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

by JL Simpson

“What's the rush? Fletch is running late.”

  Solomon poured half of his pint down his throat before shifting to yell in her ear. “You can't come to a place like this and not enjoy all it has to offer.”

  Daisy glanced around. Everyone was decently dressed, well almost decently. If this was one of those raunchy sex clubs she wasn't seeing it, and she also wouldn't be joining in. She frowned. “What does it have to offer?”

  Solomon placed his empty glass on the bar and urged Daisy to take a few more mouthfuls before he'd answer. Then, as if words wouldn't adequately convey what he had in mind, he grabbed her hand and tugged her into the throng of heaving bodies twisting and gyrating to the music.

  “Dancing?”

  Solomon grinned. “What did you think I meant?”

  “Can you even dance?”

  He pulled her tight against him and moved with a lot more mobility than the average forty-year-old. After a few tentative steps, she let the throbbing pulse guide her body. She twirled away from Solomon and swayed with her arms above her head.

  The music morphed and the crowd closed in as the dancers moved to accommodate more people. Daisy toppled on her heels as a particularly aggressive girl slammed her with an impressive backside. Apparently twerking was a real thing and this girl had it all going on. Solomon slipped his arm around Daisy's waist to steady her. She yelled as close to his ear as she could get, “Is it time to see Fletch?”

  Solomon glanced at his watch and gave her a nod. Before she could even look around to get her bearings, Solomon grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd. Daisy had to practically jog to keep up. People glared as Solomon elbowed them aside and she offered a belated apology as she hurried past.

  “Daisy Dunlop?” A deep male voice with an American accent sounded close to her left ear.

  She turned toward the man she was supposed to be meeting. Tall, slim, impeccably dressed in a dark blue suit and white shirt with French cuffs. His hair might be blonde and his eyes brown but the man was clearly cut from the same cloth as Solomon. Old army buddy? Or maybe they had both been James Bond in a former life.

  Daisy held out her hand. “Mr. Fletcher.”

  His grip was warm and firm. “Please, call me Fletch.” He let her hand go and turned to Solomon. “Do you want to join us?”

  Solomon took Fletch's hand. His smile never made it to his eyes. “What do you think?”

  Daisy looked from one man to the other. There was a lot of macho posturing in the handshake. Whatever the two of them were, friends wasn't it. There would be no point in telling Solomon that this was her case and that she wanted to deal with Fletch on her own. Solomon might use Fletch for information, but they clearly had some unresolved trust issues.

  Fletch stepped back. “Shall we?”

  Daisy found herself in an Irish-American sandwich. She wasn't surprised to discover Solomon knew the way. The door they passed through led to a dark corridor. Lights flickered to life above them before winking out after they passed. As they climbed a circular steel staircase, the sound of the nightclub faded into the distance. Only the thump of the bass made it this far into the building. The farther they walked, the happier Daisy was to have Solomon along. Fletch might be a good contact but she was glad she wasn't alone with him. The man seemed harmless enough to her, the choice of locations to meet not so much.

  She followed Solomon into an office. Everything was black and red, leather and chrome. Fletch crossed the room and opened a drinks cabinet. “Can I get you something?”

  Daisy shook her head. Fletch looked at Solomon. “Not for me. We've work to do later.”

  Fletch poured himself a glass of scotch and slipped into the chair behind the black desk. “So, Daisy Dunlop, what can I help you with?”

  Daisy pulled the note from her clutch purse. She held it out to Fletcher. “I need to know whatever you can find out about this bank account.”

  “When you say whatever I can find out, what do you mean?”

  Solomon placed a hand on Daisy's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. What was that all about? “We'll be needing a price.”

  “And I'll give you one once Daisy tells me what she needs to know.”

  She took a breath. “Who owns the account?”

  “Just the name?”

  “And their address.”

  Fletch leaned back and put his feet on the desk. “Easy enough. Ten thousand pounds should cover it.”

  “Ten?” If she didn't find Jenks' sister, she was only going to earn four thousand.

  Fletch smiled. “We could do a deal, pretty lady.”

  Solomon's grip on her shoulder tightened. “No deal.”

  “I thought this was Ms. Dunlop’s case?”

  Daisy shook Solomon off. “It is. What's the deal?”

  “How much do you want to pay?”

  “A thousand.”

  Fletch blew out a breath. “Four thousand.”

  Daisy chewed her bottom lip. At least she'd break even. “Fifteen hundred.”

  “How about three thousand and you can throw a little something in on the side.”

  “What sort of something?”

  “A favor. Something that uses your particular talents.”

  “Heir hunting?”

  Fletch smiled. “Something like that.”

  A new case. Daisy could agree to that. “It's a deal.”

  Solomon glanced from Daisy to Fletch. “What are you going to get Daisy to do?”

  Fletch took a slug of scotch. “I'll be in touch when I decide.”

  “Whatever you need, you ask me. I'll do it.”

  “Deal's with the pretty lady. Might not be something you can help me with.”

  Solomon placed his hands on the desk and stared at Fletch. “I don't care if I have to wear a dress and lipstick.”

  Fletch chuckled. “It wouldn't be the first time. Do you remember that whorehouse in Bangkok?”

