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

by JL Simpson

  Daisy rolled her eyes. “You wish.”

  “You'd be surprised, darlin'.”

  He slung an arm over her shoulder and guided her to the bar. She wiggled out of his grasp and clambered onto a bar stool. The man was impossible.

  Solomon ordered a pint of Guinness and a glass of white wine from the young lad behind the bar. Daisy fiddled with a beer mat and considered their options. The young men were unlikely to know Tomas Jenks. The barman? The old geezers playing dominoes? This could be a complete waste of time. When the drinks arrived, Solomon handed the man a twenty pound note before sliding the wine glass along the bar to Daisy

  “I wanted red.”

  Solomon took a sip of his drink. “Do you know how hard it is to get red wine stains out of cashmere?”

  “Do you know how disturbing it is that you would even ask me that?”

  The lad arrived with Solomon's change. He accepted the coins and then smiled at the barman. “I was looking for someone. Tomas Jenks. I heard he drinks here on occasion.”

  The barman shrugged his thin shoulders. “Lots of people drink here.”

  Daisy twirled a curl of her strawberry blonde hair around her finger and batted her eyelids. “Are you sure you don't know him? The major was sure we would find him. I wanted to thank the man who saved his life. Without him, my major would be dead. Instead, he just has a minor injury that Viagra takes care of.”

  Solomon choked on a mouthful of Guinness and she patted his arm. “There, there, Major. Nothing for you to be embarrassed about. I know you still love me even if your private has trouble standing to attention.”

  The barman's face turned an interesting shade of pink. “Can't help you.” He nodded toward the guys who had resumed their game of dominoes. “They practically live here. They might know him.”

  Daisy smiled. “Thank you, sweetie.”

  She climbed off the stool and grabbed her drink. Solomon lifted his pint, prepared to follow. The man behind the bar put a hand on Solomon's arm. “I am sorry to hear about you injury, sir. It must be rough for your wife.”

  Solomon glanced at Daisy. “Fortunately, my wife likes it rough.” He grabbed her arse with his free hand and gave it a squeeze. Daisy squealed and batted his hand away. “Major, I've told you before, not when we've got company.”

  “I'll wait until later when we're alone to thank you for your understanding.” His ice cold eyes drilled into her. She had no doubt that he would deliver on the promise of retribution they held.

  *

  Solomon followed Daisy across the bar. The woman was unbelievable. Why was he helping her again? He should leave her to fall flat on her face. She hadn't even mentioned talking to Belinda for him. He tugged his earlobe. He'd not thought about Belinda for hours. Daisy had chased her right out of his head. Maybe his obsession with Belinda was about being dumped and not love, after all. Either way, he still wanted answers.

  Daisy smiled at the three elderly men. “Can we join you?”

  A pair of watery blue eyes focused on Daisy. “Do you play?”

  She shook her head. “Never learned how.”

  He shifted his attention to Solomon. “You?”

  “I've played a time or two.”

  “I'm Dinger.” He nodded to his left. “And this is Simmo.” He nodded right. “And Duck.”

  Solomon smiled. “Solomon.”

  Duck glared at him. “You here to play or talk?”

  Solomon pulled out a chair and sat. “I'll play.”

  Daisy hovered by his side. Solomon smiled up at her. “Why don't you see if these fine gentlemen would like a fresh drink?” He pulled a fifty pound note from his wallet and passed it to her.

  Dinger winked at Daisy. “Three pints of bitter.”

  Solomon could hear her teeth grinding. She'd need some expensive dental treatment if she kept it up. Without a word, she spun on her heels and stomped back to the bar.

  The men watched as Simmo placed the dominoes face down and shuffled them before sliding them across the table until they all had a hand ready to play. Solomon took a sip of his Guinness. “The barman says you're here often.”

  Dinger looked up from perusing his hand. “What of it?”

  “I wanted to find a man I used to serve with.”

  Duck frowned. “I've never served with you, unless you joined up as a baby.”

