The Daisy Dunlop Mystery Box Set: Lost Cause, Lost & Found, Lost Property

by JL Simpson

  Solomon chuckled. “Don’t worry yourself. You’re not that attractive.”

  “Screw you, Solomon.”

  “If that’s an offer I’ll have to say no. I’ve got standards.”

  “Fine. If you won’t come and get me, then I’ll call Paul and tell him to bail me out at the police station. You’d better keep a tight hold of your balls, though. Paul told me you’d be looking out for me, and yet here I am about to be banged-up in jail for life. He won’t be happy when he gets home from filling the country’s ATMs with money and I’m not there to cook his dinner.”

  “I’ve tasted your cooking, Daisy. The man’s digestive system would welcome the break.”

  “You arse-wipe. I’ll just take my chances with the fuzz.”

  Solomon couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Calm yourself, woman. I’ll be there in twenty minutes, and then you can tell me what you did to get the fine gentlemen at Langdon College so upset.”

  Chapter Three

  Daisy stared at the door and then at the clock ticking ominously on the wall. What if Solomon was full of shit and had no intention of coming to her rescue? So much for proving she was capable of being left to her own devices. She’d failed before she’d even begun. Solomon could be on the phone to Paul right now telling him how much danger she’d put herself in. If Paul freaked out she’d have to go back to working in an office.

  Unable to sit any longer, she got up and looked around. A bank of filing cabinets stood along one wall. They were labeled, and she hovered at the drawer containing the W’s. Would Toby be under W for Wareham or M for Mardon? She grabbed the handle and tugged, but the drawer wouldn’t open.

  She turned her attention to the desk. The keys must be somewhere. She pulled out all the drawers but found nothing. Papers were sorted in neat piles on the top. Two folders caught her eye. She flipped the first open. It contained planning details for a combined dance with St. Swithin’s girls’ school. She flipped open the second. Jackpot. Newspaper clippings about Toby’s disappearance. How odd. She could take them with her, but what would be the point? She could get them all elsewhere. But the fact the headmaster had them on his desk had to mean something.

  She’d tried to open the door already, but there was still the window. She slipped between the desk chair and the huge gaping maw that housed some serious-looking leadlight windows. The stone ledge that acted as the windowsill shone smooth from years of use. In her tight black jeans there was no way she could climb up to reach the window catch without assistance.

  She tugged the only piece of furniture she could move to the window, took a deep breath, and climbed up onto the black leather seat. Her spike heels sank deep and she wobbled, grabbing at the window catch to steady herself. The ornate metal handle moved easily, and she squealed with delight. Who needed Solomon? Daisy Dunlop could save herself. After a couple of shoves at the frame, she realized the window opened inward. She pulled it toward her and scooted the chair she was balanced on across the floor to avoid banging the immense frame into her body. A squeal of excitement died on her lips.

  “Bars?” The bloody opening was protected by metal bars. Obviously this office was used as a prison on a regular basis. Cool wind circled the room, blowing papers off the desk. Not yet ready to admit defeat, she tugged at the bars. The one in her left hand moved. She shifted her weight on the chair so that she could grip it with two hands. As she gave a great heave the chair spun out from beneath her. Her body slammed hip first into the solid stone wall.

  “Ow, flip, for Fred’s sake.” Feet dangling about two feet from the floor, she had no choice but to give up and let go. She landed heavily and lurched sideways as she fought to balance in her heels. Hands flailing, she grabbed the edge of the desk and steadied herself. Now she was really screwed.

  Male voices sounded in the corridor. The grating sound of the key turning in the lock had her scooting across the room in the hope no one would notice she’d been trying to escape. What she needed was something heavy to use to protect herself. She grabbed an owl-shaped metal ink well and balanced, ready to attack.

  Mr. Marlborough stepped through the door. Solomon followed.

  “Thank God.” She dropped the ink well on the floor, threw herself across the room and hugged Solomon like a giant teddy bear. She came to her senses when a deep chuckle sounded in his chest. With a toss of her head she stepped back.

