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

Page 15

by JL Simpson


  “And the murderer?”

  Paul reached out for her. “Solomon’s right. Heir hunting is too dangerous for you.”

  Daisy shrugged Paul off. “Don’t even try to blame him. You were the one. You wanted me to fail. You pretended to support me, but all the time you were scheming with him of all people to get me to quit.”

  “It’s not like that, beautiful. Anyway, even if I was, getting you to quit was the right decision. You’re in danger.”

  “I’m in danger because I’m making a difference. I’m the key to finding a killer. Don’t you want to know anything about the case?”

  “I only want to know that you’re not involved in it anymore. Leave it to the police. Your place is with me and Sherman, somewhere safe where I don’t have to worry about you, wondering if you’re going to get hurt, or worse. You can’t live in fear of your life.”

  “I won’t quit.”

  “You’ll do as you’re told.”

  “I will do as I please. And I please to get the job finished, with or without your approval, or your help.”

  “Don’t you realize the danger, you stupid woman? You should be running for the hills. I think you should go and stay with your mam for a while.”

  “I’m not going to stay at my mam’s, and I’m not going to quit, so you’re going to have to deal with it. If you can’t, then maybe I need to find a man who can. One who supports me, and thinks that embarking on a new career is something to be encouraged, instead of someone who schemes with the enemy behind my back.”

  Solomon placed a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “From the look on Daisy’s face, I’m thinking you’re the one who should be in fear of his life. It appears you’ve misread your lady this time.”

  Paul glared at Solomon. “And I think you should shut the fuck up, and help fix this bloody mess.”

  Solomon frowned. “How? If she won’t quit for you, she sure as hell won’t do it for me.”

  “If Daisy won’t quit, then we need a plan to keep her safe. Is your place still secured like Fort Knox?”

  “Why?… No way. Absolutely no fecking way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Solomon glanced at the woman steaming with anger in the passenger seat of his SUV. How long before she stopped being pissed and started crying because Paul had upset her? He needed to invest in a dry-cleaning business if he was going to keep hanging around with Daisy. If she was really intent on being in his line of business and helping solve a murder, she was going to have to toughen up.

  “Are you okay?”

  She glanced at him and nodded.

  “Good.”

  “I know you don’t want me to stay with you. Just drop me at a hotel.”

  “Can’t do that, Princess. I fucked up, and now we all have to be punished.”

  “Is that how you see me, as some divine retribution being heaped upon you?”

  Solomon smiled. “No. Not really. Well, not all the time.”

  “Today?”

  Not the response he’d hoped for. “Today was a total mess. I’m sorry about you and Paul arguing. He only got angry because he loves you. Once he’s sure you’re out of danger, and has time to cool off, he’ll get over it and be begging for your forgiveness.”

  “I’m not sure I want to forgive him. He schemed against me—with you of all people.”

  “I know, Princess. If he’d sold his soul to the very devil it would have been more forgivable.”

  “You are the devil.”

  Solomon lifted one side of his mouth in a lopsided smile. The Daisy he knew and loved was still in there. “That I am, darlin’.”

  “I know you’re trying to cheer me up, but even the thought of you with horns, a forked tongue, and tail isn’t enough to make me forget what Paul did.”

  “He did what any man would do for the lady he loves. He worships the very ground you walk on. And look on the bright side. You finally get to find out where I live.”

  Daisy sighed. “As much as I want to see your lair, I would have preferred to have found it on my own. It’s a hollow victory when the enemy sweeps you into his castle with open arms.”

  “Well, I guess we’re both disappointed, then.”

  “Why?”

  “Once you know all my secrets, what fun can I have at your expense?”

  “I thought you flopped most of your secrets out in my kitchen. Not that you need have bothered if that’s all you have to hide.”

  Solomon raised an eyebrow. “I think your present state of upset is affecting your memory. Besides, it was cold in your kitchen.”

  “I don’t recall it being that cold, but if it makes you feel better I’ll believe you.”

  Solomon slowed as a pony crossed the road in front of them. Dropping his pants had been juvenile. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  “Not half as sorry as I am. I’m going to need eye bleach to cleanse my vision, as well as toothpaste.”

  He glanced at her, and she gave him a wan smile before turning her attention to the group of ponies they were passing by.

  “Do you have other secrets?”

  “Everyone has secrets, Princess.”

  * * * *

  Daisy fisted her hands in her lap and stared out the window. The forest was a strange place. The landscape was filled with acres of tall majestic trees reaching for the sky. The patches of ancient woodland were interspersed with areas where there was hardly a tree in sight; instead the ground was blanketed with heather, bracken, and gorse. Solomon slowed as the rich red of the sky heralded the arrival of dusk.

  The car vibrated as he traversed a cattle crossing designed to keep the wildlife from the enclave of houses ahead, and then they were swallowed up by a tunnel of oak and beech trees. Leaves danced in the headlights as the hint of autumn began to tug the trees’ summer coats free.

