by JL Simpson
Belinda giggled. “That went well. Pa always said it was best I don’t sing. I’m no canary. More like a vulture.”
With a sigh, Daisy flipped the letterbox on the front door open. “Hey, old lady? What do you expect me to do with these flowers? We were told to make sure they were delivered.”
The door opened, and the woman grabbed for the blooms. Daisy kept hold of them. “I wondered if you knew anything about Sean Edwards?”
“Are you here to deliver the flowers or not? Don’t think I haven’t seen you before.”
Apparently nothing escaped the old biddy, which meant she was perfect. “Okay, we’re not here to deliver flowers, but you can have them, if you’ll tell us what you know about Sean.”
“You think I’d risk my life for a bunch of droopy lilies?”
Belinda rolled her eyes. “They were perfectly fine, until Daisy grabbed them off me. I’ve dozens more in the van, if you’d prefer a fresh bunch.”
The old lady frowned. “Are you a florist?”
Belinda smiled. “Yes, rather. I own In Bloom.”
“Do you do weddings?”
“Absolutely.”
Daisy shoved Belinda aside. “Listen, this isn’t a sales call.”
“Then I can’t help you.”
“Why were you asking about weddings?”
“My granddaughter is getting married in December, and we need a cheap florist.”
“How about Belinda here does all the flowers for free?”
Belinda tugged frantically at Daisy’s arm. “Daisy!”
Daisy glanced at Belinda. “Work with me, will you? Besides, Solomon will pay for everything.”
The old lady glanced from Daisy to Belinda, and stepped back. “Come in, ladies. We’ve got a wedding to plan.”
Daisy shoved the flowers at the old girl. “No wedding planning, until you answer some questions. Oh, and you’d better put the flowers in water. They’re wilting.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Daisy followed the old lady into a kitchen that looked like it hadn’t changed since the seventies.
The woman got busy with the kettle. “Tea?”
Belinda smiled. “Gosh, yes please. Helping Daisy out is stressful work. My nerves are jangling.”
The old lady glanced at Daisy. “I guess you’re Daisy?”
Daisy flashed a smile. “Daisy Dunlop. And you are?”
“Mrs. Henderson. I’m not sure I should get involved. I’ve not got many years left on this planet, and I don’t need to get in the way of someone like Sean Edwards.” Her expression softened. “This used to be a lovely place to live when the estate was first built. The neighbors were all happy to have a real home. We tended the gardens, while the kids played out in the street. We had parties and social events, all in together. As people died or got moved into old people’s homes, riffraff moved in.”
Mrs. Henderson filled the kettle, and switched it on. “I’ve never seen a murder in the street before. The young ’uns are always knocking on the door to number 27. They all think I’m batty, but I see things. They’re buying drugs. The police don’t listen to me. They don’t care about what happens around here. I know what people think of this area.”
Belinda frowned. “Why do you still live here, Mrs. Henderson?”
“Memories.” Her smile deepened the wrinkles on her cheeks, and her eyes glistened with tears. “My Charlie carried me over the threshold, on our wedding day. All of my children were brought up here.” Her gaze drifted upward. “Charlie passed away in the bed upstairs. I don’t want to go to somewhere new and sterile. This was our home, and I intend to die here, same as Charlie did.”
Daisy batted her eyelids, in an attempt to hold back tears. She couldn’t imagine being without Paul.
Mrs. Henderson added tea and boiling water to the teapot, and put it on the table, before rummaging in a cupboard and producing three cups and saucers. Once she had placed a jug of milk, a sugar bowl, and spoons next to the teapot, she took a seat.
Daisy and Belinda did the same, and thanked Mrs. Henderson when she poured each of them a cup. Apart from the clattering of spoons and the splash of milk, the room was silent as the time honored English tradition of making tea was followed.
After swallowing her first mouthful of the hot, sweet liquid, Daisy placed her cup on her saucer, and tugged a notepad and pen from her bag.
Mrs. Henderson frowned. “What are two nice girls like you doing, asking about the likes of Sean anyway?”