  “Missed me did you, Princess?”

  She glared at him. He had the bloody cheek to smile and wink at her. Between clenched teeth she spat out, “I didn’t miss you at all. I never miss you. And my name’s not bloody Princess.”

  “But you do need me to clean up the mess you’ve made?”

  Daisy desperately wanted to forget her promise to Paul and tell him to fuck off. However she knew Solomon had the upper hand. The momentary pleasure of swearing at him could result in her being left for Maggot Marlborough to deal with and hours pleading her innocence. Without Solomon, her chances of avoiding a ride in a police car were slim. Assuming that was the only fate the ominous-looking headmaster had planned for her. She tugged her leather jacket straight and turned to focus on Mr. Marlborough. “Solomon, perhaps you’d like to tell this man exactly what I was doing here, and then we can be on our way.”

  “I’ve already told Mr. Marlborough that you suffer from an imbalance of the mind, and that your family hired me to find you, again.”

  She opened and shut her mouth a couple of times. “I what?”

  Solomon closed the gap she’d opened up between them, wrapped an arm around her middle and tugged her so that her arms were pinned to her sides and her back was tight against him. His other hand clamped down over her mouth.

  “Like I said, I’m sorry she caused you some trouble. I’ll be sure to make certain she takes her medication and that the locks on the doors at the hospital are made more secure. Thank goodness I arrived before she escaped.”

  Daisy stamped her ice-pick-thin heel down on Solomon’s foot, but his steel-toe-capped boots didn’t give. She wriggled instead, desperate to knee him in the groin, or elbow him in the ribs. She wasn’t mad. She’d been violated. And it had happened because she was trying to solve his damn case. A case he seemed to have no interest in.

  Mr. Marlborough nodded his head. “Very well, Solomon. Seeing as it’s you, I’ll let it go this once.”

  “Right you are. We’ll be on our way, then.”

  Solomon lifted her feet off the floor and marched out the door with her dangling helplessly in his grip. She could hear the footsteps of Mr. Marlborough following. “You will be here to play in the rugby on the weekend. The old boys’ team is still very low on numbers.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Daisy gave up the struggle. She couldn’t even bite the hand that still covered her mouth. Solomon was too strong. His arm felt like a band of steel around her middle, and her left hand was going numb from lack of blood. Did Maggot Marlborough mention rugby? Why would Solomon be playing rugby for the pompous pricks at Langdon College? Old boys? Jesus Christ, Solomon must have gone to school there. Surely not? He was hardly landed gentry. He was more brainless muscle than merchant banker. Another mystery she needed to solve.

  *

  Once they cleared the main gates Solomon loosened his grip and let her slide down his body. With a growl she stepped away from him, raising her fist, but before she could make contact he pulled a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket, fastened one bracelet around her right wrist and the other around his left wrist. He wasn’t going to risk her getting into anything else. Bad enough she looked like she’d gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson. Paul would be pissed off.

  She tugged at the cuff like the madwoman he’d told Mr. Marlborough she was. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Taking you back to the asylum.”

  “Fuck you, Solomon.” She put her left fist on her hip and glared at him. “Did Maggot tell you what happened? No, of course not.”

  “You we
re trespassing.”

  “I was on the bloody tour. I got lost.”

  “Liar.”

  “Fine. Whatever. I was trying to get some background on Lord Tobias. Don’t you think it’s odd that when I mentioned his name Maggot wanted to call the cops? And he has a file full of newspaper clippings about Toby on his desk.”

  Solomon started walking, tugging her along with him. “Where’s your car?”

  “What sort of school does nothing when their pupils try to assault an innocent bystander?”

  “What kind of crazy woman goes into an all-boys’ school dressed like a teenage boy’s fantasy computer game character?”

  “What? So you think… What?”

  She stood her ground, and he turned, giving her the once-over with his eyes. “You’re like a red-headed Lara Croft in that getup, Princess.”

