by JL Simpson
Buying the place would have set her back a pretty penny. Sandbanks was world-famous for being home to some of the most expensive real estate on the planet. Daisy could see the appeal of an ocean view, but she would prefer for her garden to end at the tropical waters of the Caribbean.
The door swung open, and a diminutive woman in understated jeans and a pale blue shirt entered the room. Daisy wouldn’t have recognized her as Phat Kitty if she didn’t already know who they were meeting. The only clue to her identity was her long platinum blonde hair.
Solomon got to his feet. “Ms. Beckitt. Good of you to see us.”
She held out a tiny hand, and Solomon gave it a gentle shake before letting it go. “Happy to help, Mr. Solomon.” The lady might not look the same offstage, but the Brummy accent still flavored her words, and the deep husky voice could belong to no one else.
“It’s just Solomon.”
“Okay, Just Solomon. Please, call me Maureen.” She laughed and Solomon smiled.
Maureen’s keeper moved to stand behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Tea and coffee will be served shortly.”
Maureen placed her hand over Mr. Tyler’s, stepped back until her body brushed his and smiled up at him. “Thanks, Jason. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Daisy might not be able to read Solomon’s body language, but she had no trouble identifying what was going on between Phat and her manager. The man was banging her for sure. They’d done well to keep it out of the tabloids. Someone in the know could make a lot of money selling that secret.
Daisy took a seat and sipped at the tea that had been delivered by a maid. Her morning’s activities had left her drained and, now she thought about it, in need of the facilities. She placed her empty cup and saucer on the coffee table and fidgeted. The way the conversation was going they could be all day. Every question Solomon asked was parried by the manager, and his questions were banal small talk about her music and upcoming tour. If Phat had nothing to hide, her manager was doing a good job of making her look guilty.
Solomon broke off mid-sentence and glanced at Daisy. “Problem?”
“Sorry.” She smiled at Ms. Beckitt. “It was a long drive. Do you mind if I use your loo?”
“Not at all. Jason, would you do the honors?”
The tall man got to his feet, and Daisy grabbed her bag and followed suit. Along with the curled lip, she was privy to a wrinkled nose. His disdain for her had definitely lifted a notch. Perhaps the rich and famous didn’t pee.
Mr. Tyler walked a pace ahead. Daisy didn’t bother catching up. Conversation with the man would be awkward at best. Besides, based on her day so far, she would be bound to say something stupid like, So, how do you feel about your girlfriend being the chosen masturbation aid for the majority of men under twenty-five? Would he lose his cool? Somehow she doubted it. The man had a stick so far up his arse it was almost poking out of the top of his head.
They climbed the stairs, and he stopped and pointed at a door. “The powder room.”
Daisy smiled. “Thanks.”
He crossed his arms like he intended to stand guard.
She rubbed her stomach. “I hope you’ve got plenty of air-freshener. Maybe the extra-large serving of vindaloo curry last night was a mistake. You know how it is, though. Who can resist a beer and curry? Or even better, a lot of beer and curry?”
Daisy held back a laugh as the man took a step backward, spun on his heels, and then strode down the stairs and back toward the lounge room. She ducked inside and locked the door. Bloody hell! The bathroom was as big as Sherman’s bedroom.
*
Solomon leaned forward and smiled at Ms. Beckitt. She was a very pretty girl without the bucket loads of makeup. Even though he had a good idea what lay beneath her shirt and jeans, because it had gyrated its way across his widescreen TV wearing almost nothing more than once, he had to admit the basic everyday model was much sexier than the music siren she usually portrayed.
“I guess in your business you meet a lot of people.”
She smiled. “Millions.”
“Tell me, do you have your own band?”
“Sometimes. I usually take the same group of guys on tour, but they might not be the ones I used to record the album in the studio.”
“I wonder if you’ve ever worked with a Zut Smith?”
“Zut?”
“I believe his real name is Suetonius. He has a band, Zut and the Newtonians.”
