by JL Simpson
“I’d better get moving.”
“And if you need any help with the puppy—”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
Daisy cradled the bundle under her jacket, and made her way toward the SUV. She needed to follow up on the McGuires, and find out what Poppy’s dad was involved in. It might not be related to Johnny going missing, but it was the best clue she had so far. However, before she did anything else, she needed to convince Solomon that Rosebud was just what Molly needed. She could see him sitting in the passenger's seat, head back, eyes closed. As she got closer, she heard the duf duf of rock music.
*
Solomon feigned disinterest, as Daisy opened the passenger side door and switched off the radio.
“Solomon, wake up.”
“I'm not sleeping. I'm having a power nap.”
“With muddy boots?”
“I'm not sure the state of a man's footwear has any direct relationship on his ability to recharge.”
“They weren't muddy when we drove here.”
“Were they not?”
“No. You can tell me what you were doing snooping around, once we get on the road. You can drive.”
He sat up, and scratched his chin. A sour odor drifted on the breeze. “What's that smell?”
“What smell?”
“Jaysus, Daisy, you've grown a third tit, and it's wriggling.”
“Very funny. Get out.”
She stepped back and he climbed from the vehicle. “Take the puppy back.”
“What puppy?”
“Daisy!” He grabbed for the lump under her jacket, but she twisted out of his grip.
“Why are you trying to grab my boobs?”
Solomon crowded Daisy back against the side of the SUV, caging her in with his arms. “I’ve no interest in your boobs. Now are you going to take the puppy back, or am I doing it for you?”
“What puppy?” Her jacket moved, and the lump she was cradling whimpered.
“The one you’re doing a terrible job of hiding. The one that stinks of piss.”
“Okay, okay. So I may have picked out a puppy, but he’s not for you.”
Solomon stepped back and folded his arms, making sure his CIA glare was in place. “I'd no idea Paul was fond of dogs.”
“Paul doesn't want a dog.”
“Who's it for, then?”
Daisy tugged a tiny black furball from under her jacket, and kissed the top of its head.
Solomon had seen bigger rats. He stared at the creature. “What the hell is that?”
Daisy smiled. “Meet Rosebud. He's a teacup toy poodle.”
“Rosebud. Like the princess Molly’s always talking about?”
Daisy cooed over the thing. “Isn’t he cute? Look at the little puppy. He’s such a good boy. Such a cute baby.”
Solomon refused to get involved in her puppy love-in. She’d gone behind his back, and he wasn’t going to change his mind about owning a bleedin’ dog. His house was an animal free zone. He’d never own a pet, not even if it came with a big fat cheque and a naked woman. “Take it back right now. I mean it, Daisy.”
“I can’t. I promised Molly a puppy. Do you want to make her cry, when you tell her she can’t have one?”
Solomon put his hands on his head, in an effort to stop himself from reaching out and throttling her. “I know what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?”
“Emotional blackmail.”
She peered up at him and wrinkled her brow. “Is it working?”
It was madness to even think about owning a dog. Especially one that had no practical purpose. If she’d bought a Rottweiler or a Doberman, he could train them to guard Molly, but the rat she’d chosen was useless. “I’ve no room in my life for a pet, and you’d no business telling Molly she could have a puppy.”
Daisy lifted the dog, and rubbed his nose against hers. “He only needs a tiny bit of room. How much work can he be?”
“Too much.”
She batted her eyelids and stuck her bottom lip out, cooing at him in a baby voice. “Are we going to keep him? Or are we going to make Molly cry?”
Solomon threw his hands in the air. “Only until I can convince Molly she doesn’t want him.”
Daisy smiled, and put Rosebud right in Solomon’s face. The dog licked his nose, and then peed itself. Solomon stepped back and snarled, as he wiped the dog slobber off his face and glared at his wet boot. Now they both stunk of dog piss.
Daisy climbed into the passenger seat. “We should go before Mr. Randall wonders why we’re still here.”
