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

by JL Simpson

  “How about we drive down to the Marina and eat by the water?”

  “How about you get in the bleedin’ car and stop wasting my time? You were supposed to stay put and work on finding your missing heir.”

  “If you haven’t been to the office how did you know I’d gone out?”

  “I’m a P.I. Knowing things is my business. Besides, you never do what you’re told. Now are you going to get in, or do I have to get out and throw you in the back?”

  “You wouldn’t, would you?”

  His only response was a scowl. She was all out of excuses, and if she ran he would soon outpace her. Going to the gym moved up her list of priorities. With no options left, she strolled around the car and climbed in the passenger side.

  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as she fumbled to do up her seatbelt. Once she was safely buckled in he gunned the engine and peeled out of the car park.

  She opened the glove box and started rummaging.

  “What is it that you’re doing?”

  “Looking for some tunes.”

  “I don’t have any.”

  “Of course you don’t. What about the radio, then?”

  “What about you tell me why you really left the office.”

  “I will if you will.”

  “What?”

  “Why did you leave in such a rush?”

  “I had a meeting.”

  “With?”

  “Detective Maloney.”

  “About?”

  “The leg.”

  “Good idea. I thought I might have a word with Dan myself. He’s very forthcoming after a beer or two.”

  “Stay away from him.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s a womanizer.”

  Daisy laughed. “He’s married.”

  “So.”

  “So why would you think he’s a womanizer?”

  “Is he a man?”

  “Of course.”

  “Does he have a penis?”

  Daisy shrugged. “I guess he must have one. He does have a kid, and Bridget has never complained that he’s not up to the job.”

  “Well, then, he’s a womanizer.”

  “What about Paul? He’s got a penis.”

  “Doughnut’s different.”

  She wasn’t going to argue with that. Paul was different. He would never stray. However, why Solomon put him in a different category to the rest of the male population was a mystery. She glanced in his direction. His focus was on the road ahead, hands gripping the steering wheel, jaw set like concrete. Now wasn’t a good time to ask. She’d wait until he was more relaxed, and in a sharing mood before broaching the topic of his relationship with Paul.

  “If you only need a penis to be a womanizer, does the opposite apply?”

  “What?”

  “You said you’re not interested in women before you left the office, so can I assume you don’t have a penis? It sure as hell would explain why you’re so grumpy all the time. Sexual frustration is such a bitch.”

  “I can’t even begin to imagine how your brain works. I’m not discussing my wedding tackle with you.”

  “Good, because I really don’t want that picture in my head. I’ll just keep assuming you don’t have any. You’re like a Ken doll.”

  Solomon glanced at her. “I prefer G.I. Joe or Action Man.”

  “Hmm, a man who knows his dolls. Cute. Next you’ll be telling me you’re in touch with your feminine side and love romantic comedies and large tubs of chocolate ice cream.”

  “Shut the feck up and eat, Princess.”

  Solomon glared, and she turned her attention to lunch, grabbing the bakery bag from the middle console. “Yum. You got me a ham bap and chocolate cake. I could kiss you.”

  “There you go with the bleedin’ flirting again.” Solomon shifted his focus from the road to Daisy, and she turned on an innocent smile.

  The journey continued in silence. As soon as Solomon pulled the SUV to a stop outside the office Daisy grabbed the bag with her cake in it and climbed out. “I’ll go and buy us both a coffee.”

  Solomon climbed out and locked the doors. “What?”

  “Coffee? I can’t eat cake without coffee. I’ll get you one too, no charge.”

  She didn’t wait for a response. The bigger the distance between her and Solomon when he found his kicked-in door the better.

  Chapter Eleven

  Solomon watched Daisy sprint across the street toward the café. The day before she’d all but torn him a new one when he ordered her to get coffee, and now she was scuttling off without being asked. Buying her lunch had been a good idea. Even though her conversations were weird and inane at times, and she flirted like it was a competition, her heart was in the right place. Shame she worked at pissing him off like it was an Olympic sport.

  He jogged down the steps to the office, pulled the key from his pocket, and turned it in the lock. The door swung open, and he stepped inside. Something was wrong. He could see light spilling into the back corridor. Light from a room that he kept locked. He ground his teeth. No wonder she’d been in such a hurry to buy coffee. She’d probably gone to Starbucks in the High Street. In fact she might not be back with it until tomorrow. Obviously her curiosity had got the better of her.

  He made his way through the office and down the corridor. The door had been kicked in. The lock keeper hung from the door frame by one screw. He stepped inside and inhaled the faint scent of spicy perfume.

  “Fecking hell.” It was worse than he thought. Daisy wasn’t responsible. He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen to bring up the personal GPS app. Daisy hadn’t run far. She probably thought he would jump to conclusions and go mental at her. Either that or once Lisa left she’d snooped and found something. He opened the safe at the back of the cupboard and checked the contents. His gun sat on top of the pile of documents just the way he’d left it, and everything appeared to be in place. There was nothing else in the room that would be of interest to anyone so Daisy couldn’t have discovered anything from snooping. The question was, what had she found out from Lisa?

