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

by JL Simpson

  “Can you look at the board, and see if you can tell what’s missing?”

  Daisy started at the pictures, while Solomon waited. She scrunched her nose, as she moved in closer. “I’m not sure.”

  “Have you got a hint? An idea? A recollection of anything being in the blank spot?”

  *

  Daisy closed her eyes, and tried to remember the jumble that had caught her attention. The picture of Chester was still slap bang in the middle. The rosettes were all around the edge. Had there been another photograph?

  “There was a newspaper clipping.” She opened her eyes and stared up at Solomon. “Do you think it’s important?”

  “Depends what was on it.”

  “It was a picture of a three kids and a poodle. The paper was yellowed and tatty around the edges.”

  “Did it have a heading, saying what newspaper it was from?”

  She shrugged. “Sorry. I don’t know.”

  “I guess that’s something we need to find out, then.”

  Solomon ushered her into the garden, and closed the door behind them. The rain had become more persistent, and they huddled under the eaves, trying to stay dry, as he tugged his phone from his pocket.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “The police.”

  “What are we going to tell them?”

  “We’ve nothing to hide, Princess. You were paid by Candy to find her dog, and we came here to give her a status update.”

  “What update?”

  Solomon shrugged. “I’ve no idea.”

  She waited while he gave the address and the details of the crime. When he hung up, she nodded toward the shed. “Are we going to take a look around some more?”

  “Not much point, in this weather. Any tire tracks or footprints will be long gone. We’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “Why kill Candy?”

  “Once we know the answer to that, I’ve a feeling we’ll have the answer to everything.”

  “Where did the dogs go?”

  “The police were already alerted to them being on the loose. Someone called and said half-a-dozen standard poodles escaped their kennel.”

  “Who?”

  “They told the police they were a dog lover, but refused to leave a name.”

  “Are you going to call Nobby?”

  “Not just yet. We’ll call in on her later. She’ll want to rush over, and there’s no need to get the police interested in her relationship with Candy.”

  “So what now?”

  “How about we wait in the car, and try and warm up before they arrive?”

  Daisy jogged alongside Solomon to the SUV, and clambered inside. Once the engine was ticking over, she turned the heating to high, and relaxed back in her seat. A quick glance at her hair in the side mirror revealed that her carefully tamed curls were now an out-of-control mop. Once her hair dried, she’d look a lot like the poodle she was hunting.

  The windows started to fog up, and Daisy sighed.

  “Something wrong?”

  “I haven’t steamed up the windows like this since Paul and I got married.”

  “And I bet steaming them up with Doughnut was a lot more fun.”

  “Not saying.” Daisy glanced at him. “Do you ever wish you’d married?”

  “I’m not sure I’m the marrying kind. Besides, no woman would want to put up with me long term.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m sure you’ve got a longer list of my faults than I do.”

  “Rude, bossy, angry, secretive…”

  “That’s quite a list.”

  “You’ve got your good points too.”

  Solomon raised an eyebrow.

  Daisy smiled. “Loyal, affectionate, protective, a good friend, great father—”

  “And I’m brilliant between the sheets. Are you sure you don’t want to marry me?”

  “Solomon!”

  He chuckled. “You seemed smitten for a moment, so I thought I’d better check.”

  “Paul would kick your arse.”

  “Doughnut would never be quick enough to catch me.” Solomon smiled. “All joking aside, I’m happy for you and Paul. I know you think everyone needs to be with someone, but I’m content with what I have.”

  “What about Molly?”

  “What about her?”

  “She needs a mam.”

  “She’s got one, although a lot of use she is.”

  “Will you ever tell her about her real father?”

  He shrugged. “The useless shite is in and out of jail. He has no more business bringing up a child than Lisa does. Maybe one day, when Molly’s old enough to understand that as far as I’m concerned she’s mine. I’d not want her chasing after him, and getting involved in his shenanigans.”

  Daisy leaned her head against the headrest, and closed her eyes. “And yet you gladly drag me into yours. I’d never seen a dead body, until I started working with you.”

  “You can’t blame me for Candy. She was your client.”

  “What are we going to do once the cops let us leave?”

  “We’d best get back to my place, and let Doughnut off babysitting duty. I’ve some research to do.”

  “Can I help?”

  “No need, Princess. After the day you’ve had, I think you should go home and give your man some loving. Not that you have sex with the poor bastard.”

  Daisy smiled. “Of course I don’t.”

  The sound of sirens and the glow of red and blue lights in the rearview mirror caught their attention. Solomon reached over, and gave her hand a squeeze. “Showtime, Princess.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Solomon stretched, and inhaled deeply. A glance at the clock showed it was a little after ten. He was thankful Molly had gone to bed and snuggled up to Rosebud, without a care in the world. Once she was asleep, he rescued the little man and took him outside, to do his business. Now the dog was curled up, sleeping in a box on the study floor. The baby monitor on Solomon’s desk was silent. He’d been hard at work for two hours, and was finally making some progress. Daisy had insisted on taking his spare laptop home and helping out. Provided she managed to keep her pants on, she might have found something of interest.