  Simmo chuckled.

  Dinger got the game started. Solomon went next. Daisy returned with the drinks and three packets of Pork Scratchings. It was an all-out charm offensive. He smiled as she folded her arms and tapped her foot. “Will you not sit, darlin'?” He patted his knee. She glared at him before pulling up a chair.

  Solomon waited until Duck had his turn before restarting the conversation. “I owe the man I'm looking for.”

  “What do you owe him?” Simmo played his tile.

  “If it weren't for him, I'd not be here today.” Not a lie.

  “What makes you think we'd know him?” Dinger looked skeptical.

  “His name's Tomas Jenks.”

  Simmo shook his head. “Bad business.”

  Daisy grabbed Solomon's arm. “What is?”

  “You missed him.”

  “How's that?”

  Duck sucked his drink between his ill-fitting dentures before placing his glass on the table. The other two men looked at him. Apparently, he was the leader of the pack. He sniffed and wiped the back of his hand across this mouth. “Went to his funeral last week.”

  Solomon mustered up a sorrowful expression. “Bollocks. Has he any family? I'd really like to pass on my condolences to his wife and children.”

  Duck shrugged. “Never mentioned any.”

  Daisy sat closer to the table. “Many people at the funeral?”

  Dinger played his tile before looking up at Daisy. “No. The three of us, the vicar, a skinny kid in a bad-fitting suit, and a pregnant woman and her husband.”

  Solomon added another domino to the pattern snaking across the tabletop. “Were they his relatives?”

  Dinger shrugged. “They didn’t hang around long enough for us to speak to them.”

  Solomon frowned. “Do you know where he was from?”

  Duck knocked on the table top to indicate he was skipping his turn. “Mentioned coming from up North. Said he moved here for his health.”

  Daisy was positively squirming with excitement. God help them if these grumpy bastards actually gave them something useful. She was going to knock the dominoes over if she didn't calm down. Solomon placed a hand on her leg and she glared at him. He raised an eyebrow. Her expression remained fierce but she got the message and sat farther back in her chair.

  Solomon kept his hand on her knee as he shifted his focus back to the game. “The north is a big place.”

  Simmo played another tile. “When he had too much to drink, he had an accent. I don't think he meant the North of England. He sounded Scottish or Irish. Hard to tell.” Simmo smiled at Solomon. “You all sound the same to me.”

  Solomon smiled back. “North, south, you all sound the same to me, too.”

  Dinger opened a bag of Pork Scratchings, sending them tumbling across the table. He scooped them back into the packet. “Scottish. I'd bet my left testicle on it.”

  Duck glared at him. “You don't have a left testicle.”

  “Do, too.”

  “It's not real. Implants don't count.”

  Dinger looked pointedly at Daisy's chest. “So she doesn't have tits?”

  Daisy's leg tensed under Solomon's hand. “My wife is one hundred percent real. But we've wandered a bit off topic.”

  Dinger leaned closer to look at Daisy's chest and then shifted his focus to Solomon. “Scottish. He told me once he loved the bagpipes.”

  Simmo snickered. “You like chick flicks but that doesn't make you a woman.”

  Duck glared at Dinger. “You going to play or not?”

  The game continued. Simmo knocked when his turn came around. “You didn't say where you ser
ved with him.”

  Solomon placed his second to last domino. “Met him soon after I finished basic training.”

  Simmo frowned. “In Kent?”

  “Indeed. In Kent.”

  Dinger knocked the table. “Shame you missed him. Never said anything about his past other than how much he loved his time in Maidstone. Reckons the women there couldn't resist him.”

  Solomon laid his last domino down and smiled. Duck glared at him. “Beginner’s luck. Want another game?”

  “Unfortunately we have somewhere to be.” Solomon drained his glass and stood up. Daisy followed suit.

  * * * * *

  Daisy scribbled in her notebook while Solomon eased out of the car park. He glanced at her. “What are you writing?”

  “Notes for the whiteboard.”