  Daisy didn't need to see Solomon's face to know he was giving Fletch the stink eye. His whole body throbbed with barely contained anger. “I don't. And neither do you.”

  Fletch shoved the piece of paper Daisy had given him into his pocket. “I'll be in touch when I have what you need.”

  Solomon grabbed Daisy's hand and pulled her toward the door. Fletch laughed. “Hey, Solomon.”

  Daisy turned her head and Fletch winked. “Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”

  Solomon tugged her along behind him. She jogged to keep up. “What was that all about?”

  “What was what all about?”

  “The whorehouse and you in a dress.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Didn't seem like nothing.”

  He turned his head and glared at her. “I said nothing.”

  Daisy tried a smile. “Okay, then. Nothing it is. So what's next?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The drive to Tomas Jenks' house had been fast, furious and very silent. Whatever was eating at Solomon, he wasn't in a sharing mood. The evening had started so well with a girlie drink and some dancing, but Fletch had killed the happy vibe. If this was a date, Daisy had no doubt Solomon wouldn't even be walking her to the front door, never mind giving her a goodnight kiss. Thankfully, this wasn't a date, this was work. If anything could get Solomon back into his right mind, it was the idea of snooping around. The man was bound to cheer up once they had something other than brooding for him to focus on.

  Her mind turned to Fletch's comments. Had Solomon really worn a dress? She tried not to smile at the thought. He was a very manly man. Did he wax his legs beforehand? And his chest? Did he wear heels?

  Solomon’s voice broke the silence. “I know what you're thinking.”

  Daisy glanced out the window as the car slowed to go over a speed hump at the entrance to the estate. “I'm thinking we need to get on with it.” She yawned loudly. “I'm not used to being out so late on a school night.”

  “Liar.”

  She turned in her seat and stared at his prof
ile. His jaw was set like concrete and his knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel as if his life depended on it. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  She shrugged. “Didn't think so. So why even mention it?”

  “I didn't. You were thinking about it.”

  “Thinking about what? I have no idea what Fletch was talking about. Pretty much your whole life is a mystery to me.”

  “Good.”

  “Is what you’ve done in the past really that bad? So you had to pretend to be a woman. I know the underwear is uncomfortable. God knows, I've had days when I wish I'd been born with a penis if it meant I could ditch the bra and thong.”

  Solomon glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. “You’d not suit a penis.”

  “Fine, if it makes you happy, I’ll never think about you in a dress.”

  Solomon pulled the car around the corner from Jenks' house and then down a back alleyway before killing the lights and the engine.

  Daisy reached for the door handle but Solomon grabbed her elbow. “You need to take your clothes off, Princess.”

  “What?” Daisy shook him off. “Why?”

  Solomon reached into the back of the car and passed her Paul's hold-all. “Because you're not going anywhere dressed like a disco ball.”

  *

  Solomon paced up and down the alleyway behind Jenks' house. How long did it take to change clothes? It wasn't like she had a whole wardrobe to choose from. It had taken him two minutes to swap his shirt for a black hoody. He could see her flailing around in the back of his SUV, but he'd promised not to watch so he kept his distance. Other than movement he couldn't see anything.

  He really had fucked up by letting her anywhere near Fletch. The man was a bleedin' moron. Daisy already knew about one of Solomon's escapades with Paul on behalf of the British government. Fletch's inability to keep his mouth shut, combined with Daisy's inability to mind her own business, was a dangerous combination. To say nothing of the favor Fletch wanted from her. He'd bet his left bollock the favor would be something she should be staying well away from. Fletch might not accept Solomon doing the job instead, but whatever Daisy was asked to do Solomon would be going along as her adviser, and bodyguard, if required.

  The back door of the SUV swung open and Daisy stepped out into the alleyway. Solomon shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants, rocked back on his heels and did all that he could to hold back the laughter threatening to spill from his lips. She stuck her hands on her hips. “Will this do?”

  He might be able to contain the laughter but there was no way he could hold back a smile. She stepped closer and frowned. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “What exactly is it that you're wearing?”

  She glanced down at herself. No doubt admiring the pair of black yoga pants, silky boxer shorts, boob tube with silver sequins that spelled the word “Baby” on the front and a fluffy short-sleeved black cardigan. She'd topped the outfit off with a black beanie, some Prada sunglasses and a pair of canary yellow rubber gloves. The fire engine red heels really added a sense of style to the whole outfit. “I don't have many casual clothes in black.”

  “And shoes?”

  “You never mentioned shoes so I didn't bring any.”

  Made sense. Why would you need dark shoes to go with a dark outfit when you were playing cat burglar? “The gloves?”

  “I brought along a pair for you as well, in case you don't have any.”

  “Are you planning on getting me to help with the washing up?”

  She glared at him. “They're so we don't leave any fingerprints.”

  The chuckle he'd been holding in finally got loose. Daisy poked him in the chest. “Don't laugh. We can't go around leaving evidence.”

  “Princess, we've been in the house before. It's already covered with our prints.”

  “Won't the police be looking for new ones?”

  “The police have all the evidence they need. They'll not be back again unless they get a report of something suspicious going on.”

