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

by JL Simpson

  He climbed in beside her and turned the key in the ignition.

  “Shouldn’t we stay and talk to the police?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?” She frowned.

  “We were the only ones up there. If word gets out the police have two witnesses, then whoever was trying to kill us will know we survived.”

  “You think they don’t know that already?”

  He pulled the SUV into the traffic as a police car passed in the other direction, racing to the scene. “I doubt it. Remote detonation.”

  “How did they know we were even there?”

  “No idea, Princess. They could have hacked into the car park’s CCTV, in which case they might have seen us run for the stairwell but lost us because once you exit the floor there are no cameras. Unless they stopped watching once they hit the button and assumed they killed us. Alternatively, they could have been parked close by and seen us enter the stairwell and estimated how long it would take us to reach the Kombi van.”

  “Watching us? Where are they?”

  “When they detonated the device? Not too far away. Now? Probably long gone.”

  She swiveled in her seat. “Are we being followed?”

  “No.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Solomon glanced at her. “Home to clean up, and then we have appointments to get to.”

  “You don’t want to chase down these bastards?”

  “If they felt the need to try and blow us up my guess is we’re getting close.”

  “To what?”

  “Buggered if I know, Princess.”

  “And the police?”

  “Have told us to stay away from Zut, whoever he really is. I’m not sure they’d believe we just happened to be there when a car exploded.”

  “We didn’t just happen to be there. You bugged the car.”

  “Best the cops don’t know about that.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s not exactly legal.” He patted his pockets. “Bollocks. I’ve lost my fecking phone.”

  “You had it in your hand before you threw me to the floor.”

  “Shite.”

  “We should go back.”

  “Not going to happen, Princess. I’ll retrieve it later.”

  “What if the cops find it?”

  “Then we’re buggered.”

  “You’re buggered. I was shopping when it all went down.”

  He glanced at her. “You’d desert me in my hour of need?”

  “It’s not legal to carry a handgun is it?”

  Solomon shrugged.

  “Then yep, I’m deserting you. I’m too pretty for prison.”

  “And you think I’m not?”

  She glanced at him. The convicts would love him, but if they so much as looked at him funny she had no doubt they’d be sorry.

  “So much for the kisses, Princess. I’m deeply wounded. I thought we were a team, in this together until the bitter end.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Solomon sat at his desk trolling through the news on the Internet to see what the cops had to say about the exploding Kombi van. So far they were calling it a mechanical failure, but the area was on lockdown. Best-case scenario, they’d discover the bomb and go after the morons who had tried to kill them. Worst-case scenario, they’d find his fecking phone, trace his military background, check his place of birth, and decide he had something to do with it. The troubles in Northern Ireland might be over, but that didn’t mean his countrymen weren’t still subject to suspicion.

  He glanced at the time. If Daisy didn’t hurry up they’d never make it to Salisbury for their appointment. He’d had first shower, tended his wounds, and changed his clothes. The jacket and jeans were a write-off. Levis were ten a penny, but the black jacket had been a real favorite. He’d shoot the bastard who’d tried to blow them up just for destroying an essential piece of his wardrobe.

  He sat up straight as a headline caught his eye. “Bollocks!”

  “What?”

  Daisy sauntered into the room. She’d chosen skinny jeans, black knee-high spike-heel boots, and a long-sleeved cream button-up shirt. She tossed the distressed black leather jacket she was carrying on his desk as she walked around to join him. Other than the boots, the outfit was the closest thing to a nun’s habit he’d seen her wear.

  “The estate of Lord Mardon reckons they’ve found Tobias and are withdrawing the reward.”

  She leaned over his shoulder. The soft flowery scent she favored filled his nostrils, and her curly strawberry blonde hair brushed his face as she read the report on his computer screen. “Do you believe it?”

  “That they’ve found Tobias?”

  She turned and leaned her butt against his desk. “Seems awfully convenient. And if they have found him, then what is all this about. Why is someone trying to scare me off? This started before we did anything on your case.”