  * * * *

  Daisy sat at the counter in the florist’s. Belinda was busy building a wedding bouquet with red and white roses.

  The blonde looked up from her work. “So, if that second cup of coffee isn’t for me, and you don’t want to talk about the woman at the office earlier, why are you here?”

  “I was on my way back with a cup for Solomon and thought I would update you about Toby.”

  “Any luck?”

  Daisy shrugged. “Not sure. I met a guy, who knows a guy, who could have a guitar like Toby’s.”

  Belinda smiled. “Talk about vague.”

  A cool breeze hit the back of Daisy’s legs as the bell above the shop door tinkled. She could tell by the way Belinda’s pupils dilated and her cheeks turned pink who had entered the store, but she refused to acknowledge him. Although she guessed he wasn’t breathing fire if Belinda was smiling at him like a lust-filled fool.

  “Finding someone who might know something is a start. I did think this whole heir-hunting thing would be more exciting, though.” Daisy raised her hand. “Hi, Solomon.”

  The barstool she was sitting on was swiveled around until she was face-to-face with him.

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “I’m an heir hunter. Detecting people is my thing.” She tried a smile, but it failed to melt his icy demeanor.

  “Maybe you can come and help me detect who kicked in the door to my room.”

  He grabbed her wrist, and she squealed as he pulled her to her feet. She struggled, but his grip tightened. “Don’t make me use the cuffs.”

  Belinda sighed. “I wish I could help you detect stuff.”

  “If you want to be handcuffed to the Irish git you need to work harder at pissing him off. A woman not doing as she’s told is his kryptonite.”

  “Daisy,” Solomon growled.

  Hmm. She was no longer h
is princess. “I’m coming.” She picked up his cup. “Look, I bought you coffee.”

  He took it from her with his free hand, and she reached out and grabbed her cup. Belinda waved as Solomon dragged Daisy across the shop.

  “See you later.”

  Daisy glanced at Solomon and back at Belinda. “If you don’t see me tomorrow call the cops before searching the office for my dead body.”

  Belinda’s laughter followed them outside.

  Solomon loosened his grip. “Are you going to behave and do as you’re told? Because if you run off, I will hunt you down.”

  “Yes, master. You do know that whatever you think I did, I didn’t.”

  He indicated for her to go down the steps first, and she sighed. She might as well face the music. The office door was unlocked and she entered, crossed to her desk, and sat. Solomon followed her inside, slamming and locking the front door behind him. His jaw was set like he was gritting his teeth. Maybe she should call Paul to talk Solomon down before he did something stupid.

  She shrank back as he marched toward her. He only stopped when he was way too close. Arms folded, legs wide, and icy glare in place, he hovered over her.

  “What happened?”

  “I’m guessing you already know what happened. Some crazy woman showed up and kicked your bedroom door in.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “Why am I getting attitude? It was nothing to do with me. What if she’d got the wrong idea about why I was here and thought we were a couple? She might have kicked my head in. Man, she was batshit crazy. It was probably just as well you were out or she might have set to on your nuts, assuming you’re only missing a penis.”

  For a second she thought Solomon was going to smile, but if he’d been tempted he fought hard to hide it.

  “Anyway. She kicked the door in and said it was your turn to have Molly on the weekend, and that you need to pay her this week’s money.”

  “And did you go and look through my stuff?”

  Daisy got busy sipping her coffee. She could say no, but if he’d already used his magical detecting skills and knew the answer was yes, it would really piss him off. She’d seen him go mental once before in that bar brawl, and she didn’t want to see it again. Besides, he was using the CIA interrogator stink eye on her.

  “Yes. Okay. I did. I looked. And all I have to say is, I would never have picked you as a white boxer briefs man.”

  “Anything else?”

  “You have an unhealthy obsession with tidiness.”

  Solomon stared at her for a few minutes longer, and then he wandered across to his own desk.

  Daisy sighed with relief and leaned back in her chair. “Do you live here?”

  “No.”

  “Where do you live, then?”

  “In a house.”

  “Who’s Molly?”

  “No one.”

  “What about Lisa?”

  Solomon looked up from his computer. “What about her?”

  “Did she used to be your significant other?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Why do you owe her money?”

  “Again, none of your business.”

  Daisy shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Thanks for sharing. I feel like I know you a whole lot better now.”

  “You know me better than most.” He glanced at her and smiled. “Only a select few get to see my underpants.”

  “I didn’t want to see them.”

  “Then you should stop sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted. Who knows what you might get an eyeful of next.”

  “Didn’t you ban flirting?”

  “I did, for you. Fortunately I can be trusted, so your comments about my underwear have no effect on me. I am impervious to your female wiles.”

  “Wiles?”

  Her ring tone sounded and she grabbed her phone from her bag. She didn’t recognize the number. Solomon would have to wait for a scathing reply.

  “Hello.”

  “I hear you’re in the market for a guitar.”

  “I am. Did Levi tell you the details?”

  “I’ve got them. I’ll be at the Staff and Flagon for the next half an hour.”

  “Who should I ask for?”

  “You don’t ask at the Staff and Flagon.”

  “What do you look like, then?”