Solomon stomped around to the driver’s side. He started the engine, put the SUV in gear, and let off the brake, before accelerating along the driveway toward the road.
He glanced at Daisy, and she smiled and kissed the dog’s nose. “You'll soon get to love him, and never want to give him up. How could you hate this little face? He'll be good company for Molly. Give her someone to confide in.”
“She has me and Mavis.”
“You're her big scary dad, and Mavis is temporary. Isn't she?”
Solomon shrugged.
“I thought this lust thing you had going on was a ruse, so you could get the inside track on the investigation. What about Belinda?”
“My life is a mess. Belinda's better off without me. You said so yourself.”
Daisy snorted with disgust. “Like you ever listen to me.”
“I'll not be told who I should date.”
“You're not dating anyone. You're attempting to flirt them into bed. Talk about cheap.”
“I'm not the one who suggested I get it on with Belinda.”
“I figured you'd at least take her to dinner and get to know her a little first.”
“Why bother? I was looking for a fling, and she wanted me. I thought it would be a good way to end the dry spell I’ve been going through.”
“She's not a change of weather.”
“She's also not been seduced.” Solomon tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I still think we should take the dog back.”
“Way to change the subject. I can't take Rosebud back. We discussed this already. Besides, he's part of my plan to win Mr. Randall's trust.”
“I don't think you should get to close to the man.”
“Why not? He's a valuable source of information.”
“Such as?”
“He knows people who have a grudge against Candy. Surely one of them must have her dog.”
“Is he one of them?”
“He isn't her number one fan. Why?”
“I went snooping.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “I knew that already.”
“But did you know he has a large area of disturbed ground behind his shed? No one's planting a garden in a northerly facing position hidden from sight.”
Daisy grabbed Solomon’s arm. “Oh, my God. He could have murdered his wife, and buried her.”
The car swerved into the gutter, and Solomon slammed on the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a shuddering halt. He stared at Daisy. “I thought we were looking for a missing dog.”
“We aren't. I am. But Randall's wife has gone missing too.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Daisy gave her appearance in the full length mirror one last look, and decided she would do. The blue dress and smoky makeup gave her eye color an extra boost. She was showing a bit of leg, but not so much she would flash her wares when she got in and out of the car. The neckline showed off her cleavage, and the wire she'd been bullied into wearing was taped between her breasts, secure in a place Nobby was never going to see, or feel. Trying to turn it on once they reached the restaurant would be interesting, but Solomon had insisted she stay off air until he told her otherwise.
The front door bell rang.
Paul yelled. “I've got it.”
Her gut clenched. Paul was excited that she was going out to dinner at a posh restaurant. She’d been vague about what the deal was. If he knew she w
as dining with a police suspect and wearing a wire, he would go mental. He would also be less enthusiastic about opening the front door.
She shoved her feet in her matching blue four-inch heels, plumped up her strawberry blonde curls, and blew a kiss at her reflection, before sauntering her way down the stairs.
Paul and Solomon stood shoulder to shoulder in the front hall, and watched her descend one slow step at a time. Paul let out a long slow whistle, and Solomon gave her a salacious wink. The sexy come-on was at odds with the sight of Molly clinging to Solomon's leg.
He gently unwrapped Molly’s arms, dropped a kiss on her cheek, and handed her to Paul. “Are you sure you don't mind babysitting?”
“Not at all, but next time I want to be the one going on a date.”
Solomon wrapped an arm around Paul’s shoulder, and pulled him in for a hug. “I didn't know you cared. If you can get Daisy to agree to babysit Molly, I'd love to take you out.”
Paul shoved an elbow into Solomon’s stomach, and wiggled free. “I don't want to date you, you moron. You can babysit, and I'll date Daisy.”
Daisy took the little girl from Paul, and kissed her pudgy cheek. “Uncle Paul's silly, isn't he? Sherman doesn't need a babysitter.”