  “Good point, Princess.”

  “If it isn’t Toby, then surely the real Toby will see it and come forward? Is that their game, to try and flush him out?”

  “Perhaps, but I think it’s safe to assume, at this point, that he doesn’t want to be found.”

  “So why pretend you have him, then?”

  Solomon shrugged. “Maybe to get people to stop hunting for him. If we’re to assume the defacing of your car and the bomb were designed to scare you off, then they’ll also want to discourage others. Without a reward, what’s the point of looking? Whoever they’re parading as Lord Tobias is irrelevant.”

  “A fake Toby will never pass muster if they want to get the inheritance.”

  “I’m starting to think the inheritance is no longer important, Princess. If they’re wanting to stop people looking, a fake heir does the job. Unless you know Tobias, that picture could be of anyone.”

  “We need to speak to Belinda.”

  “Why?”

  “She does know him.”

  Solomon glanced at his watch. “Right you are. If we’re quick we can duck into her shop and still be in Salisbury for our first appointment at midday.”

  “And then lunch. I know a lovely café near the cathedral. Now I’m not going to get paid for finding Toby, lunch will have to be on you.”

  Solomon lifted a corner of his mouth. “Of course it will, darlin’.”

  * * * *

  Daisy’s conversation with Belinda had been most enlightening. Solomon had shown her the photo of the supposed Toby with his brother Elliott taken outside the family pile. Belinda had taken one look and declared it wasn’t the wayward Lord Toby. Apparently it was a fair match but not him. The real Toby had a narrower frame and a slightly different-shaped nose. Most damning of all were the eyes. Apparently the fake Lord’s were the wrong shape. He was also missing a crescent-shaped scar on his left cheek that he got from playing rugby.

  They drove to Salisbury in silence as Daisy turned the problem over in her head. There had to be a logical reason for Elliott to parade the man around as his brother. They’d read the will. She could see no upside for Elliott.

  Solomon nudged her elbow and she glanced at him. “What?”

  “What are you thinking on?”

  “Nothing makes any sense.”

  “It will once we have all the pieces.”

  “What are we missing?”

  Solomon shrugged. “No idea, Princess.”

  “Why did Maureen want us to find Zut?”

  “Maybe she didn’t. We only have her word that he’s missing.”

  “She wanted to blow us up?” Daisy stared at him. “Why?”

  “While you were otherwise engaged last night I did some research into Jason Tyler.”

  “And?”

  “And he has a history of fraud. About ten years ago he set up a competition to find England’s next Spice Girls. Apparently thousands of hopefuls paid to enter, but the band never happened. Since getting out of jail he’s been managing Maureen and a couple of other small names. Despite her worldwide
success I’ve found nothing held in her name. The house in Sandbanks is registered as his. On the surface he appears to be everything he seems. However I don’t trust him.”

  “Why not?”

  Solomon shrugged. “Gut feel. The man is not what he claims to be, even if he is putting on a good show.”

  “Do you think he has plans to fleece Maureen? Maybe he intends to take her inheritance. If she was expecting his kid, then he could convince her to marry him and everything she has could be his. Do you think she’s in danger, or part of the plan to get us?”

  “No idea, Princess.”

  “What do we do now, then?”

  He eased the car into the curb. “Now we have an appointment with Liam Sparks, where I’ll be asking the questions.”

  “And what do I do? Are we going to do good cop, bad cop? I always wanted to do that.”

  “You’re going to be your usual delightful self. That should put him off guard enough.”

  “Arsehole.”

  Arsehole with great taste, though. Solomon had ditched the SUV, declaring it was probably known by whoever was after them. However their current vehicle was unlikely to go unnoticed. She ran her hand over the dashboard. When she’d imagined he owned a sports car she’d been kidding, but apparently he did. A black Aston Martin DB9. A dream car.

  “You do know you’re a cliché, don’t you?”

