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

by JL Simpson

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. As they made their way along the hallway toward the stairs Solomon’s phone started to ring. He tugged it from his jeans pocket and glanced at the caller ID.

  “It’s Dan Maloney.”

  “Is he calling about Paul? Did something happen to him?” Daisy’s fingers bit into his flesh as she gripped his upper arm.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Daisy had the meal dished up by the time Solomon got off the phone. The only thing she could tell from the one-sided conversation she could hear was that they were talking about Zut not Paul.

  She opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles of lager, hunted the drawers and found a bottle opener, and popped the tops before placing them on the table. Solomon’s kitchen was super organized. Apparently his tidy gene extended to every corner of his life. She’d had no trouble finding cutlery and plates. He even had proper linen napkins.

  With a final good-bye, Solomon hung up.

  “Well?”

  “Sit. Eat.”

  Daisy sat and lifted a fork, but she wasn’t really hungry.

  Solomon took the seat across the table, unfolded his napkin and laid it across his knee before taking a swallow of beer.

  “Well?”

  “Eat.”

  She scooped up a forkful of curry and shoveled it into her mouth. Now her mouth was full she couldn’t ask him again.

  “Dan looked into Zut.”

  She swallowed. “And?”

  Solomon took a mouthful of dinner and chewed slowly.

  “Do I have to waterboard you to make you tell me?”

  Solomon swallowed and then smiled. “I’ve been trained to resist torture.”

  “How about if I stick electrodes on your testicles?”

  “I might just enjoy that.”

  “Ew. You’re disgusting. I don’t even want to think about your man bits.”

  “You brought them up, Princess.”

  “I want to know what’s going on.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Zut? When? How?”

  “Suetonius Ackroyd-Smyth died three years ago in a surfing accident in Australia.”

  Daisy frowned. “But I met him.”

  “You met a man called Zut, and we assumed it was Suetonious.”

  “What about his band? And the website?”

  “Apparently the Zut we know is a musician, but other than that we know nothing.”

  “Are we sure our Zut isn’t pretending to be Suetonious? But then why would someone pretend to be a dead man?”

  “No idea, Princess.”

  “Is he really dead?”

  “The Aussies did a DNA test to confirm what they found was Suetonious.”

  “What they found?”

  “Eat up, Daisy.”

  She wasn’t really hungry, but apparently he was withholding information until she finished dinner. They ate in silence. As soon as she finished her last mouthful she dropped her fork on her plate.

  “All done. Now will you please tell me what’s going on?”

  Solomon was in no rush to finish dinner so Daisy sat and waited. Eventually he leaned back and patted his stomach. “Doughnut still makes a mean curry.”

  “Paul!” Her mind had been so full of speculation about Zut she’d forgotten she was going to call him. “I need my phone.”

  “You go and call him, and I’ll do the dishes, and then we can go back over what we know and plan where we go from here.”

  “You want me to help you plan?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t want to help?”

  “Yes. Yes. But I figured you knew what you were doing.”

  “I do, Princess, but I thought we were partners in this.”

  “Partners?” She smiled as she pushed to her feet and rounded the table. Finally someone thought she could actually make a difference. Although maybe Solomon was playing her. She decided to take him at his word and offered him a hand. “Partners.”

  He grabbed it and pulled her closer, wrapping her in a hug. She wasn’t sure how to react. Finally she gave in and hugged him back. He let her go but not before grabbing her face in his hands and planting a kiss on her forehead. “Now off you go and call Doughnut. I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.”

  She stared at him for a moment. Who was this man? Where had the surly git she knew gone? In the last twenty-four hours her world had been turned on its head, and Solomon’s change of character was only the half of it. Had she gone to bed last night and woken in an alternate universe?

  *

  Solomon watched her stroll from the room. What the feck was wrong with him? Not only had he told more than he intended about Molly, he’d hugged Daisy. She’d looked so pathetically happy when he said they were partners, and her horrendous outfit had added a sense of pathos to the disastrous evening. Telling Daisy she was on ice until the investigation was over would be like kicking a puppy. Hopefully Paul had come to his senses, and Solomon could get back to doing what he did best with Daisy, pissing her off. This change in their relationship was disturbing.

  He got to his feet and loaded the dishwasher. Once the kitchen had been restored to order he made his way to the living room. No sign of Daisy, so he risked unlocking his office. He slung his laptop bag over his shoulder before retrieving a whiteboard that was leaning against the wall and some markers. With his hands full he’d have to come back for the whiteboard stand.

  He turned and groaned. “Daisy.”

  “Is this the inner sanctum, like the bat cave?”

  “It’s an office. Make yourself useful and grab the stand.”

  She crossed the room and lifted a photo off the bookshelf. “I remember this picture.”

  “Me too. Stand, Princess.”

  “Why do you have a picture of you and Paul on your bookshelf?”

  “He’s my best mate.” That picture brought back happy memories. Up until then Paul had been one of a group of friends he made during basic training, but that trip had cemented their relationship. They’d been inseparable. He’d always intended to be honest with Paul, but once he really got to know him he couldn’t destroy the man’s life. Instead, he’d reversed course and set out on the path that had led them to where they now found themselves.