“I’m an heir hunter, Mrs. Henderson, and I’m trying to trace Sean’s uncle.”
“An heir hunter? Like that show on the telly? Has Sean’s uncle inherited something?”
“Not exactly. I work with a Private Investigator. We’re looking for a missing poodle.”
“I thought you were looking for Sean’s uncle.”
“We are. We think he has the poodle.”
Mrs. Henderson gazed into space for a moment, a frown creasing her already wrinkled brow. “I did see him with a poodle. Sean. That Lisa woman of his was yelling some filthy words at him. Told him to take the thing away.”
“And did he?”
“He did. A man came in a blue van. They loaded the dog in the back, and sped off. I haven’t seen Sean since.”
“When was that?”
“Last Wednesday afternoon.”
“Did you notice anything unusual about the man or the van that might help us identify them?”
“No. They just looked ordinary.”
Daisy sighed.
Mrs. Henderson took a sip of her tea. “I have got the number plate written down in my little book, though.”
“What?”
“I keep track of all the comings and goings in the street. I write the number plates in a book I keep by the front window. I’ve seen you here before, with that nice looking chap.”
Belinda leaned her chin on the heel of her hand, and smiled. “Solomon.”
Mrs. Henderson glanced at Belinda. “Is he your fancy man?”
“Gosh, I wish.”
“He reminds me of my Charlie. If I were younger, I’d throw my hat in the ring. Not that I wear a hat anymore.” She shifted her attention to Daisy. “Is he your boyfriend?”
Daisy couldn’t imagine why Mrs. Henderson would think that. They didn’t give off a couple vibe. Did they? “No, I’m married to someone else. He’s my business partner. Can we go back a step, Mrs. Henderson?”
“Back where?”
“To the book you keep. Could I possibly borrow it for a day or two?”
Mrs. Henderson pushed to her feet. “You might as well. The police aren’t interested. I told that nice policewoman who interviewed me that I had all this information, but because I hadn’t been here the day they say that man was bumped off, they didn’t want to know.”
Daisy followed Mrs. Henderson through the house. “So you didn’t see anything the day of the murder?”
“No. I was out with Sharon. Since her mum, my Gwen, died, Sharon relies on me for help. We went shopping for her wedding dress. She and Devon can’t afford much, so I used the money Charlie left me for a rainy day. He loved Sharon, and would want to see her married in style.” Mrs. Henderson glanced over her shoulder at Belinda. “You will do the flowers. Won’t you?”
Belinda placed her hand on Mrs. Henderson’s arm. “Of course. Absolutely. I would be honored.”
Mrs. Henderson stopped by the front window, picked a blue notebook off the windowsill, and handed it to Daisy.
“Thank you, Mrs. Henderson. This is a huge help. And like I said, the flowers for Sharon and Devon’s big day are on us. Do you have catering sorted out?”
“I’m going to help Sharon and her sister Megan to make sausage rolls and finger food, and freeze them.”
Belinda tugged a business card from her bag. “You’re not going to offer to cook, are you, Daisy? I’ve heard that cooking isn’t really your forte.”
Daisy sighed. Did the whole world know she was a rubbish cook
? “No. I did some temp work at the college. My friend Sam is the instructor at the cooking school training up new chefs. I’m sure they’d love to practice doing a meal for a real wedding, at cost. How about I give her a ring, and see what she can do?”
Mrs. Henderson smiled. “Would you?”
“Of course. If you write your number and the date of the wedding on the back of the notebook, I’ll give you a call once I’ve spoken to her.”
Belinda placed her card on the top of a nearby dresser. “And I’ve left you my card. Give me a call, and we can arrange a time for you, Sharon, and Devon to come into the shop, to choose the bouquet and flowers.”
Mrs. Henderson wrote her phone number and the wedding details on the notebook, and then handed it to Daisy. “You’re being so kind.”
“And you’re being very helpful.”
Daisy gave Mrs. Henderson a business card. “If you see anything suspicious call me.”