  “What have you got?”

  “Scottish, stationed in Kent. It's not much.”

  “What about the pregnant woman and her husband at the funeral.”

  “Liam Sparks. Melanie's pregnant.”

  “The skinny kid?”

  Daisy shrugged. “Could be anyone.”

  “Jenks was in the Royal Engineers.”

  “They never said that. How do you know?”

  Solomon smiled. “They've a camp in Maidstone.”

  Daisy closed her notebook and shoved it in her bag. “Not much for the hour we wasted. Where to now?”

  “It's your investigation, but I've a mind to visit Mrs. Sidebottom.”

  “Why? She's got nothing to do with Tomas Jenks.”

  “But she can give us a lead on who your dead man was.”

  “He isn't mine.”

  Solomon stopped at a red light. “Do you have her address on you?”

  She had no plans to give the address to Solomon. Mrs. Sidebottom was a distraction they didn't need. Tomas Jenks was her main concern. The police probably collected bodies from that housing estate every week. The dead man had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He'd done Daisy a favor. She knew she could have been the killer's victim, the same as anyone else who happened to walk into the house when he did. The police could focus on which one of the lowlifes in the local area had used Not Trevor as a pincushion while she focused on finding her missing beneficiaries. “How about we call it a night? I'm exhausted.”

  “You want to go home?”

  “I can do some research.”

  Solomon smiled. “Will Doughnut be home?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Solomon chuckled. “Research.”

  “I'm not going home to have sex, if that's what the dirty little chuckle was all about.”

  “Neither am I. According to my wife, I've got erectile dysfunction.”

  “You don't have a wife.”

  “I also don't have erectile dysfunction.”

  “Really? I thought that might be the reason why Belinda ran out on you.”

  “It's not.”

  “Still want me to find out why she dumped your sorry arse?”

  Solomon shrugged. “Not bothered.”

  “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

  “You're such a child.”

  Daisy laughed. She'd missed winding the miserable git up.

  He glanced at her. “Will I be picking you up in the morning?”

  “Seeing as you made my car mysteriously disappear, I don't have any other option, do I?”

  “You could catch the bus to the office.”

  “I don't catch buses. And since when are we using your office?”

  “Since you told me Belinda was in St Tropez.”

  “So you were hiding from her.”

  “It's called a tactical retreat, Princess.”

  “So when does the offensive begin?”

  Solomon smiled. “Never reveal your strategy to the enemy.”

  “Speaking of enemies, really where the hell is my car?”

  Solomon shrugged. “I've no idea.”

  Daisy folded her arms. “Fine. Take me to the police station.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to report it stolen.”

  Solomon took the next left in the direction of the local police station. Bugger, maybe he wasn't the one who'd arranged for her car to go missing.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Daisy stood outside her garden gate and watched Solomon drive off. She hadn't planned to report the car stolen, but when he'd parked outside the police station, she could hardly back down. The police had no intention of finding her car. All she had to show for the time she'd wasted was a piece of paper with the details she needed to report the theft to her insurance company.

  Ever hopeful her car would show up, she didn’t plan to make a claim. Her no-claims bonus was a thing of the past. In fact, the insurance company had not only charged her a fortune to cover her car, they'd upped the amount she had to pay in the event of a claim before the policy kicked in. Something about her being a bad risk. If it was life insurance, she'd understand, but her car had remained mostly unscathed since her recent change of career to heir hunter.

  She opened the gate and made her way up the front path. Paul was on a late shift so his car was still in the driveway. He'd be off to refill the ATM machines with fresh new cash in an hour or so. Shame he couldn't bring his work home. She hesitated on the front doorstep. Johnny would be inside waiting for her. The evil curly-haired monster had a sixth sense about when she'd be home. After taking a deep breath, she unlocked the door and stepped inside. The dog sat in the middle of the hall, his tail beating against the floor. Paul was probably showering for work. Sherman should be home somewhere. The TV wasn't blaring. No sounds of computer games. He must be doing his homework. Hopefully not reproductive biology.