  She put the photo of him and Paul in Germany back on the shelf, and lifted the next one.

  “I forgot about this picture. You look so cute cuddling Sherman.”

  “I don’t look cute. I never look cute.”

  Daisy smiled. “You do. That was one hell of a day.”

  He remembered it well. Daisy had been wiped out from the labor, but the expression on her face when he’d accepted her offer to hold Sherman had all but brought him undone. He’d been included in the biggest events in Paul’s life. Best man at the wedding, first to hold Sherman after his parents, and then godfather at his christening. He missed being part of Paul’s family. “It’s not every day you give birth. Now can we?”

  She put the picture back and lifted another.

  “Your mam?”

  “Yes. Daisy, please.”

  “You have her coloring. What’s her name?”

  “Etain.”

  “It suits her. She’s pretty.”

  “Was pretty.” Why the feck had he said that?

  “Was?”

  “Yes, was. Now can we get on?”

  “She’s dead? Do you have any other family?”

  He hesitated. “Yes, she’s dead, and no, I don’t have any family. Now can we?”

  “What about your dad? He might still be alive. You could look him up. Maybe you’ve got brothers and sisters that you don’t know about.”

  “The stand, Daisy.”

  She put the photo back and collected the stand. He waited until she disappeared through to the living room and then he followed. With his hands full he couldn’t lock the door. As long as she stayed with him she couldn’t be snooping, and once she went to bed he’d lock it up.

 
; Chapter Twenty-Six

  Daisy tried to hide a yawn behind her hand. Solomon was in full swing. The whiteboard was covered with names, but this time he’d rearranged them in groups based on connections. He had one list of people who were related through the Somerset Club. Another put together because of their connection to the music industry. A third group for Langdon College. And then a homeless group. Finally, people related to Toby. He’d drawn circles around each list so the board looked like the Venn diagrams Daisy had done at school.

  He tossed the marker he was using on the coffee table and collapsed onto the sofa next to her. “So tell me, Princess, where do you want to focus?”

  “Me?”

  “Aye. What do you see in that picture? What do you think you did to upset someone?”

  “Cherry says we should talk to homeless people.”

  “Homeless people? And who the feck is Cherry?”

  “She’s my best friend. She says it’s thanks to me she was able to build the conservatory on the back of her house. I’ve been good for her career.”

  “As?”

  Daisy shrugged. “A recruitment agent.”

  Solomon smiled. “I bet you have, Princess. How many times has she placed you? Isn’t there a law against selling a product when you know it’s faulty?”

  Daisy glared at him. “Do you want to hear my idea or not?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay.” Daisy got to her feet and approached the board. “All of the dead people were homeless. When Belinda last saw Toby he was living in a squat in London. And as you’ve shown, Phat Kitty was taking part in a charity event for the homeless. Now, Cherry tells me that in an episode of Sherlock he used the homeless people in London to be his spies.”

  “Sherlock?”

  “The TV show.”

  “You want to act out a TV show? Is that why you’re dressed like a bag lady, so you’ll blend in?”

  She glared at him. “I packed in a hurry. I think the pants used to be Sherman’s, and the jumper was a gift from my grandmother.”

  Solomon chuckled.

  She decided to ignore him. “It’s not a totally stupid idea, is it, talking to homeless people?”

  Now she’d said the words out loud she did wonder if it was a bit mental. She was running on empty. Her body ached with fatigue. She’d only met Cherry that morning, but it seemed like days ago now. She wanted to climb into bed and cuddle Paul, except he was back home. Their conversation had been short and to the point.

  “What are you thinking on, Princess?”

  “Paul.”

  “Is he still acting the maggot?”

  “Sherman’s staying at the Maloney’s tonight. Paul’s all alone. We’ve never gone to bed on an argument.”

  “Are you still arguing?”

  “He says he’ll get over it, but he’s still grumpy that I won’t stay out of the case and get a safer job.”

  “Sorry, darlin’. Do you want me to talk to him again?”

  “No. He has a horrible stubborn streak. The more you push him, the more he digs his heels in. He’s probably just waiting for me to fall flat on my face and prove him right.”

  “Did he ever tell you how he ended up taking the bullet in the arse for me?”

  Daisy shook her head.

  “Back in the day I fancied myself a ladies’ man.”

  “Not like now, then?”

  “Do you want to hear this?”

  “Sorry.” She crossed to the sofa and sat down.

  “Cyprus was a veritable smorgasbord for the single soldier. The local lassies were charmed by my accent and my baby blues.”

  He fluttered his eyelashes, and she smiled. They were hypnotically pretty when he wasn’t giving the stink eye. She could imagine some girls might find him attractive.

  He smiled back. “I took my pleasure where I could. Paul warned me to be careful, but a lothario listens to no one. Every weekend I would pick up a new lady, and by Monday I’d forgotten her name. Until I met Anna. She worked at a bar down by the beach in Ayia Napa and refused to do anything more than dance with me, the same as she did with any other bloke who asked. I’m not a man to refuse a challenge, and Anna was a nut I intended to crack. So, I spent three weekends on a charm offensive. I used my whole arsenal. Gifts, compliments, hours spent talking, dancing, wining, and dining.”

