by JL Simpson
She continued to self-medicate, to help her deal with the fear that she had gotten in over her head and was now on someone's hit list.
With her reputation trashed, she lived off unemployment benefits and her wits. The path she was on would undoubtedly lead to prostitution, but for now, Scarlett kept her legs closed and looked for other ways to feed her habit.
Daisy’s heart was pounding, and her hands were slick with sweat. She wiped her palms on her skirt and fluffed her curls, before pulling the gleaming chrome and glass restaurant door open and stepping inside. The air hummed with voices.
Her gaze swept the room. A cute twenty-something man in a light gray suit lifted a glass in her direction, and winked. He couldn’t be a cop, could he? She shifted her focus, and made eye contact with her target. Nobby got to her feet. She wore a dark suit that hid some of her puppy fat, giving her a more masculine look. The imposing tattoo on her forehead was covered by a large cream fedora. The whole outfit screamed gangster from the Al Capone school of thuggery. Most people would look completely stupid in the outfit, but Nobby looked perfectly comfortable dressed that way.
Shoulders back, Daisy sauntered across the room, provocatively swinging her hips. The Maitre d stepped in front of her.
“Can I help you?”
She lifted an eyebrow at the svelte man in the fancy suit and tie. “I wish you could, but I'm meeting someone.”
His eyes flickered in Nobby’s direction. “Very good, Madam. Have a good evening.”
Nobby watched as Daisy sashayed across the restaurant. Daisy concentrated on using every ounce of seductive charm she possessed. Her palms were still damp, and she was sure the armpits of her dress would be too, if the thing had sleeves. At least the gravity defying strapless scrap of fabric had Nobby focused on something other than the fact that, no matter how tightly Daisy clutched her purse, her hands still shook.
Nobby looked her up and down. “Scarlett, you look stunning.”
Daisy’s lips felt stiff, as she forced a smile. She perched on the edge of the chair the waiter pulled out for her, and leaned back as the bearded and bespectacled man placed a napkin in her lap.
The waiter circled the bare skin of her thigh with his hand and squeezed. Daisy held back a squeal of shock, instead glaring at him. Blue eyes stared back at her, and he winked. Fear melted to relief. She took a slow deep breath, and smiled at Nobby, determined to relax and get the job done.
Solomon lifted a bottle from the table, and filled Daisy’s glass with red wine. She kept her focus firmly on Nobby, and hoped to God the woman wasn't a big eater. Three courses could take hours. Other than wanting to know what Nobby had diversified her business interests into, Dan Maloney hadn't said what else he might want Daisy to find out. Could she even get Nobby to open up to her? And if she did, would Nobby get suspicious and set her goons after Daisy? Surely the woman hadn’t come alone. In which case, how many people in the room where there to protect Nobby’s interests, and how many were cops?
Nobby smiled. “How about you let me order for you?”
Daisy was sure she wouldn't be able to swallow a mouthful, no matter how good the food looked. “That would be lovely.”
*
Solomon took the order, and then hovered at a discreet distance.
The couple who sat furthest from the door were busy with their main course—not that the guy had eaten much. His dinner date was in raptures over the whole evening. Solomon hoped the male diner would be too, once he actually asked her the question and she said yes. The poor bastard was pale and sweating. Solomon was nervous for him. They both needed a positive response. The male diner would get the girl and Solomon would get the distraction he needed when the other patrons realized what was going down.
The skinny kid had asked Solomon's advice and Solomon had agreed the traditional route of getting down on one knee was the way to go. He also suggested he ask his lady friend to marry him when the desserts arrived. That gave Daisy half an hour at best to pump Nobby for information, before Solomon made his move.
Daisy seemed to have relaxed, and was deep in conversation with Nobby. Solomon knew from firsthand experience Nobby was an easy person to talk to. If Daisy used her legendary charm, by the end of the evening she should be wise to the mystery that was Delia Clarke. Although the Police were stupider than he imagined, if they thought Nobby’s deepest darkest secrets would be divulged willingly over the mouthwatering three course meal she’d ordered.