Molly giggled, and pressed her hands to her mouth.
“Wanna bet? I came home to discover him in his room.”
Daisy shrugged. “He's always in his room.”
“With Fiona Campion, and she didn't have her shirt on.”
Daisy’s mouth fell open. She glanced down the hall toward the living room, where Sherman was watching TV, and then back at Paul. “He's only fifteen.”
Solomon chuckled. “A chip off the old block.” Paul and Solomon bumped fists.
Daisy glared at them both. “This is not something to be proud of. He needs a good talking to. You'd better tell him the facts of life. And you had better take him to buy some condoms and show him how to use them, in case he doesn’t pay attention to the bit about leaving girls alone.”
Paul winced, glanced at Solomon, and then looked back at Daisy. “Isn't that something a Godfather should do?”
“You want him to learn about sex from Solomon?”
Solomon raised an eyebrow. “Daisy, I think your boy knows about sex already, but I'm happy to impart my vast knowledge to him.”
“He doesn't need your sordid knowledge, and Paul will take care of it.” She put her hand on her hip and focused on Paul. “Won't you?”
Paul sighed. “I guess.”
Daisy gave Molly another kiss, and handed her back to Paul.
“Where are you going for dinner?”
Solomon checked his watch. “Amalfis, and we’re running late.”
“It’s not Daisy’s fault. She dressed in double quick time, and still looks like my perfect wet dream.”
Solomon rolled his eyes. “Do you two need a moment?”
Paul shook his head. “No, it's all good. I can wait until she gets home for my moment. So why are you running late?”
“Did Daisy not tell you?”
Daisy smiled at Molly. “Tell Uncle Paul what you got today.”
Molly squealed and clapped her hands. “Rosebud.”
“What's a Rosebud?”
Molly jiggled with excitement.
“Your wife bought Molly a puppy that appears to think my best shoes are a toilet and that even if you've got balls, you can still look good in a tutu.”
“She dressed him up?” Daisy laughed.
Molly wiggled, and Daisy grabbed her pudgy hand. The little girl smiled. “He's princess.”
“That is so cool. Can I come and visit him tomorrow?”
Molly nodded. “And play wiv Rosebud.”
“And play with Rosebud.” Daisy glanced at Solomon. “Where did you leave him?”
“In the utility room, which will no doubt be full of dog crap by the time I get home.”
Paul leaned closer to Daisy, and whispered, “What kind of dog did you buy her?”
She whispered back. “A teacup toy poodle.”
“Oh, that I have to see.” Paul tickled Molly under her chin. “Can I come and visit your puppy princess with Aunty Daisy?”
Molly nodded, and then turned her head and snuggled into Paul’s neck.
Paul rubbed the little girl’s back. “Does your da take him for a walk?”
Solomon growled. “No, her da does not. Daisy, we're late.”
Daisy kissed Paul. “Don't forget to talk to Sherman.”
Solomon kissed Molly, and then punched Paul in the shoulder. “Have fun, and thanks for taking care of my girl.”
“You take care of mine, and I'll take care of yours.”
“Don't worry about Daisy. I'll not be taking any risks with her safety.”
“If you want to keep your bollocks, you’d better not.”
“I am here, you know, and I am perfectly able to take care of myself.”
Paul and Solomon smirked at each other, and shook their heads. Daisy turned her back on them, and flounced out the front door. Men could be so stupid sometimes.
*
Solomon pulled the SUV to a stop around the corner from the restaurant. There were so many ways this could go to shite, especially with Daisy involved. He looked at her. She concentrated hard on appearing calm, but the telltale rise and fall of her chest and the way she gripped her bag, as if her life depended on it, belied the calm exterior.
He took hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Ready?”
Daisy nodded. “Ready.”
“No looking around, to see if you can spot the police.”
She met his gaze “And no asking him about Leo Thompson. I know the drill. Are you going to be hanging out in the van the police are using to listen in from?”