  Solomon lifted his phone off the desk, and pressed speed dial for Daisy. It rang a half a dozen times, before she answered. “Hi, Solomon.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask how it’s hanging?”

  “I’ve moved on from that greeting.”

  A chuckle escaped him. “Shame. I was looking forward to telling you.”

  “Is this a business call, or are you so hard up you have to phone women and make lewd comments, to get your rocks off?”

  “I’ve found something on the internet.”

  “What?”

  Feet on the desk, he leaned back. “The picture was in the archives of the Daily Bugle. It was taken twenty three years ago.”

  “Does it say who the kids are, and why the newspaper took the photo?”

  “That it does. Chester, Nobby, and a Polish kid called Bogdan had their picture taken when the paper did a feature about foster care.”

  “Who’s Bogdan?”

  “I’ll be asking Nobby that question tomorrow.”

  “We’ll be asking that question tomorrow.”

  “Have you had any success?”

  “Dogs that are up to date with their rabies shots, and have a clean bill of health, can go to and from a lot of places, without any need for quarantine. There are some other rules, but it can be done. They do need the appropriate paperwork though, to show where they’ve been. If Chester took some of Candy’s dogs overseas, they’ll have passports somewhere.”

  “If we could get our hands on them, they might give us some clue as to what’s going on.”

  “If we could. But we can’t. Can we?”

  “Is that a rhetorical question?”

  “Does that mean you’re going to break into a crime scene?”

  “You need to st
op asking questions you don’t want answers to, Princess.”

  “Okay. Whatever. If I didn’t see it, it never happened.”

  “A sensible attitude. If only the police were of the same view.”

  “You’re not going tonight, are you?”

  “I’ve Molly in bed upstairs.”

  “Do you want to go tonight? I could come over.”

  “It’s late. How would you explain your disappearance to Paul?”

  “I’ll tell him I’m having a passionate affair with you, and I just have to get some tonight.”

  Solomon’s laughter made the puppy whine in his sleep. “He’d not believe you.”

  “True. Why would I want minced beef, when I’ve got porterhouse steak at home? Do you want me to come over?”

  “I might not be back for a few hours.”

  “I’ll talk to Paul. If I bring a change of clothes, I can stay the night. I’ve got to take you to meet Cherry in the morning, anyway.”

  “As long as Doughnut’s okay with it.”

  “Leave Paul to me.”

  “I’ll see you soon then, Princess.”

  “See you.”

  “Daisy?”

  “What?”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  Solomon smiled. How would he have ever managed without her? She’d accepted him as Paul’s secret brother, and cared for Molly as if she was her own “Daisy, I love you.”

  “Sure you do. And I’m a monkey’s uncle.”

  He hadn’t expected hearts and flowers, but he had hoped for a more positive response. “My heart’s broken by your callous disregard for my feelings.”

  Daisy laughed. “I’m not going to say it back, because I don’t believe you.”

  “It scares you. Doesn’t it?”

  “Nothing scares me.”

  “Drive carefully, Princess.”

  She hung up without another word, and Solomon chuckled. He’d said it to wind her up, but on some level, he actually meant it. The crazy redhead had wormed her way into his affections. Paul, Sherman, and Daisy were the family he’d never had, and he loved the whole bleedin’ lot of them, Daisy included. He had to be going soft in his old age.

  * * * * *

  The bedroom door flew open so hard it banged off the dresser, and Daisy squealed with fright. Her fear was replaced with another emotion, as Paul stepped completely naked into the open doorway. Well, not quite completely naked. He was wearing his socks and his fishing cap, although there was no way it kept his head warm.

  “What’s with the hat?”

  “I didn’t want to scare Sherman.”

  “He’s seen a naked man before. One looks back at him from the full-length mirror, every time he steps out of the shower.”

  Paul pushed the door closed with his foot, crossed the room, and put the cap on Daisy’s head. “But he might not be ready for this.”

  Daisy wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, but I’m not ready for this either.”

  He slid his hands down her back, and cupped her bottom. “Why? I thought we could have an early night. Expand our minds.”

  “There was only one thing you planned to expand, and it’s not called a mind.”

  Paul dipped her and kissed her long and hard, before coming up for air and setting her back on her feet. “Guilty as charged. I can’t help it, if you drive me nuts.”

  Daisy struggled to stay upright, clinging to him for support, as her body heated with desire. “Nuts, in a good way? Because I drive Solomon nuts, but he never reacts like this.”

  “I should hope not. He needs to learn to keep his pants on around you.”

  “It was one time, and he was flashing you, not me. I just got caught up in the moment.”

  Paul chuckled. “Did you really think he wanted to have sex with me?”

  “No. Yes. No. At the time, it seemed a reasonable explanation. No sane man asks his best mate to shoot him in the arse.”

  “I never said Solomon was sane.”

  “Speaking of Solomon…”

  “Why are we talking about Solomon? It’s not helping my libido.”

  “You’ll have to put your libido away for the night.”

  “Why?”

  “He called. He needs to go out, and I volunteered to drive over and sit with Molly.”

  “When will you be back?”

  Daisy ran her fingers through Paul’s hair. “He doesn’t know how long it will take, so I said I could sleep over.”

  “All night? What’s he doing?”