  “And she gave in to you?”

  “That she did, Princess.”

  “And?”

  “I persuaded her to spend the night with me in a hotel. When she went home she told her father she was in love. The devout man was horrified that his daughter had been defiled, and even worse, by a British soldier. He followed Anna to the bar where I’d arranged to meet her the next Saturday. Paul was with me. Before Anna could even greet me her dad burst in wielding a rifle. Anna screamed for him to leave me alone. Paul knew about Anna and surmised that the man with the gun wanted to blow my head off—the fact he was yelling, “I’ll kill the bastard!” in Greek might have given him a bit of a clue.

  “Anyway, Paul told me to slip out the back while he talked the man down. He’d done a week long course on hostage negotiating, and he thought he had it all under control. The man demanded to know if Paul was me. Paul flashed his wedding ring at him, telling the man he was married, without first mentioning he wasn’t me. Anna’s dad lifted the gun, apparently even more outraged that the man who had defiled his daughter appeared to be in no position to marry her. When it became apparent the situation was out of control Paul turned to follow me out the back. The man pulled the trigger and shot him in the arse, and probably would have kept shooting if the cops hadn’t arrived.”

  Daisy frowned. “Poor Paul. He should have let the mad bastard shoot you. I know I would have.”

  Solomon chuckled. “You’ll not be watching my back if it ever comes to a gunfight, then?”

  “Nope. You had better make other plans. Now, as much as I love to hear about your romantic conquests, was there a point to the story?”

  “Yes, Paul warned me about the likely consequences of my actions, but when those gun-wielding consequences showed up he didn’t stand back and say I told you so. Instead, he tried to save my sorry arse. Your man is loyal and, even when he thinks he’s right and you’re wrong, he’ll back you one hundred percent. He’s scared for you, Princess, but he still loves you.”

  “And you?”

  “Does he love me? I thought we sorted that out earlier. The bare arse in the kitchen was a misunderstanding, not an invitation to kinky sex on your dining table.”

  “No, not does he love you.”

  “Do I love you?” Solomon pressed a hand to his chest. “Daisy, this is so sudden.” He chuckled.

  Daisy punched him in the arm. “Moron. What about you and Anna?”

  “Anna is better off without me, and I probably would have got bored with her in time.”

  “That’s not a very romantic ending.”

  “I don’t do romance. Now you look done in. How about you head to bed, and we’ll pick this up tomorrow?”

  Daisy nodded. Every bone in her body ached, and sleep would be a blessed relief. She pushed to her feet.

  “Goodnight.”

  “Night, Daisy.”

  She padded across the room and up the stairs.

  *

  Solomon pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed the speed dial for Paul.

  “Solomon.”

  “How do you fancy a booty call?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. Your place or mine?”

  Solomon chuckled. “Not me, you maggot. Your lady needs you.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “She’d be doing a lot better if you’d come over and show her some affection.”

  “You want me to come to your house and have sex with my wife?”

  “That was the idea. Have sex with the wife you don’t have sex with.”

  “She’ll never go for it with you in the house. She gets stage fright.”

  “
I’ve heard you two banging before. Remember the trip we all took to Ibiza?”

  “You said you went out for the night.”

  “I did, to the balcony with a bottle of whiskey. Your wife has a great set of lungs.”

  Paul sighed. “She does.”

  “Come over. She needs to know you love her.”

  “And you?”

  “I love you both. Now come over.”

  Paul chuckled. “Damn, where’s a tape recorder when you need one? Stick-up-his-arse Solomon finally tells someone he loves them. Did the earth fall out of orbit around the sun? Is hell about to freeze over?”

  “The appropriate response when someone tells you they love you is to tell them you love them too. It’s no wonder your lady’s so blue.”

  “I wish you’d convinced her to quit.”

  “What’s done is done. You’re going to have to accept it. Leave her to see it through. Once she’s experienced the seedy side of life, and the horrors that entails, she might decide to quit. Better you’re there when she does. Either way, do you really want to risk losing her?”

  “When did you take a marriage guidance counseling course?”

  “Between the courses on how to tell your mate he’s being a selfish maggot and the one about how to beat your mate with a stick until he comes to his senses. She called you to make amends, and yet here she is, alone and miserable with only me for company. Ball’s in your court.”

  All right. I’ll come over.”

  “Good. Oh and bring her some clothes. I’ve no idea what was going on in her head when she packed, but it can’t have been good. The poor woman is reduced to wearing track pants at least a size too small and a hideous purple sweater. And my guess is she forgot underwear.”

  “And you know that how?”

  “Just get over here.”

  Solomon hung up and dropped the phone on the coffee table.

  He crossed the room and poured himself a glass of whiskey before standing in front of the whiteboard. What was the key, and why had Dan warned him to stay away from Zut? Someone on the board knew something. An idea hovered at the edge of his mind. Once Paul arrived he’d go for a run. Sometimes things made more sense when you stopped staring at them.