“Nope. I'll be right along with you.”
He leaned over and lifted his suit jacket from the back seat, along with a black bow tie.
“You're going to be inside? Won't it be a bit obvious? Didn't you say Nobby knows you?”
“She'll never see me.”
“Are you going to be in the wind? Ninja Solomon again?”
He angled the rear view mirror, and looped his tie into a neat bow. “No one pays any attention to the staff.”
Daisy reached over, and tugged his tie straight. “And what if Nobby does? Why take the risk?”
He grabbed her wrist, and she stared into his eyes. “I told Paul I'd look out for you,”
“There are cops everywhere. I'm hardly in danger.”
He let her wrist go. “You'd better turn on the wire before you head inside.”
Her hands shook as she stuck a finger between her breasts. Solomon shifted closer, and her fruity perfume filled his nostrils. “Are you needing a hand?”
“No.” Daisy turned her back toward him. “I've got it.”
Solomon pulled his phone from his pocket, and dialed Dan Maloney’s number.
The detective answered with his usual, “Maloney.”
“We're in position, ready to test Daisy's equipment, and what lovely equipment she has.”
She reached over, and pinched Solomon's leg. He grabbed her hand and held it hostage, pressed against his thigh.
“Get her to say something, and we'll check we're picking her up okay.” Maloney's voice sounded in his ear.
Solomon turned to face Daisy. “You need to say something, Princess.”
She dipped her head, and whispered at her chest. “Testing. Testing. One, two, three.”
“Did you get that, Maloney?”
“Hastings says we can hear her, but it's a bit muffled. Can she put the mike closer to her mouth?”
“Not in that dress, she can't.”
“We don't have time for her to go home and change. I need to know Daisy’s safe word.”
“Her safe word is dickhead.”
“Dickhead?”
“Yep. It's not a word that is likely to come up in conversation.”
“Okay. We’re ready when she i
s.”
Solomon hung up, and slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Time to go and meet your date, Princess.”
“I thought I was picking the safe word.”
“I figured it was best it not be a word you were ever likely to use in day-to-day conversation.”
“For all you know, I might use dickhead all the time. Like for instance, Solomon is such a dickhead.” Daisy grabbed the door handle, and fought to get it open. He reached over, and flicked the lock. She glared at him, as she shoved the door open and climbed out of the car.
Solomon watched in the rear view mirror, as she smoothed her dress over her hips. His heartbeat lifted, and he let out a low moan of appreciation as she strode with a hip swinging gait toward the restaurant, like a woman on a mission.
Solomon shoved his arms in the sleeves of his jacket, before leaning over and pulling a flat box from the back seat. He stuck a false moustache and goatee to his face, and then checked his reflection in the rear view mirror. He tugged a pair of steel framed glasses from his inside pocket and slipped them on, to complete his disguise.
Daisy had disappeared around the corner. Solomon climbed from the SUV and locked it, before taking a casual stroll down a side street, toward the restaurant’s back door. He was thankful Marcel, the head waiter, was still overwhelmed with gratitude for a little job Solomon had done for him, but the restaurant had a certain reputation to maintain, so Solomon had to be on his game.
Solomon faced ahead, and walked like a man with not a care in the world, hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets, whistling the theme song from Hawaii 5-O. A navy colored van was parked in the backstreet, but it might as well have had lights flashing and sirens wailing. Two men in dark coats loitered at the end of the alley that led to the restaurant's back entrance. Not police. Not men you'd want to mess with in the dark.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Daisy was ready. She knew her backstory. Scarlett Benson from Manchester, only child of a single mother. Her career in finance came to an end when she was caught snorting cocaine in the toilets—habit picked up from a former boyfriend, who’d moved in similar circles to Nobby until a few months ago, when he disappeared without a trace. Alone and convinced something bad had happened to him and she could be next, she’d fled Manchester.