  Despite Solomon's cologne-infused jumper, she could still smell the bitter scent of coffee on her skin. She shut the door behind her and placed her bag on the hall table. Johnny watched her every move but stayed put. Maybe if she rewarded him for his good behavior, he'd learn that leaving her alone was the better option. She ignored the pounding of her heart as she took a step closer to the stairs and the dog. “Good boy.”

  His tongue lolled out of his mouth. She took another step. “Good boy. There's a good boy.”

  Johnny got to his feet. Daisy’s stomach did a somersault of fear. He launched himself toward her, his feet scrabbling for purchase on the shiny flooring. With a scream of terror, Daisy bound up the stairs and burst into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. He let out a howl as he smashed into the door.

  She clasped her hands to her chest, gasping for breath.

  “Daisy?”

  She screamed and spun on her heels. “Fuck!”

  Paul lay in the middle of the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of plaid socks and a smile. “Couldn't have put it better myself.”

  “What?”

  He moved his hips suggestively.

  “Why are you naked? I could have been anyone.”

  The deep rumble of laughter that escaped his lips made her toes curl with lust. God he was so delicious, and this was so not happening.

  “Where's Sherman?”

  Paul clambered off the bed and stalked toward her. “I knew it was you because no one else runs away from a poodle like he's one of the hounds of hell. I'm naked because I just had a shower but thought you might want to get me dirty again before I get dressed. And Sherman is at Ben's for—” He glanced at the clock on their bedside table. “At least half-an-hour.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Want to play hide the sausage with me?”

  Daisy was tempted. Sex was more relaxing than a hot bath, and she didn't end up wrinkled like a prune. The walls in the house were like paper but if Sherman wasn’t home he couldn’t hear them. He would never know. Paul grabbed the bottom of her jumper. “Arms up.”

  She did as he asked. Goosebumps flowed over her skin as the soft cashmere caressed her upper body. Paul tossed the jumper aside. Daisy stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. His lips brushed her shoulder as
he kissed his way toward her lips. She shivered with desire. Coming home had been the right decision.

  She wiggled as Paul unzipped her skirt and let it slide over her hips. He lifted her in his arms and carried her across the room. A sigh escaped her as he placed her in the middle of the bed. He pounced on her, making her giggle with delight. Paul fingered the edge of her lacy bra before placing a kiss on the top of each breast. “Yum espresso. My favorite perfume.”

  She flipped him onto his back. “I had a bit of a mishap.”

  He chuckled. “Of course you did.”

  The feeling of his hands skimming the sides of her body made her moan. “It could happen to anyone.”

  “Absolutely.” Paul walked his fingers along her back until he reached the clasp of her bra and released it.

  She held her breath, waiting for him to make his next move.

  The bedroom window shuddered and a loud bang filled the silence. Daisy grabbed Paul's arms. “What was that?”

  Paul sighed. “Front door.”

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Daisy leapt off the bed and made a run for the ensuite bathroom, leaving Paul holding her lacy bra.

  Paul made a grab for her but missed. “Daisy? Daisy?”

  She slammed the door and pressed her ear to the cool gloss finish.

  Sherman's voice seeped through the wood. “Where's Mam?”

  “Not here.” Paul's voice sounded gravely.

  “So that's not her clothes in the middle of the floor?”

  “No. They belong to Mrs. Baker from number 46. Since your Mam has banned me from having sex with her, I thought I would see what else was available in the neighborhood.”

  “No need to be sarcastic. It's not my fault she won't have sex. Not that you should be having sex when you're a parent.”

  “And where exactly do you think you came from?”

  “Martians left me on the doorstep.”

  “That would explain a lot. Now, if you don't mind, I need to get dressed for work.”

  “Mam, when you stop hiding in the bathroom, I need your help with my homework.”

  Daisy tiptoed across the bathroom and flushed the toilet. She grabbed her robe and wrapped it around her body before opening the door.