“Um.” Her cheeks flushed, and she dropped her gaze to her lap before fiddling with a gold bangle that encircled her wrist. He’d thought with her manager gone she might open up but apparently not.
The door swung open, and Mr. Tyler strode in. Maureen glanced up at him. “Jason. Solomon was asking about Zut.”
“Who?”
“I was asking if she’d ever worked with a man called Suetonius Smith. He goes by the name Zut and has his own band.”
“Never heard of him.” Mr. Tyler placed a hand on Maureen’s shoulder. “And neither has Ms. Beckitt. I also wonder about the relevance of your questions.”
Solomon watched as Jason flexed his fingers so they squeezed her shoulder. She hunched and stared at her lap. Something was going on between them. Whatever it was had her scared to speak.
“If you’ve finished, Ms. Beckitt really needs to rest. She’s got a rehearsal. She’s performing at a charity event for homeless men tomorrow.”
Solomon couldn’t keep the smile from his face. The cause seemed apt. He wondered if she was raising funds to house them or putting on a freebie to cheer them up. Either way the men would enjoy the outcome. “A worthy cause, I’m sure. Once my associate returns we’ll be on our way.”
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a business card. “If you think of anything else that might be of use. The sooner the insurance company is happy that the death of your uncle was an accident, the sooner they’ll pay out on the policy.”
Mr. Tyler snatched the card. “No amount of money can compensate Ms. Beckitt for the loss of a man she loved.”
“Indeed. However, I’m sure he would have wanted her to have the money, otherwise why take out the policy?”
Maureen got to her feet with Jason’s aid. “I never knew he’d taken out a policy until after he went missing. He called a week before the accident to say he was going away and to remember that he loved me. Regardless of what the press says, do I look like a woman in need of financial aid? The money goes to his estate, and I get some of the inheritance. I’m not the one looking after his estate and hadn’t even bothered to lodge a claim, so I have no idea why the insurance company is investigating me.”
Maureen’s voice broke, and she pulled a tissue from her pocket, dabbing at the tears flowing down her cheeks.
Mr. Tyler glared at Solomon. “I really must ask you to leave now. Ms. Beckitt mustn’t be distressed this way.”
The door to the room flew open, banging into an antique side table. Solomon leapt to his feet and grabbed a vase, steadying it before it fell to the floor.
Daisy shrugged. “Oops, sorry. I guess I got a little over exuberant. It must be the relief of finally using a bathroom. So much more refined than peeing behind a tree at the side of the road, or in a back alley on a Saturday night after you’ve had a few too many beers.”
Solomon grabbed her arm, and she shook him off. “Are we going already?”
Mr. Tyler moved closer. “Ms. Beckitt has answered all of your questions.”
Daisy pulled her phone from her bag. “Any chance of a photo of me with Maureen? My son is a huge fan, and he’ll never believe we met.”
Maureen shook her head. “I’m not fit to be photographed.”
Daisy smiled at her. “Oh, to have your problems. This is how I scrub up on a good day. You wouldn’t even want to see me when I wasn’t fit to be photographed.”
The blonde smiled. “Jason, do you want to go and grab one of the pictures left over from the magazine shoot we did last week?”
>
Grumbling under his breath, the manager left the room. Daisy watched him go. “Jeez. He’s a bit intense.”
“He just wants what’s best for me. His heart’s in the right place.”
“I understand.” Daisy glanced at Solomon. “Some men just have a strange way of showing they care.”
Maureen looked from one to the other. “Are you two married?”
Solomon grunted. “Not likely. Daisy’s a business associate. I find it’s never a good idea to mix business and pleasure.”
“I know what you mean.” Maureen glanced at the door and chewed her lip.
Jason reappeared with a photo and handed it to her.
“Have you got a pen, Jason?”
She took the pen he offered. “What’s your son’s name?”
“Sherman.”
She wrote, “To Sherman with love, Phat Kitty,” and added a kiss before handing it to Daisy.