  She chewed her bottom lip, determined not to cry. If she went back and told Paul she’d give in to his demands, then she lost more than a job. She wanted to prove to Paul that for once in her life she could succeed at something. Solomon was right; the man loved her, perhaps too much. She had to do this, not only for herself but for their future. The last few days had allowed her to see that she could grow to love investigating things, and she had a feeling, given a chance, she could be good at it.

  “You doing okay over there?”

  She glanced at Solomon and attempted a smile. “Fine.”

  “Good. We’re almost home. Perhaps I should pull over and blindfold you so that you won’t ever be able to find your way back.”

  “Blindfold women a lot do you?”

  He chuckled. “Now that would be telling, Princess.”

  They turned off the main road and followed a narrow lane that snaked between the trees. The tall oaks thinned out before finally giving way to grass. A tiny hamlet of white-walled, thatch-roofed cottages stood in the clearing. If she didn’t know better she would swear she’d stepped out of real life and into the pages of a fairytale. She wondered which one was Solomon’s. As the SUV drove on it appeared none of them. Just beyond the last cottage they slowed down and took a hard right, pulling onto a hidden driveway. Gravel crunched beneath the tires. The headlights pierced the thickening shroud of night as they were once again swallowed up by the trees.

  A flash of metal caught her attention, and she sat forward, agog, as a steel gate slid open to allow entrance through a high stone wall that disappeared into the darkness in both directions. Paul hadn’t been wrong about Solomon’s home being like Fort Knox. How on earth did he get permission to build his very own gated community in the middle of a National Park?

  Solomon glanced at her. “It used to belong to a man of mystery.”

  “007?”

  “I’m not at liberty to divulge who it was that needed such security. However, fortunately for me, he found new accommodations.”

  “Why do you need so much security?”

  “Keeps me from having nightmares.”

  Daisy turned her head and star
ed at the dwelling Solomon called home. After such a grand and imposing entrance she’d imagined a castle, or a stately home, but instead she was looking at a two-story black-and-white Tudor house like dozens of others dotted around the countryside. He pulled the SUV to a stop outside the front door.

  “Is that it?”

  “Is that what?”

  “Is that the lair?”

  “Are you not impressed?”

  “Do you want me to be?”

  “I just don’t want you to be disappointed after you’ve been so desperate to see it.”

  “Are we still talking about your house?”

  Solomon chuckled. “It’s good to see you bouncing back. Now how about I show you to your room and introduce you to the delights of my spa bath. You can soak until you’re a prune while I make dinner.”

  “Paul made dinner.”

  “That he did, Princess.”

  Daisy swallowed the lump that filled her throat. She refused to start crying. She’d have a bath, and then she’d call Paul. They had a rule that they didn’t go to bed on an argument. Besides, she needed to know he’d arranged somewhere safe for Sherman to stay, and that he was all right.

  “What if the murderer goes to my house and I’m not there? They might kill Paul.”

  “Now he knows what he’s up against it’s not going to happen, Princess. Your old man is one of the best. I should know. I trained him. Now let’s get inside and get you comfortable.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Daisy climbed from the spa bath and patted her skin dry with a warm, fluffy white towel. For a man who used to enjoy living in trenches, and crawling through God knew what on his stomach, Solomon certainly embraced luxury. The tour so far had only included a double bedroom, decorated in warm creams and browns, that she could call her own while she stayed, and this salubrious bathroom. There were two doors into the room, one from the corridor and the other from Solomon’s bedroom. He’d warned her to stay out of his room. Would he believe her if she said she got confused? She tugged on the navy blue bathrobe he’d given her and wrapped it around herself, fastening the belt with a big bow. The sleeves dangled past her hands, and the bottom of the robe hit the ground. The fabric had the faint warm musky scent that was uniquely Solomon.

  She opened the door and glanced down the hall. No sign of Solomon. As much as she wanted to have a snoop, she also wanted to put some clothes on. No way did she plan to flash her body at Solomon. Even if he had no sense of propriety, she didn’t intend to sink to his level. She picked up her pile of dirty clothes and headed out the door that opened into the corridor. Her toes sank into the deep pile of the charcoal gray carpet as she made her way back to the room he’d given her.

  Solomon had delivered her suitcase and left it in the middle of the bed. She undid the zip and opened it up. After a quick rummage through what she’d packed she came to the conclusion she should have taken a little more care. Apparently angry Daisy had no sense of fashion or style. Nothing matched, and even worse, she’d forgotten underwear. The bra she could recycle until she got a chance to duck home and grab some more clothes, but she had no intention of doing that with her panties. Men might claim to be able to wear the same pair four days running by turning them inside out and wearing them back to front, but real women wore clean underwear at all times, ready for any situation that may arise. Not that any situation requiring her to be encased in fine silk and lace was likely to come up with her and Paul at loggerheads and in different houses. A few minutes later she was dressed in red track pants, a yellow T-shirt, and a purple sweater. Her feet were bare because four-inch heels really would do nothing to improve the hideous look she was going for.

  Her hair was damp so she pulled it back into a ponytail and glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Yep, revolting. She wiggled and tugged at the back of her sweatpants. They must have shrunk in the wash because they were no longer the comfortable lounging about wear they used to be. In fact they were tight in all the wrong places. Now she looked closer she realized they used to be Sherman’s before he grew out of them. No wonder they didn’t fit. However, they would have to do. They were the only pants she’d packed, and she wasn’t going to walk around in a skirt, sans underwear.