  “How’s that?”

  “A P.I. with a sports car. It’s very Magnum. Next you’ll be moving to Hawaii.”

  “How do you know I’m not just having a midlife crisis?”

  She looked at him. He might not be too many years from forty but, based on the way Belinda had been drooling, the man had nothing to have a crisis about. “Maybe you are, but I doubt it. I’m thinking I should reconsider the heir hunting and stick with being a P.I. if it means I get to buy a car like this.”

  “Being a P.I. doesn’t pay that much, Princess.”

  “So how come you own an Aston Martin?”

  “Didn’t earn the money from being a private investigator.”

  Daisy frowned. “How then?”

  He glanced at his watch. “We’re going to be late.”

  She opened the door and turned in her seat, accepting Solomon’s hand as she climbed from the car, grateful she’d opted to wear pants. Getting in and out of a sports car without flashing your undies when you wore anything other than pants would take practice. Thanks to the rip in the back of her skirt earlier, a rip Solomon had failed to mention, he’d seen more than enough of her and her lingerie for one day.

  Once she was safely on her feet he let her hand go, slammed the passenger side door, and locked the car. “Ready?”

  She tossed her hair over her shoulders and tugged her jacket straight. “Let’s go.”

  He led the way toward the unassuming gray stone building, opened the door to the office and let her step inside before following. The interior was nothing like the offices of Lewis, Leviston and Smythe. They majored on bland; this place was a riot of color. The interior decorator must have been dropping acid. Orange and yellow walls were teamed with blue doors. A polished steel-and-glass reception desk was dwarfed by the massive silver SPARKS sign hanging on the back wall.

  The dark-haired receptionist glanced up from her keyboard and smiled. A silver paper star was stuck on her left cheek. Daisy wondered if it was part of her uniform. The yellow shirt with the silver Sparks logo suited her. Not everyone could wear yellow. Some people looked like they had liver failure in yellow. A sign said her name was Melanie Mitchell.

  Solomon crossed to the desk. “We’ve an appointment with Mr. Sparks.”

  “Which one?”

  “Liam.”

  “And you are?”

  “Solomon, and this is my associate, Ms. Dunlop.”

  “He’s in a partner’s meeting. I’ll just go and let him know you’re here.”

  Solomon reached across the desk and placed his hand on her arm. “Just a moment, Melanie.”

  She frowned as he lifted his hand and tugged the star from her face. He dropped it on the desk, and her face flushed with embarrassment. “Oh God, Craig must have stuck it on me when I dropped him off at the childcare center.”

  Solomon smiled. “Maybe he wanted to let you know you’re doing a grand job of being his mummy and thought you deserved a star.” He nodded toward a picture sitting next to her keyboard. “Is that the little man?”

  She lifted the photograph and handed it to him. “It is.”

  Daisy sighed. He was off again with the charm. Solomon turned and showed her the picture. “Cute, is he not?”

  “Adorable. I remember when Sherman had blond ringlets.”

  Solomon smiled. “Me too. Not that he’d thank you for them now.”

  “Is Sherman your son?”

  Solomon handed the photo back. “He’s Ms. Dunlop’s. I’ve not been blessed with a son.”

  Melanie smiled. “I’m sure if you were he’d be adorable. I’d better let Liam know you’re here. Please, take a seat.”

  The receptionist disappeared through a door, and Daisy shook her head.

  Solomon frowned. “What?”

  “Do you have to try and charm the pants off every one of the opposite sex you meet?”

  Solomon laughed. “Pot, kettle.”

  He had a point, but she’d stopped flirting with men—well, with him anyway.

  A tall blond man stepped into the reception area followed by Melanie. He crossed the room and offered Solomon his hand. “Liam Sparks.”

  As he shook Solomon’s hand he turned his baby blues on Daisy, sweeping his gaze from her high heels to her head and back to her eyes. “And this is?”