  “I dressed for work. My hair is strawberry blonde, and my name is not Princess.”

  Solomon couldn’t keep the smug smile from his face. “So, Princess is the name of your boobs, then?”

  She glanced down at herself and growled. Apparently she’d forgotten her figure-hugging black T-shirt had PRINCESS in pink sparkly script emblazoned across her chest. “You think I was asking to be molested? And since when did you become an expert on what turns teenage boys on?”

  He chuckled. “I used to be one. And no woman ever asks for it, but Langdon College would never take your side. You can’t threaten an institution like that.”

  “You went to school there, didn’t you? That’s why you’re protecting them.”

  “Princess, you have completely lost the plot now.” Solomon grabbed her hand and marched across the road, back toward the main street. “Are you parked behind Sainsbury’s?”

  “I’m right, aren’t I? You went to school there. Maybe you’re involved in the conspiracy.”

  “What? What bleedin’ conspiracy?”

  “The one that made Toby disappear.”

  “There is no conspiracy.”

  “So why won’t they talk about him?”

  “Because you violated their trust. You can’t march in and demand answers. Subtlety is the key to getting people to talk, and you’re about as subtle as a fecking jackhammer. If you were serious about this business, you’d take your time and ask me before going off chasing some mad idea.”

  “I did ask, but instead of answering me you left the office.”

  “Which is where you were supposed to stay.”

  “Fine. So we go back to the office, and you can teach me.”

  “Where are you parked?”

  “Behind Sainsbury’s.”

  Thankfully she shut up and walked quietly beside him as they weaved through the throng of school kids on their way home and shoppers weighed down with full bags. They got a few strange looks handcuffed together, but Solomon kept moving. The car park was full, but he had no trouble picking out her lemon-yellow hatchback. He let her hand go, and she tugged her arm, pulling the cuff tight around his wrist.

  “You can let me go now. Unless you plan to come with me? In which case you can pay Paul the five pounds you made me owe him.”

  “What are you going on about now?”

  She pulled herself up to her full height and gave him a glare that no doubt made most men shiver in their army surplus boots. However, Solomon had seen more than most men, and Daisy would need to pull a nuclear weapon from her arse before he would back down.

  “Thanks to you, we’ve blown the case.”

  “There was no case to blow, Princess.”

  “That place is involved. I know it is.”

  “Bollocks.”

  Daisy glared at him. “Whatever. You can deny it all you like, but you can’t deny that thanks to you I owe Paul a fiver for using the F-word.”

  He tugged his keys from his pocket and undid the cuffs. “Your choice of language is your own problem. I never asked you to swear at me, or for me.”

  She rubbed her wrist. “What is it with you and handcuffs? Why can’t you play nice?”

  “Why couldn’t you stay in the bleedin’ office where I told you to?”

  “You said I didn’t need to go out, not that I couldn’t go out.”

  “You didn’t bleedin’ well need to go out.”

  “I was on to something.”

  “Bollocks.” He leaned his butt against the driver’s-side door of her car and folded his arms. “And anyway, where did that something lead you exactly? I’ll tell you, shall I?”

  Daisy folded her arms, imitating his stance. No doubt a technique she had learnt at some stupid seminar on sales and winning people’s trust. However, she did stay quiet, so she was smart enough to know his question was rhetorical.

  “It got you a smack in the face and nearly arrested for trespass. Go home, Daisy.”

  “Now you believe they attacked me?”

  Solomon leaned closer to her. Cupping her chin with his left hand, he tipped her face to the side. A bruise was starting to bloom on her cheekbone, and the area was beginning to swell. “Never said I didn’t, Princess. You need to put some ice on that.”

  “On what?” She pulled free and bent to look at her reflection in the car’s wing mirror. “Shit.”

  He watched as she prodded the lump with her index finger.

  “Ouch. Paul’s going to go mental.”