  Daisy exited her room and wandered the corridor with every intention of making her way downstairs. The house was bigger than it looked from the outside. From the number of doors she passed she guessed it had four bedrooms as well as the bathroom. One of the doors stood ajar, and she nudged it with her foot. It swung open to reveal a room decorated in pale pink. A mural straight from a fairytale covered one wall. The room was furnished with a white bed, matching desk, book shelf, chest of drawers, and full-length mirror. A doll’s house was on top of the drawers, and a pink toy box was pushed up against one wall.

  Daisy stepped inside the room and smiled. Solomon had a lot of explaining to do, although she had a fair idea who the set up was for. The man of mystery really wasn’t who she thought he was. Did Paul know? A book lay face down on the bedside cabinet. Daisy picked it up. The Cat in the Hat. Dr. Seuss. She used to read the same book to Sherman when he was little. She sat on the edge of the bed and flicked through the pages.

  *

  Solomon turned the heat off under the pan. The house was filled with the delicious spicy aroma of Paul’s beef curry. He used to make it when they were in the army. Solomon was transported back to poker night at Johnno Johnson’s house. His wife went to her sister’s once a month, and Johnno used to open his home up to his army buddies. Paul used to be head chef, Solomon brought the booze, and Johnno invariably lost his shirt. That was where Paul had first told him about Daisy.

  He’d just got back in on the late afternoon train from Manchester. For the first time ever Paul had been the one to lose. Every hand. Every game. Paul was completely away with the fairies. When he’d shown Solomon her photo he could see why. Daisy had many failings, but she’d been a pretty girl and had grown into a beautiful woman. Her looks were far from what some would call classical, but the light red hair, upturned nose, and green eyes that could flash with anger, along with an overly generous mouth, made her strangely hypnotic and uniquely Daisy.

  Solomon sighed. Paul was a lucky man, or he had been until this mess blew up. Solomon might have no idea about relationships, but he did know Paul would be hurting. There was still no sign of Daisy. She must have slipped in the bath and drowned. He wandered through to the living room. All evidence of his personal life was gone. The most damning photos were now stored in a drawer in his office, and the door to his inner sanctuary was firmly secured. There was nothing for Daisy to find. When she discovered the locked door it would drive her nuts. He grinned.

  Solomon took the stairs and stood on the landing, hands on hips. The door to the bathroom stood open, as did the door to the third bedroom. Apparently being miserable didn’t prevent Daisy sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong. He marched down the corridor and came to a halt in the doorway,

  “Daisy?”

  She looked up at him and smiled through her tears. “I used to read this to Sherman when he was little. It was his favorite.”

  Solomon crossed the room and sat next to her. “My ma used to read it to me. No childhood would be complete without Dr. Seuss. I remember her sitting on my bed, her eyes full of fun.”

  “Do you look like her? Your mam?”

  Solomon shook his head. “Not so much.”

  “Then you must look like your dad?”

  “Ma always thought so.”

  “But you don’t?”

  “We never met.”

  “Oh, Solomon. Sorry. That’s terrible.”

  “You can’t miss what you never had, Princess.”

  “Does Molly look like you?”

  “Molly?”

  “Lisa said it was your turn to have her this weekend. You can’t possibly be trying to pretend she doesn’t exist.”

  He gave in with a sigh and tugged his wallet from his back pock
et. Once he had it open he pulled out a photograph and handed it to Daisy.

  She peered at the color picture and then at him, before holding it up so she could see him and the picture at the same time.

  “She’s got brown eyes?”

  “That she has.”

  “You and Lisa have blue eyes?”

  “That we do.” Solomon was no scientist, but the fact the child had dark brown eyes and olive skin when both of her apparent parents were blue-eyed and pale wasn’t lost on him. His name was on Molly’s birth certificate. He might not be her biological father, but she was his in all the ways that mattered. Every child needed a parent to rely on, and Solomon had gladly taken on that role. The tiny scrap of innocence had stolen his heart the moment he laid eyes on her, and nothing would ever change that.

  “She’s pretty, but I can’t see any resemblance. How old is she?”

  “Three. Now are you ready to eat?”

  Daisy nodded and handed the picture back. “I would love to meet her. I’m sure Paul would too.” She sniffed, and Solomon passed her a tissue from the box next to the bed. “Assuming he ever wants to see either of us again.”

  “Of course he will. I bet you he’ll be over before the night’s done.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Want to put your money where your mouth is?”

  Daisy chewed her bottom lip, tears clung to her eyelashes. “No. My heart wouldn’t be in it.”

  Solomon wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “Come on, Princess, let’s go and eat. I might even regale you with tales from Paul’s younger days that you can use against him when he finally comes to his senses.”

  Daisy smiled. “You two used to be inseparable, didn’t you?”

  “That we did.”

  “Anyone would think you were brothers. Why do you get along so well together?”

  “You mean how could Paul put up with an arsehole like me? I used to ask myself the same question all the time. Now come on.”

 

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