  Daisy smiled and offered a hand. “Daisy Dunlop, Mr. Sparks.”

  He dropped Solomon’s hand and took hers. “Liam, please.” Mr. Sparks smiled at Daisy and held the door open. “Shall we?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Solomon, and he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  Chapter Thirty

  Solomon took a seat next to Daisy. Apparently Liam Sparks preferred to sit on the edge of his desk in front of Daisy rather than occupy his perfectly good high-back leather chair. Solomon concentrated on not grinding his teeth. Daisy was right about him charming women to get what he wanted, whether that was information or a workout in bed. If Liam was so enamored with Daisy’s pretty strawberry blonde hair and pouty lips, then so be it. While he was busy lusting he might let his guard down and actually tell them something useful.

  Liam smiled. “So what can I help you with?”

  Solomon tugged a notebook and pen from his pocket. “We’ve been hired by Standard Life Insurance to look into the claim relating to the death of your client Stuart Bligh.”

  “Stuart?” Liam got to his feet, wandered behind his desk, and took his seat. He frowned and then smiled. “How rude of me. Would you like a coffee?” Before either of them could answer he hit the intercom button on his phone. “Mel, three coffees, please, darling.”

  Solomon pinned the man with a stare. “Mr. Sparks? We note that the insurance claim is paid to his estate. I was hoping you could tell us what happens to the money after that.”

  The man tapped his fingers on his desk. “I’d love to but client confidentiality and all that.”

  Daisy grabbed Solomon’s arm and then leaned forward. “Liam, we’re not here to stir up trouble, and no one is under suspicion. This is routine for such a large policy. Until the insurance company is happy the claim is valid they won’t pay. Wouldn’t it be best for the beneficiaries if we could sort it out and put the whole thing to bed?” She reached over and put her hand over his. “I know we’re putting you in a difficult position, but if you could help we’d be very grateful.”

  The door opened, and Liam tugged his hand free. Solomon glanced at Melanie who stood in the doorway. “You didn’t say how you wanted your coffee so I made a pot.”

  She crossed the room and placed the tray with three cups, a pot of coffe
e, jug of milk and bowl of sugar on the desk. Liam glanced up at her, and she smiled. Solomon noted their matching wedding rings and wondered if Daisy would pick up on their relationship. Funny, she didn’t call herself Melanie Sparks. Although lots of women preferred to keep their own names, and why not? Changing your surname was a lot of hassle.

  Melanie left them to it, and Daisy got busy playing mother. She didn’t bother to ask Solomon how he wanted his coffee, you could hardly get black wrong, and she left Liam to add his own milk and sugar.

  Solomon watched as Daisy took a sip from her cup before placing it on the edge of the desk. She smiled at Liam. “Cute kid.”

  Liam frowned and stopped stirring his coffee. “What?”

  “When we came in I couldn’t help but notice the photograph of your son on Melanie’s desk. He looks a lot like you. Is he your first? I’ve only got the one son. I know if anything happened to him it would kill me.”

  Liam glanced at Solomon and then back at Daisy. “Is that a threat?”

  Daisy laughed. “God, no. Why would I threaten you? And what could I possibly do? I can’t even run in these boots, never mind catch someone and do them harm. I was just thinking out loud. That poor man’s relatives must be desperate to put the whole horrible accident behind them. I mean having to deal with the fact someone you love burnt to death would be bad enough, without all the legal headaches and delays.”

  “Stuart didn’t have any relatives. Well, that’s not strictly true. He had a son, but he went missing years ago.”

  Solomon glanced at Daisy. She met his gaze, and he gave her a slight nod. He might have been planning to interrogate the guy, but it seemed Daisy’s feminine charm was working for them.

  *

  Daisy held back a smile of triumph. She’d finally done something right and got the Irish git’s approval. Her gut twisted. Now she needed to prove to him that his faith wasn’t misplaced.

  “Poor man. I know if my Sherman went missing I’d never stop looking. Did he try to find him?”