She took the card and glanced out the window. “Suspicious like those little thugs spray painting your nice van and stealing your flowers, you mean?”
Belinda pushed Daisy aside, and stared out the window. “Damn and blast.”
Daisy shoved the notebook into her bag. “Bye, Mrs. Henderson.”
“Do you want me to call the police?”
“No. We’ll take care of it. You just stay inside, out of the way.”
Daisy grabbed Belinda’s hand, and dragged the florist out the front door, before running full pelt toward the van. “Oy! You little shits. Get away from there.”
A boy with a mop of curly black hair flipped Daisy the bird, and she glared at him. Belinda barreled past, and Daisy took off after her. The taller woman was making ground on the gang of prepubescent lads, who sped off, leaving a trail of blooms in their wake. Daisy yelled encouragement from the pavement, as Belinda grabbed the back of one of the boys’ T-shirts. Belinda glanced over her shoulder, grinning in triumph, before her foot landed on a pile of crushed lilies. Daisy grimaced, as the florist let go of the T-shirt, and wind milled her arms in a vain attempt to stop the inevitable. Belinda screamed, as her foot skidded out from under her, and she collapsed in a heap in the middle of the road.
The sound of an engine made Daisy spin around. A vehicle barreled toward the stricken florist. Daisy ran out in front of it, waving her arms and yelling for the driver to stop. Daisy closed her eyes, as the monstrous SUV came to a screeching halt inches from her knees. Heart pounding, she glanced up, and made eye contact with the driver.
*
Solomon thought Nobby was winding him up, when she called and said she’d seen Daisy go into one of the properties a few doors down from Lisa’s, but it was the best lead to Daisy’s whereabouts he had. All the girl at the florist would tell him was that Daisy and Belinda weren’t there.
When Daisy leapt out in front of him, he nearly cracked a back molar gritting his teeth, as he slammed his foot down on the brake. Once the vehicle stopped, he met Daisy’s gaze. He narrowed his eyes, as he shoved the door open. He barely had his seatbelt off before his feet touched the road.
Daisy backed up a couple of steps, but not fast enough. In two strides, he grabbed her by the arm, and tugged her so hard she slammed into his body. “Do you have a fecking death wish?”
“No. Not at all.” She tried to escape his embrace, shoving both hands at his chest. “I was on a mission of mercy.”
“Why aren’t you at the flower shop?”
“If you let me go, I’ll explain everything.”
A moan sounded from behind Daisy, and Solomon shifted his focus. Belinda sat in the middle of the road, clutching her right arm to her chest. Blood seeped out of holes in the knees of her white jeans. “What the hell did you do to Belinda?” Solomon pushed Daisy aside. Bad enough Daisy’s antics put her in danger, but she had no right dragging Belinda into it. Shite. What if he’d run her over? What if she’d died, and he never had the chance to sort out whether what he felt for her was anything more than lust?
“Why do you always assume bad things are my fault?” Daisy asked.
Solomon glared at her, as he squatted next to Belinda. “Can you stand up?”
Belinda looked at him. Her face was unnaturally pale, and sweat beaded her forehead and top lip. “I think I may have broken something.”
“A leg?”
She shook her head. “Gosh no, but I don’t think my right arm is as it should be.”
“Wait here.”
Solomon strode to the SUV. He tugged the first-aid kit from under the front seat, and jogged back to Belinda. She grimaced, as he did his best to secure her arm in place. He glanced up at Daisy. “How did you get here?”
“Belinda gave me a lift in the van.”
“In that case, you can take Belinda’s van and meet us at the hospital.”
“Have you seen the van?”
He glanced in the direction Daisy was looking. “I think it will suit you.”
“If either of us should be seen driving a van with ‘wanker’ written on it, along with an anatomically correct male body part drawn as an exclamation point, it should be you.”
Solomon helped Belinda to her feet, and then scooped her into his arms, careful not to bump her. “Get the keys out of Belinda’s bag, and drive the bleedin’ van to the hospital. You’re skating on thin ice, Princess. You still haven’t told me why you left the shop.”