  “Like us being in there in the middle of the night.”

  “Like a strange woman wandering around the place dressed like…like…” Solomon shrugged. “I've got nothing.”

  “Fresh out of insults?”

  “Your outfit is beyond insults.”

  Daisy tugged the gloves off and threw them at Solomon. “I'm sure you've worn some strange things in your time.”

  He shoved them in the pocket of his hoody. “Not voluntarily.”

  Daisy took a step closer, a frown on her face. “Was it a pretty dress?”

  With a growl, Solomon turned and strode toward the back fence of the house.

  Daisy cursed as she hurried to keep up. He heard her stumble and cry out in pain. When he turned around, she was sitting on the ground clutching her ankle. Women were a bleedin' liability. Movie heroes always got caught when they went back to rescue the girl. He should leave Daisy in the car. She shoved her glasses on to the top of her beanie-clad head and stared up at him, her big green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He let out a sigh. Fecking hell. She would be the death of him.

  He squatted beside her. “Can you walk?”

  Her chin wobbled and a tear twinkled in the streetlight as it trickled down her cheek. “I think it's broken.”

  Solomon gently manipulated her ankle with his fingers. “I think you need to man up, Princess. At worst, it's a sprain.”

  “I don't care what it is, it hurts.”

  “Do you want to wait in the car?”

  She prised his hand off her leg. Her eyes flashed with anger. “You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

  Solomon smiled and tugged a curl that had escaped from her beanie. “You've no idea what I'd like, darlin'.”

  “Don't try and flirt me into your car.”

  “I've flirted women into all sorts of places.”

  “And no doubt out of lots of clothes, but your charm doesn't work on me.”

  “So you'll not be wanting a ride then?”

  Her cheeks turned crimson. “Is that a euphemism?”

  “It's an offer to give you a piggyback.”

  “What about your foot?”

  “Like I told you, Princess, man up. I'll not be letting a bruised foot slow me down.”

  He might be willing to pretend he wasn't in pain, but twisted ankles really hurt. “How are we going to break in if I'm on your back?”

  “We don't need to break in. You've got the key.”

  Daisy glanced at Jenks' house. “It won't be as exciting if we do something as normal as unlocking the door.”

  “I'm all about mundane.”

  Daisy frowned. “Really, because when I think of you I think of adventure.”

  Solomon snorted. “When you think of me you think of Irish git, and you've not got the key with you, have you?”

  “Of course I have. I put it in my handbag.”

  “Wait here and I’ll go and fetch it.”

  Solomon jogged to the SUV and arrived back with her clutch bag. He had done some stupid things in his life but he knew better than to look inside a woman’s bag. He handed it to Daisy and she rummaged around inside. After a few minutes she closed the bag.

  He frowned. “Where’s the key?”

  Daisy sighed. “I must have left it in my other bag.”

  “The suitcase-sized one you normally lug around on a daily basis?”

  “No. My little silver sparkly one. I thought it would go with the top but it was too matchy matchy so I changed it for the red one that went with the heels.”

  Solomon rubbed at his short hair. “And this silver bag is at home.”

  Daisy nodded. “I guess that means the adventure is over for today.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  Daisy waited as Solomon ran to the SUV to stow her bag. He jogged back and squatted beside her. “Are you ready to do some snooping?”

  She nodded and Solomon turned and bent his knees. Daisy u
sed his body to pull herself to her feet and then clambered onto his back. He'd had women climb him before but for far more interesting reasons.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Daisy leaned against the wall by the back door, where Solomon had left her. He'd disappeared in through the kitchen window ten minutes ago. Maybe he'd disturbed the killer. Maybe he'd fallen and banged his head. Or maybe he'd decided Daisy was too much trouble and was searching the house without her. She hobbled to the back door and raised her hand to pound on the glass panel. A face appeared and she screamed. The back door swung open, Solomon grabbed her around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder before stepping back inside the house and slamming the door.

  He dropped her onto a kitchen chair and shone his torch in her face. “What the feck? Are you trying to get us arrested?”

  “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Who did you think I was?”

  “I thought the bad guys must have been inside waiting for you.”

  “Nothing so exciting. Shall we make a start?”

  “Didn't you make a start already?”

  “No.”

  “So what took so long then?”

  “Does it matter?” He shifted the torch to shine on her feet. “You'll not be able to walk with those shoes on.”

  Daisy tugged her red shoes off and tossed them on the floor. “Yes, it matters.”

  “Fine. Call of nature.”

  “It takes you ten minutes to have a wee?”

  “I never said I was having a wee.”

  “Call of nature?”

  “Call of nature, and I don't suggest we search the bathroom unless we come across a can of air freshener first.”

  Daisy curled her nose up in disgust. “God! You're such a man.”

  Solomon chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “Have you only just noticed, Princess?”

  Daisy wasn’t even going to dignify that with an answer. “Are we going to search or what?”

  “Can you walk?”

  “I can walk.”

  Solomon handed her the small flashlight before tugging another one out of his pocket. “Then you can start with the downstairs and I'll do upstairs.”

  Solomon took a step toward the door that led into the front hall. “Solomon.”