surface of the room. Maude collapsed in a recliner and inserted an oxygen tube in her nostrils. After inhaling deeply several times she said, “That’s better.”

      “I guess you like the holidays,” Jack said, still dazed.

      “Tell me about Claudia’s place,” Maude demanded, definitely more feisty now that she could breathe. “Was her cat locked up inside? I’ve been worried about Moochie since she disappeared.”

      “No cat,” Jack said. “And the door wasn’t locked.”

      Maude’s eyes widened. “Not locked?”

      “No. And she didn’t take her belongings.”

      “I didn’t think so. Didn’t hear her move out.”

      “Why did you ask if her rooms were messed up?”

      “I heard someone up there.” Looking upward, Maude dropped her voice, as if worried that someone would overhear. “Sounded like they trashed the place. I warned her that night before she went upstairs. Then I never saw her again.”

      “Why didn’t you call the police?”

      Maude drew herself up. “Not my business to call down the police on a sweet thing like Claudia.”

      Jack interpreted that to mean Maude knew Claudia had something to hide from the authorities. “Anything else you can tell me?”

      “Just I figure whoever is after her is still watching her apartment, looking to see if she comes back so’s they can snatch her.”

      “What makes you say that?”

      Maude shifted her gaze toward her window, which had a good view of the stairs and the courtyard beyond. But the old lady wore glasses an inch thick. “Seen some strange folks around lately.”

      “Strange folks?” Jack prompted. “Can you explain?”

      “Mean talking men. I’m home all day. Got nothing else to do but watch folks come and go, and I don’t like the looks of some of these ’uns.”

      “Have you seen them today?”

      “No. And I didn’t see ’em the night Claudia left, but I’m thinking it was them that drove her off.”

      “Thank you, Ms. Spalding. I appreciate your help.”

      “You look like a right capable young man,” Maude said, meeting Jack’s gaze imploringly. “Nothing like those other fellows. Please find Ms. Claudia and help her. She always helped me.”

      Jack drove back to the ferry with more questions than answers rippling through his thoughts. He needed a conversation with Claudia Goodwin.

      If that was her real name.

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