Daisy took the keys from Belinda’s Coach handbag, before passing it to Solomon. “When I tell you what we were doing here, you’ll be extremely happy we left the florist’s.”
Solomon looked down at Belinda, who lay snuggled against his chest. “I seriously doubt it. Besides, I’m sure Belinda wouldn’t agree.”
Belinda met his gaze, and smiled wanly. “I’ve no complaints. It was worth it, if I get to be carried by a big, strong man.”
“Would any big, strong man do?”
“Well, no. I had you down on my list as the big, strong man I would most like to be rescued by.”
“Did I make any other category on your list?”
Her face flushed a pretty shade of pink. “I’d rather not say.”
Daisy sighed. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking Belinda to the hospital?”
Solomon glared at her. “Like you know anything about doing what you’re supposed to.”
She stomped off, and Solomon placed Belinda on the passenger’s seat of the SUV. He tugged the seatbelt, and carefully wrapped it around her body.
“She really did find out something useful.”
He stopped with his face inches from Belinda’s. “Why are you protecting her? You could have been killed.”
“But I wasn’t. Daisy wants to impress you. She wants you to see she could be good at this.”
“She’s a liability.”
“She’s a good friend, to both of us.”
Solomon took a deep breath, in an effort to clear his head. Not only was Belinda beautiful and very supple, but she also showed a measure of good sense that evaded him when Daisy was around. “Can I take you out to dinner, when this case is over?”
Belinda smiled. “A date?”
He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, sending a surge of desire coursing through his body. He ran a finger down the side of her face, and shifted his focus from her luscious mouth to her eyes. “An apology, and I suppose yes, a date.”
“Gosh, yes, rather. I should fall over more often.”
“Please don’t. I prefer my dates don’t come with bruises. And can we keep news of our date from Daisy? I prefer she not interrupt.”
Belinda’s smile was infectious, lifting his previously dark mood. “Absolutely.”
Chapter Fifty
Daisy glanced at Solomon, as they pulled away from the curb outside Belinda’s flat. He glared back at her. So she’d screwed up again, but he should be getting used to it by now. No one was dead, and her investigative skills had yielded results. The neighbors were always a good source of information; every good he
ir hunter knew that. However she’d never expected to win the jackpot.
Now was probably not a good time to mention that she’d promised Mrs. Henderson Solomon would pay for the flowers for Sharon’s wedding. Fingers crossed it wasn’t going to be a lavish affair, with rose petals carpeting the church aisle. The old lady’s ideas had seemed simple enough, but things could change when someone else was picking up the bill.
Daisy glanced at Solomon again. His jaw was set like concrete. No sign of a thaw setting in yet. “Are you ever going to get over it?”
“You were supposed to be searching the internet.”
“That’s not always the best way to get information. I used my initiative, and it got results. Not only that, but you’ve seen where Belinda lives, and her fantastic king-size bed, so you can knock off the sex-in-the-office routine.”
“I’m not having sex with Belinda.”
“Not yet, but after your date you will be.”
He glanced at her, a frown wrinkling his brow. “Who told you we were going on a date?”
“Yes!” Daisy did a fist pump, and smiled at him. “You did, just now.”
He snarled, and turned his attention to the road. “She’s injured.”
“The hospital said it’s a sprain. She’ll live.”
“No thanks to you.”
“I’ve offered to help out in the shop, and I even got Paul to arrange for one of his mates to re-spray her van at cost.”
“A cost you expect me to cover, along with the ruined flowers. Do I look like a charity?”
“Not one I’ve ever seen.” Daisy frowned. “They usually don’t dress in Armani suits or drive expensive vehicles.”
“You’re not funny. We’ve not earned a penny in weeks.”
“Other than my advance from Candy.”
“A spit in the ocean.”
“Excuse me. You’re the one running around, doing work for free.”
“I’m trying to protect Molly.”
“And I’m trying to help.”
He snorted, and gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
“Don’t you want to know what we found out?”