  Daisy shook her head. “It’s best you don’t know.”

  Paul’s eyes darkened with anger. “He better not be putting you in danger, or I’ll kick him up the arse.”

  “I’m not in any danger. How could I be, at fortress Solomon?”

  “When is he expecting you?”

  “I never said. Why?”

  Paul scooped her into his arms, and carried her to bed. “If he asks what took you so long, tell him something came up.”

  She dropped her gaze, and giggled. “It wouldn’t be a lie, exactly.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Solomon drove off the main street, and killed his headlights. A glance at the dashboard clock showed it was almost midnight. Candy’s house stood a long way from any neighbors, but he didn’t need someone with a twitchy curtain finger calling the cops to investigate a car arriving at a murder scene in the middle of the night.

  He pulled the black SUV along the side of the house, out of view of passing traffic, and switched off the engine. A full moon illuminated the garden, and made the crime scene tape almost luminescent. The cops had undoubtedly been all over the place, but if they didn’t know what they were looking for, the passports should still be inside.

  When a cloud blew in front of the moon, Solomon scooped up his gloves and torch from the front passenger seat, and climbed out of the car. A quick glance around the area confirmed he was alone. He jogged across the grass to the back of the house.

  The police had secured the doors with tape. Needing to get in and out without anyone knowing he had ever been there, he moved further along the back wall, until he found a large window. The old-fashioned slide along aluminum proved no deterrent to entry. He hesitated, holding his breath until he was happy the screech of the sliding window hadn’t alerted anyone to his presence, and then he scooted his legs over the windowsill, and slipped inside. He flicked on his flashlight, to discover he was in what appeared to be Candy’s bedroom. By the looks of the place, Candy was no housekeeper. The bed was unmade, and clothes were strewn over every available surface. Drawers hung open, probably left that way by the police, but he doubted all of the mess was down to sloppy new search techniques.

  He crossed to a cupboard next to the bed, and took a look inside—underwear, romance novels, but no sign of any papers. Her wardrobe gave the same result, and nothing else in the room looked like a place you’d keep important documents, so he moved on. Two other bedrooms were cold and stark. The beds were made, and when he opened the wardrobe doors, he found them empty.

  Thankful that Candy owned a small home, he continued his search in the lounge, and finally arrived in the kitchen. Blood still stained the wall and rug. Solomon glanced around. A bureau stood in the corner behind the dining room table. His ma had owned something similar. She’d used it to store the bills she struggled to pay. He pushed memories of his mother aside, and moved across the room.

  After placing the flashlight on the table, so it shone on the bureau, he rolled up the front and pulled the two doors open. There was no evidence of the mess he’d seen in the bedroom. Everything was lined up and filed. A quick search of the shelves netted him a box filled with dog passports and travel documents. He placed the box on the table, and took his phone from his pocket. He photographed the pages one by one, so he could study them later.

  The contents of the box recorded, he put the documents back inside, and slipped it into the bureau. Once he was happy everything
was as he found it, he made his way back to the bedroom, and climbed out the window, before closing it behind him.

  The wet weather had broken late afternoon. Even though there would be no evidence outside the kennels, he jogged across the lawn and pulled the door open, before stepping inside and switching on his flashlight.

  A gas heater stood at one end of the building. Daisy said it was on when she went looking for the missing dogs, but it was cold now. The police had to have searched the place. They had no more idea what they were looking for than he did. A set of drawers was filled with dog jackets. Leads hung from pegs next to the door. None of the individual cages were occupied, and the beds sat empty. He counted up the leads. Eight.

  A soft whimper sounded from behind a box at the far end of the room. Solomon crossed the floor, and aimed his flashlight’s beam behind the empty box. Two large brown eyes peered back at him.

  “Hey boy.”

  The dog’s tail thudded against the cardboard, as the creature scrambled to its feet. Once out of hiding, it skulked toward Solomon. He held out his hand. “Hey, fella. I won’t hurt you.”

  Solomon was rewarded with a tentative sniff and a lick of his fingers. He spent a few moments crooning and petting the apricot standard poodle, until he earned the dog’s trust. When he crossed back to the door, the dog followed. Solomon glanced at his watch. It was well after one in the morning, too late to call the RSPCA. He could leave it in the kennel, and call first thing.

  The dog rubbed its head against Solomon’s hand.

  * * * * *

  Daisy sipped her glass of wine, and stared at the whiteboard she’d set up in the lounge. She’d written everything Solomon had on the one in the office, as best as she could remember, and had added some details about Candy’s murder. Some questions were circled in red. Who is Bogdan? Who killed Chester and Candy? Where did the dogs go? Who was shooting blanks at Nobby, and why?

  Chester had been shot at Lisa’s, and according to Solomon, Candy had expected, or knew, her killer. Why else would she be drinking tea with them? One bullet had finished off Chester, but a shotgun at close range had been the weapon of choice for Candy.

  Daisy picked up the red pen, and wrote in big letters at the bottom of the whiteboard, “Mr. Randall owns a shotgun. Is he our killer?” A man who greeted his visitors with a weapon clearly had something to hide, not to mention the mystery of the new garden bed behind his shed.