  A deep chuckle that reminded her of Peter Cushing sounded down the phone. “You’ll know me when you see me.”

  The phone went dead, and she shivered. Did she really want to go to a pub notorious for drunken brawls and loose women on her own? It was the middle of the afternoon. How badly could anyone behave in broad daylight? She glanced at Solomon. The other option was to take the Irish git with her. He looked at her and frowned.

  “Who was it?”

  Daisy got to her feet and grabbed her bag. “No one important.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out.”

  “When will you be back?”

  She shrugged. “Later.”

  “Daisy…”

  The door slammed behind her. Now he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end for once. Perhaps next time she asked him a question she’d get a sensible response.

  Chapter Twelve

  Daisy paid off the cab driver and entered the dingy pub. The stench of stale beer and sweat filled the air. A babble of male voices slowed and stopped. She smiled and gave a little wave in greeting. Way to go. The bar was full of men. Fat men, skinny men, bald men, hairy men, young men, older men—but they were all men. Except for the busty brunette behind the bar, who was definitely a woman. Head held high, Daisy crossed the room. This was the twenty-first century. Women were allowed in pubs on their own, even dodgy ones. The barmaid shook her head.

  “You must be brave, stupid, or both.”

  “Why?”

  “That lot have been in here since the doors opened. It’s Mick’s bachelor’s do, and they’re waiting for the stripper to arrive. You don’t look like the stripping sort, but they’re wound up so tight any woman will do. If she doesn’t show up soon, we’ll both be fighting to keep our clothes on.”

  Daisy leaned forward and whispered, “Aren’t you afraid?”

  “Nope. I’ve taken my kegs off for them before. The wages in this place are shit, and those boys pay well. So, are you staying?”

  Daisy glanced around the room and noticed a man sitting alone in the corner. He looked like an escapee from a seventies rock band. If Steven Tyler ever retired, this dude could step in and take his place, assuming he sang and didn’t just dress the part.

  “I’m staying. I’ll have a white wine please, and another of whatever the guy in the corner’s having.”

  “Zut?”

  “If that’s his name, then yes, Zut.”

  “That’ll be twelve pound fifty. I’ll bring ’em out to you. You might want to watch for wandering hands on your way over.”

  Daisy took a deep breath and skirted around the edge of the group of rowdy blokes. Thank God she’d caught a cab. If Solomon were there he’d go mental. Although if Solomon were there he would also protect her from the man who currently had his hand halfway up her leg.

  She glared at the offender and grabbed his arm. He winked and tugged her toward him. Unable to stop the momentum she slammed her heel into the top of the man’s foot. Sneakers were no match for spike heels. He grimaced and let go. She leaned closer and whispered, “Don’t touch me again. And before you ask, I’m not a stripper, and the last man who assumed I was is still in hospital. The doctors are searching for his left nut, which I pocketed behind his liver with a pool cue.”

  The man’s face paled, and the conversation hushed.

  “You all right, Mick? Don’t tell me you’ve finally got the balls to try and hook up with a woman now Sonja has you firmly on a leash.” The pimple-faced youth sitting to Mick’s right snorted into his pint. “Too late to sow your wild oats now. You’d have to ask Sonja to give you your balls ba
ck first. If I’d have known you were interested I could have given you some of me leftover women. They’re not fussy about a man’s performance.”

  She could imagine any woman who hooked up with pimples was desperate enough for anything. In forty years he would slip into the role of dirty old man with no problem at all. Daisy turned her attention to the man who had accosted her. Apparently she’d been fondled by the groom. Now she looked at him she could see he was a lad in his early twenties. She felt bad humiliating him at his own buck’s show. The boy was probably just overenthusiastic about enjoying his last moments of freedom and wanted to show his moronic friends he was a real man.

  Daisy reached out and ran her fingers through Mick’s dark hair. “Mick doesn’t need leftovers, do you, babe? Mick’s better than all right; he’s fantastic.” She gave him a wink. “See ya, cock.”

  Mick smiled. “See you, gorgeous.”

  The guy to his left snorted. “Jesus, Mick, if your Sonja hears you’ve been putting it about she’ll kill you. And there I was thinking you never had it in you. I can’t believe you had an older woman and one that looks as good as that. Man, you old dog, you.”

  The older woman comment stung a little, but the rest of the sentence puffed up Daisy’s ego. She still had it. Daisy continued across the bar to where Zut sat. He watched her progress. She slipped into the seat across the booth from him.

  “Zut?”

  He smiled, showing a set of white teeth a Hollywood A-lister would be proud of. Now she was closer to him she could see he was probably in his mid to late twenties. She’d imagined he was older because of his strange taste in retro fashion. He was really rocking the Lycra and leather. She could only assume he did kickboxing, or carried a weapon, to be in this part of town dressed that way. The smile never made it to his green eyes, and the small crescent-shaped scar on his left cheek gave an added air of menace. When his focus shifted to her chest she clenched her hands in her lap. Leering didn’t bother her. Leering she understood. But Zut’s appraising look made her shiver.

  His gaze met hers, and she fought to hold eye contact. “Daisy, I assume?”

  “That’s me. So, what do you have for me?”

  “What’s it worth?”