Daisy was surprised when the blonde gave her a fierce hug, like she was love-starved. She returned the embrace before letting Maureen go and smiling. “Thanks. Sherman is going to be ecstatic.”
Jason stood watch by the door. “Now you really must leave.”
Chapter Nineteen
Solomon drove in silence. He was starting to get somewhere when Tyler had put the brakes on the whole interview. Maureen seemed genuinely distressed, but who could tell? She performed for a living. Were her tears part of the act? And why did she defer to that moron manager so much? There was definitely something going on between the two of them. And Jason Tyler lied with such conviction.
He glanced in his rearview mirror and slowed a little. “Well, would you look at that.”
“At what?”
He shifted his focus to Daisy, and then back to the road ahead. “It seems Mr. Tyler wants to make sure we’re really leaving.”
“What?”
She started to shift in her seat, but Solomon placed a hand on her arm. “Don’t look back. I don’t want him to know we’ve seen him. We’re being followed by a Mercedes. It’s made the last three turns we’ve made, even though I have effectively gone around in a circle.”
“Either you really upset him by making Phat cry, or he’s found out I was riffling through the cupboards and is on to me.”
“Why would he know or care what you were doing? And what was all that bollocks about peeing in alleyways? I happen to know you’re the sort who won’t settle for anything less than two-ply and facilities with a toilet seat.”
Daisy grinned. “I wanted to see the expression on that pompous manager’s face. He looked at me like I was scum, so I figured I would act it up a bit. The ploy worked in my favor. When I told him about the potential aftereffects of last night’s vindaloo, he hightailed it, and I got to snoop undetected.”
Solomon chuckled. “You’re a regular Miss Marple. And what did you find?”
“I took a peek into the bedrooms. The body language between them seemed to indicate some level of intimacy, but even if they are having sex, he isn’t living there. Only one of the upstairs rooms is furnished, and the clothes in the wardrobe all belong to her, unless he’s into cross-dressing. I guess he could be. You public school boys have strange ways of amusing yourselves. I bet you’ve worn a frock a time or two.”
“I didn’t go to public school.” Solomon glanced in the rearview mirror. They were still being followed.
“But you’re not denying cross-dressing?”
He looked at Daisy and raised an eyebrow. “I only wear a dress when absolutely necessary. I’m not overly fond of pantyhose. Now, are you going to tell me why you think matey is following us? What did you find?”
Daisy reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. “I was going to grab the papers, but I figured they would miss them so I used my super spying skills and took pictures on my phone instead.”
“Of what?”
“Let’s put it this way, she won’t be gyrating in slinky outfits for much longer.”
“What?”
“There was a letter from her doctor in the bedside cupboard. She’s up the duff, knocked up, in the family way.”
Solomon frowned. “So, you found out she’s pregnant. Why would he care unless you’re planning to spill the news to the press?”
“It gets better.”
“How?”
“She had a test done to see who the father is.”
“And?”
“It’s not the manager.”
“Who is it?”
“Dunno. It just said that Jason Tyler couldn’t be the baby daddy.”
“You’re giving me a headache. What does any of this have to do with the case?”
“No idea.” Daisy shrugged. “Obviously there was some thought he could be the kid’s dad, otherwise why do the test? And if he believed he was her only lover and this pregnancy has proved that she cheated on him, why is he hanging around? Unless he relies on her for his entire income. In which case he won’t be happy if she is going to have to take time off. According to the letter she’s already four months gone, so the big tour she was doing in six months will have to be cancelled. I guess that explains why she pulled out of going to New Zealand and Australia.
“If she came into a large inheritance he might be able to blackmail her by threatening to blab about her personal life. Her intimate secrets and the fact she cheated on him would be worth a fortune to the tabloid press. If she doesn’t want it dished up to the masses on a daily basis until the feeding frenzy ends, she might agree to anything to keep her life a secret.”
“That’s two reasons to investigate Jason Tyler.”
“Two? Was all the eyebrow action on the doorstep when we arrived some secret message about him? Because if it was I missed the training session on eyebrow-speak.”