The door to the restaurant opened, and Solomon stepped to the left, to better view who’d arrived. Shite. Mavis hadn't mentioned she was part of the team working the restaurant gig. His new nanny was arm in arm with Hastings. The man could barely tear his eyes away from his dinner date long enough to speak to the maitre d’. If Daisy saw them, she’d know she had backup in the event Nobby worked out this was a sting, and yet no one, Nobby included, would ever think the couple were police officers.
Mavis glanced around the room as she slipped into her seat. Solomon shifted so his face was in shadow. Her gaze moved past him without a hint of recognition. Now more than ever, he needed to hold his nerve and keep to his role as just another hardworking, underpaid waiter.
He stepped forward, lifted the wine bottle, and refilled Nobby's glass. Daisy had barely touched her drink.
“Is the wine okay, Madam?” Solomon asked.
Daisy stared at him for a moment, and then nodded. “Fine. Fine. Lovely.”
He smiled. She probably wondered if it was him or not, but he could hardly wear a disguise and keep the Irish accent. The more guttural local accent felt strange in his mouth, but he'd slipped into it as easily as he slipped into his best Armani jacket.
With a nod, he turned and walked to the kitchen, to see how chef was going with their order and make sure the champagne was on ice for the big proposal.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Daisy was seriously crap at undercover work. Nobby quizzed her about her life, and Daisy managed to bluff her way through, needing much more of a backstory than the one Hastings had handed her at the police station. She glared at the cop. Here she was, working her arse off for free, and Hastings was dining on the taxpayers' money. Not only dining, but dining with Mavis, who stared at him like she was besotted.
Solomon cleared the empty plates from the table, playing the ever efficient waiter to perfection. If he were in Daisy's place, he could have gotten Nobby to open up.
Daisy took a sip of her wine.
Nobby leaned back. “Do you like dogs?”
Her heart raced. Did Nobby suspect something? “What?”
“When I was a kid, I had a poodle. No matter how crappy your life is, a dog still loves you. You should get a dog.”
“I’m not sure.”
Nobby rested her arms on the table, and stared at Daisy. “My aunty used to breed them. I could fix you up.”
“I bought a poodle already.”
Nobby’s eyebrows disappeared into her hat. “You did? Aren’t they expensive?”
“Yes. No. I bought it for someone else. I didn’t buy it with my own money.”
Solomon lifted the wine bottle, and refilled her glass. She glanced at him and he mouthed, “Shut up.”
She'd been in danger of telling the woman she'd got it for her niece. That would blow her story that she was an only child. God, bringing Molly's existence to Nobby's attention had ‘danger’ written all over it. If she'd killed Leo, and was friends with Lisa, she’d know Lisa had a kid called Molly.
Solomon slid the plates of main course in front of them, and Nobby devoured her steak.
Daisy swallowed her chicken, which could have been cardboard for all she could tell. “Were you close to your aunty?”
Nobby shrugged her shoulders. “She wasn't really my aunty. She was someone social services sent me to, when things got bad at home one time. After that, she kept in touch and let me stay with her for the school holidays.”
“That's nice.” Daisy smiled, and hoped it looked
sincere. What kind of ‘bad’ did this poor woman’s childhood contain? “So, did you have brothers and sisters?”
Nobby shook her head. “Nope, just me and my aunty's kid. He was a bit older than me. He died.”
“Oh, I am sorry. Was it sudden?”
Nobby put her knife and fork down, and leaned closer. “You might have known him.”
“I doubt it.” Daisy lifted her glass and grasped it with two hands, as the wine sloshed dangerously close to the top. She gulped a mouthful of shiraz.
Nobby's eyebrows sunk lower over her eyes, and her stare turned cold. “And yet, Daisy Dunlop, you brought him up in conversation. His name was Leo Thompson. Did you kill him?”
Daisy choked on the wine. Nobby knew her real name. Fuck. As she tried to put her glass down, it hit the edge of her plate with a clang. It lurched, and she reached out for it as it toppled into her lap. Daisy squealed and grabbed at the glass. The wine spread, turning her blue dress a vivid shade of purple.