  She spun around, and Solomon did his best to hide the smile that was threatening to break free. Daisy poked at his chest with her finger. “You’re happy this happened, aren’t you? I bet you think Paul will tell me to give up and go back to an office job. Well think again, buster. I’ve got ways to change Paul’s mind you can’t even begin to imagine.”

  He gave up the fight and let his mouth curl into a huge smile. She was amusing, in an annoying sort of way, and even better, she was right. Paul was going to tell her to give up, and Solomon would get his solitude back. “I doubt you can do anything I can’t imagine, Princess.” He leaned closer. “The question is, do I even want to imagine such a thing?”

  Daisy shoved him aside, tugged her keys from her pocket, and pressed the button to unlock the car. He stepped back, and she slid in behind the wheel and glared at him. “Fuck you, Solomon.”

  He laughed. “That will be costing you another fiver. See you later, Princess.”

  She slammed the door so hard the car rocked on its wheels. The engine roared to life, and the car lurched forward. As he watched her speed away, a black leather-clad arm appeared out of the window and gave him the one-finger salute. That would cost her another fiver. He would pay fifteen quid and more to be a fly on the wall when Paul got home from work. Fingers crossed, her womanly charms couldn’t overcome Paul’s determination to protect Daisy from herself, and Solomon’s life would go back to normal. Solomon pondered the odds before pulling his phone from his pocket and scrolling through his contacts list.

  Chapter Four

  Daisy woke to the gentle sound of Paul snoring. She propped herself up on one elbow and watched him. He was beautiful when he was sleeping. The young soldier who’d swept her off her feet when she was still a teenager had grown to be a wonderful husband, considerate lover, and the greatest thing to ever happen in her life. She sighed. Paul deserved better. She should tell him about her trip to Langdon College. Lying to him, even by omission, was never a good idea. He’d been a military policeman, and no doubt knew a million ways to torture the truth out of someone. Not that he would ever torture her. The disappointment and the hurt in his eyes would be punishment enough once he found out the truth.

  As if he sensed he was being watched his eyelids flickered. The blue eyes that had dazzled her the first time they met appeared from beneath his thick dark lashes.

  “Morning, beautiful.” The smile that slowly turned up his mouth was sexy and full of wanton desire.

  He reached up and brushed his thumb over her bruised cheek.

  “I need to tell you about what happened yesterday.”

  “No need.”

  “Re
ally?”

  “Solomon called.”

  “I bet he did. I can explain.”

  “Nothing to explain, beautiful. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d tripped wearing those stupid boots. Although I prefer you don’t smash your face into a car door next time.”

  She frowned. What the hell was Solomon playing at? He’d had the perfect opportunity to get rid of her and instead he’d made up a bullshit story to cover up what had really happened.

  She should tell Paul the truth. She should. But then maybe it would be better to find out what Solomon’s game was first. What did she even know about the Irish git? Other than he liked to handcuff women at every opportunity. “Paul?”

  He scrubbed a hand through his short dark hair. “Daisy?”

  “You’re not worried about me, are you?”

  “Do I need to be?”

  “I was just wondering with my new venture. I’m not always…you know, very successful.”

  “Ah…you mean am I worried because in the past every other business idea went up in smoke, and in the case of the fish-and-chip shop, I mean literally went up in smoke?”

  “Mr. Singh did say leaving the fat fryer on at the end of the shift was an easy mistake to make. And he got the insurance money so he didn’t need to sell the business to me after all.”

  “And you didn’t want to own it once you realized you had no aptitude, so it worked out for everyone.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And what was the upside to the time you wanted us to buy a pub and went working as a bar maid while I was stationed in Germany?”

  Daisy wrinkled her nose. “It taught me that when a biker grabs your arse, and your husband’s best mate starts a near riot over it, a pool cue is a handy weapon to use if you want to slow men down. Apparently hairy bikers don’t find playing pool as much fun when you use their testicles instead of the white ball to try and pot the black.”