“He was at the pub last night with John.”
“Interesting. Were they on a date? Because if they were, John really had me fooled with the whole asking me for a drink thing.”
“I have no idea what they were doing. They certainly weren’t holding hands or groping each other in a corner.”
“If that’s your idea of a date it’s no wonder you can’t find a woman.”
“I can find a woman.”
“But you’re not interested.”
“That’s the idea.”
Daisy chuckled. “Liar.”
“What?”
“I have no idea where you showered this morning, but whoever she was she has very feminine taste in toiletries. Your usual manly scent is missing.”
“Well, give the lady a clap.”
“I don’t want the clap, and if I did, I wouldn’t want it from you.”
Solomon shook his head. “Can we get back to the case?”
“So, Tyler was with John, and he’s the manager of the person who gets money from one of the policies via her uncle’s estate. If John’s involved why ask us to investigate? It makes no sense.”
“Neither does Tyler telling me he has never met Zut before when they were all drinking together at my local last night.”
“Your local? Do I know it?”
“Nope.”
“Where is it?”
“Near my house.”
“You really are a closed-mouth git.”
Solomon chuckled.
Daisy fidgeted in her seat. “Is he still following us?”
“Yes.”
“Where are we going? This isn’t the way back to Southampton.”
“Lunch.”
“Where?”
“Poole.”
“The Quay?”
“If that’s what you want, Princess.”
“I want fish and chips at that place on the waterfront.”
“Then that’s what you’ll have.”
“I would kiss you, except I’m almost out of toothpaste.”
“Thank God for small mercies.”
*
Daisy moaned with pleasure as the battered cod melted in her mouth. “God, this tastes so good, and look at
the view.”
She glanced out the window and watched the boats bobbing up and down on the swell the wind was whipping up in the harbor.
Solomon leaned back, sipping his glass of Diet Coke.
The black Mercedes followed them all the way to Poole, but as they’d parked at a multistory behind the High Street and walked, it wouldn’t have been easy for Tyler to follow without being seen.
Daisy glanced out the window. “Do you think he gave up on us and left yet?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Why do you care if he was following us anyway? It’s not like he doesn’t know how to find you. He has your card.”
“I’m not concerned about me, Princess. If we went back to Southampton he might decide to hang around until you’re alone, or follow you home. This way he’ll get bored and bugger off. Remember the arm?”
Daisy’s stomach turned over, and she pushed her half-empty plate to the side. “Thanks for reminding me. This P.I. business is a great diet plan.”
“Eat up. I like to watch you enjoy food.”
“Why? Because you can’t?” Solomon had consumed a very unappetizing-looking green salad with a serving of grilled haddock.
“I never met a woman who ate with such orgasmic pleasure.”
“What?”
“Most women don’t get as excited or moan as much during sex as you do when you eat.”
Daisy stabbed a chip with her fork. “You must be doing sex wrong. I’m not so much in love with food that I pull a sex face over it. Except for chocolate. Now chocolate could definitely be worthy of an orgasmic moan and a sex face.”
Solomon smiled.
Daisy smiled back. “Thanks.”
“What for?”
“Looking out for me. And taking my mind off the…thing.”
“Careful, Princess. You’ll be saying you like me next.”
“Let’s not get carried away.”
Daisy stabbed another chip, ignoring the pool of ketchup, which definitely looked unappetizingly like blood. “So, where to from here?”
“Back to the office. You’ve some more research to do.”
Chapter Twenty
Daisy sighed, and rolled her shoulders. She’d been slaving over a hot computer all afternoon looking for connections between Zut, John, Jason, and Maureen. She’d done a timeline of where in the world Maureen had performed based on her official Facebook page and fan sites. Zut’s band was a little harder to track, with much of the detail coming from advertising by venues where they played. The band had only been formed three months ago, and there were big holes in their history. However details on a former band, and Zut’s solo career, had been a little easier to find.