Solomon appeared at her shoulder with a large napkin, and began to pat ineffectually at the spill.
She shoved him off and stood up. “I need to... I'll be back.”
Nobby jumped to her feet. “Daisy?”
Other diners stared at Daisy. She’d fucked up.
She grabbed the napkin out of Solomon's hands, and made a dash for the ladies room. A young man who stood in her way began to drop to his knees. She tripped over his leg, and grabbed at him to stop herself from face planting on the carpet. He shoved her aside, and fumbled madly to keep hold of something he had in his right hand. It bounced out of his grasp, and landed with a resounding plop in the middle of his date's decadent chocolate dessert, splattering her gleaming white designer dress with dark brown splodges.
The young woman screamed in shock, and Daisy apologized, fled down the corridor, and shoved the door to the ladies’ room open. She ran some water into a basin, as she patted at the red wine stain. The room had windows high up on the wall behind the cubicles. Perhaps she could use one of the toilets to give her a boost, and escape before Nobby, or the no doubt pissed off date, came to get her.
She dropped her head, and yelled into her cleavage. “Hello? Hello? Did you bastards hear that? Nobby knows who I am. You need to get me out of here. Emergency. Emergency. Woowoo. Woowooo. Danger. Danger!”
The door opened with a loud thud. Daisy squealed, and made a dash for a cubicle. A warm hand encircled her wrist, and she tugged to be free, gouging her assailants hand with her nails, as she was dragged backward across the smooth tile floor.
*
Solomon pulled Daisy around to face him. Her eyes were huge, her face flushed, and her chest heaved with each inhalation. She appeared a second away from total emotional meltdown. He’d under-estimated Nobby again, but this time Solomon had come out on top. “Daisy.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. Hugging him tight, and probably staining his second best suit with the rich red Australian Shiraz she'd chosen to compliment her ensemble for the evening. She loosened her hold and stared up at him, her breath coming in short puffs. “This is the ladies’ room. You can’t be in here. What if Nobby comes in?”
Solomon dipped his head to her ear. “Shh.” He unraveled her arms from around his neck, walked to the basin and turned all four taps on. Then he pressed the button for the hand dryer. The air filled with the throb of the fan and the rush of water.
Daisy opened her mouth, and he shook his head. “Not a word.”
The door to the ladies’ room opened, and he caught a glimpse of white dress. Solomon grabbed Daisy, pulled her into a cubicle, and slammed and locked the door behind them.
Daisy had turned a romantic proposal into a slapstick routine any clown would be proud of. The man had still gone down on one knee, but having to fish the ring box out of his beloved's dessert—while her efforts to clean up spread the brown goo all down the front of what had been a lovely Chanel dress—took the romance out of the whole thing. The woman’s face had been dark with rage. If Daisy said a word to her, they could end up in a cat fight. Even if the woman graciously accepted Daisy's pleas for forgiveness, it would waste time. Time they didn't have, now Nobby had let on she knew who Daisy really was.
Daisy fought to get to the door handle. When she opened her mouth to no doubt swear at him, Solomon covered her lips with his own. She tasted of wine, and her body was soft and pliant as she relaxed into him.
She tensed, squealed, and shoved at Solomon, but he tangled his fingers in her hair. When she kept fighting, he grabbed the back of her head, keeping her right where he needed her. She was as stiff as a mannequin in his arms. He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, and she gasped, giving him all the time he needed to deepen the kiss.
She grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and turned the kiss back on him. Her tongue tangled with his. She nipped his bottom lip, and he growled and pulled her hard against him. Kissing her had started as a pleasurable way to shut her up but it was now a fight for dominance that had nothing to do with sex.
She shifted her hands down his body, and he stifled a groan of pain when she ran them over his hips, touched his backside, and sunk her nails into his suit covered flesh. He let her head go, and grabbed her around the waist. She twisted and shoved against him, but he held her tight, her sounds of protest muffled by the kiss.
The hand dryer stopped, and the taps were turned off. He kept his mouth on Daisy's, not yet willing to let her go, in case she screamed. Kissing Daisy was no hardship. Paul sure had taught the woman to kiss like a dream.
The door to the ladies room banged as the woman left. Daisy made a noise that was no moan of desire, and the angry squeal lifted a notch when he hooked two fingers into the front of her dress and retrieved the wire she was wearing. The gadget landed in the toilet bowl with a splash. Solomon let Daisy go, before hitting the button and flushing the device away.
His voice sounded husky, as he whispered, “If you were any other woman, Princess, I’d interpret your red cheeks and panting as symptoms of lust, and suggest we take this somewhere softer and more horizontal.”
Her eyes flashed with anger. She lifted her hand, and he grabbed both her wrists.
“Let go of me.”
“Promise to behave, and I'll tell you what we're going to do.”
Her chest heaved with each breath. Anger or lust? He was struggling to interpret his own reaction to the passionate clinch, without trying to fathom hers. She glared, and he flashed a lopsided smile. “Promise.”
“I promise. I also promise to pay you back when you least expect it.”
“I've no doubt you will.”
He turned and unlocked the door to the cubicle, and she squeezed past him, wiping her mouth with the wine stained napkin before crossing to the sink and spitting loudly. “Your beard sheds, and you kiss like a slobbery dog.”
He shook his head. “We've only a minute or two before someone comes to find out why the wire's dropped out.”
“It didn’t drop out. You flushed it.” She scrubbed frantically at the stain on her dress. “We need the police to help us. Nobby thinks I killed Leo, and she knows my name.” Her eyes were wide with fear, when she met his gaze in the mirror.
“I heard. If she knows who you are, and still turned up for your date, she isn't onto the fact you’re working with the police, and I want to keep it that way. I’ve got it all in hand, and you’ve nothing to fear. Nobby can't be our killer, if she's accusing you.”
“So what's she doing here?” Daisy stopped trying to clean her dress and threw the napkin aside.
“That's what we're going to find out, Princess.”
“How?” She tugged at the top of her dress, and smoothed the fabric over her hips.
“By persuading Nobby we're on her side. This is better than I planned.”
“Planned?” Apparently happy she had put her clothes to rights after their frantic tussle, she began to fiddle with her hair.
“We were going to kidnap her.”
>
Daisy stopped fluffing her curls, and turned to stare at him. “Nobby? Southampton's answer to Al Capone?”
Solomon paced up and down. “Now she'll be glad to come with us.”
“And how exactly do we get her out of here, without the police asking where we're all going?”
Solomon stopped in front of Daisy. “When Mavis comes in to check on you, you're going to tell her the wire fell in the toilet by accident. After seeing your performance in the restaurant, I'm sure she'll have no trouble believing you. Then you're going back into the dining area, and you're going to casually tell Nobby to meet us both in the men's room.”
“I'm going to meet you in the men's room?”
“No one will be looking for you in there.”
“And what reason do I have to leave the table again?”
“You'll be asking me for a napkin soaked in white wine, to get the stain out of your dress.”
“And then what?”
Solomon turned his head and listened, as footsteps sounded in the corridor. “Mavis is coming.”
The toilet door swung open, as Solomon dived into the cubicle and slammed the door shut.
*
Mavis smiled at Daisy. “Everything all right?”
“Fine.” Daisy’s face flushed with heat. “Apart from…I'm assuming you saw that out there.”
Mavis laughed. “I did. If it's any conciliation, the girl said yes. The restaurant is still in an uproar. Everyone is trying to help out by buying the lucky couple drinks. You could probably slip back in, without being noticed.”
“Not sure that's a good idea.”
Mavis stepped closer, and whispered, “You need to stay where we can see you. The wire's not working.”
Daisy sighed. “It fell into the toilet. So is that it? Can I go home now?”
Mavis placed her hand on Daisy’s shoulder. Maybe Daisy had been wrong, and Mavis and Hastings had been playing at being all loved up. Mavis certainly seemed to be all business now. “Sorry, Dan wants you to keep Nobby talking. Without the wire, we can’t use anything Nobby tells you to prosecute, but you might be able to get us some information we can use to get her to co-operate.”
