by JL Simpson
He had a sneaking suspicion the people currently peeping in the window would recognize them if they focused on their faces. As long as they were getting a show, their focus would be elsewhere. He mumbled “sorry” against Daisy's lips before he tugged her boob tube down and covered her naked breast with his left hand. Daisy moaned something back and he growled when her fingers slid from inside his top and started to fumble with the zipper on his pants. Feck. The woman wouldn't, would she?
He grabbed her hand and pressed her palm against the front of his jeans. If she continued with her current plan of action, she was playing with fire. The saying “never pull out a gun unless you intend to use it” seemed weirdly appropriate. A man who had been celibate for as many days as he had only had a limited amount of control. Besides, today wasn’t clean underpants day.
Deep male laughter sounded outside the van. “These two need to get a room.”
“Disgusting,” a familiar female voice added.
“Do you want to try out my gear stick later?” the male asked.
She replied, “Not if you were the last car on earth.”
“Ian, I've told you before,” another male voice joined the conversation, “stop saying shit like that to her.”
“Why?”
“Because Danny loves me, and you're a moron. I only play with his gear stick.” She giggled.
“Cut it out, you two. We need to get moving.” Ian sounded grumpy.
“What about them?” Danny asked.
“Leave them to it. If they want to shag in a back alley, what do we care?” the female replied. “Hey, Ian, why don't you go ahead? I need to see if I can get Danny into fourth gear.” The girl giggled again.
“If you want to fuck, do it later. Come on, Dan. I don't even know why you brought her along.”
“She has her uses,” Danny replied. The sound of a smack followed by a girlie giggle filled the alleyway before the light flicked off and the voices faded into the distance.
Solomon broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Daisy's. How exactly did they get themselves into these situations? He lifted his head and stared into Daisy's eyes. Without looking down, he pulled his hand away from her breast, and tugged her boob tube back into place as if nothing had happened. She scrambled back into her seat. Solomon leaned forward and rested his head on the steering wheel.
Other than his ragged breathing, the only other sound to fill the deathly silence was the clunk of Daisy fastening her seatbelt.
She cleared her throat. “We should probably get out of here.”
Solomon took a few deep breaths. “I just need a minute here, Princess.”
“I'd ask if there was anything I could do to help, but I think I've probably done enough.”
Solomon glanced at her. “Are you laughing at me?”
She shook her head but failed to stop her full red lips from curling up in a huge smile.
“Proud of yourself, are you?”
“The bad guys have no clue why we were really here.”
Solomon leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. “Neither do I, darlin’.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Daisy snuggled down in bed. The body next to her shifted and a warm wet tongue tickled her thigh. Eyes closed, she contemplated Paul's next move. He must have decided that her sex ban was off, not that she was complaining. After her activities with Solomon the night before, she was feeling a little amorous herself. If she had sex with Paul, it was because he instigated it and she could hold her head high, having stood by her principals. Sort of. Footsteps sounded on the stairs and then the bedroom door swung open. Daisy eased up on her elbows. Paul appeared with a cup of coffee in hand. She frowned as the warm tongue licked the spot behind her left knee. If Paul wasn't in bed…
With a squeal, she threw the bed covers aside, revealing the dog. She shoved at him but that just made the stupid thing think she wanted to play. He jumped to his feet and barked, wagging his tail like a windsock in a cyclone. Heart hammering, she put her hands over her head and screamed for help.
Paul laughed. “I wondered where he'd got to. Out you go, Johnny.”
The dog leapt off the bed and padded down the stairs as Daisy scrambled to retrieve the blankets and cover her body in case Sherman was lurking in the hallway.
Paul kicked the door closed and crossed the room. “Morning, sleepyhead. I'm about to head out to work.”
After struggling to sit up, she took the cup off him. “You should have woken me.”
Paul dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I wasn't sure how late it was when you got in last night. You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to disturb you.”
Daisy took a sip of her coffee. She shuddered as she thought about Johnny licking her legs. The dog was starting to get a real taste for her. It was only a matter of time before he moved on from starters and decided to sink his teeth into her flesh. Paul sat on the edge of the bed. He might not have been planning to breach her defenses but he knew a cup of coffee was the way to her heart. She smiled at him. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Daisy let the covers slip a little farther down to reveal her cleavage. When she'd made it home the night before, her desire for sleep had overridden her desire to change her clothes, so she'd crawled into bed naked. “Why not call in sick and come back to bed?”
“I can't. Besides, now that you've got your car back, I thought you'd have work to do.”
Daisy choked on a mouthful of hot coffee. “What? When?”
“A man dropped it off around seven. Said it had been found abandoned up on the old industrial estate. Apparently a mechanic has given it a look over and, other than the oil leak that we knew about, it was fine. Some kids probably took it joy riding and then dumped it.”
“It wasn't kids. Melanie Sparks said it was taken away by the cops because they had a report that it might be a bomb.”
Paul grinned. “It's a bit old, but I think calling it a bomb is going too far.”
“I know who did this.”
“Who did what?”
“Stole my car and brought it back.”
“As long as you got it back, does it matter?”
“Are you really going to take his side?”
Paul frowned. “Who are we talking about?”
“Solomon.”
“The Solomon who has been working on your case with you for free? The Solomon who came around earlier with a note for you?”
“The Solomon who can't decide whether he likes me or not.”
“He seemed to like you well enough this morning.”
Daisy stared at Paul. What had Solomon been saying about her? After the incident in the alleyway, they'd driven to Daisy's in silence. She'd dozed off somewhere near Ringwood. She'd only woken up when the car stopped outside her front gate and Solomon had given her a quick shake. “What did he say?”
“He stopped by to drop off a list of things you can follow up at home and said that he'd call you later. He told me you twisted your ankle last night. You should spend the day resting.”
Daisy took another mouthful of coffee before placing the cup on the bedside table and throwing the covers back. “I can't rest. Liam expects me to give him answers by the weekend and it's Friday already.” She looked at her ankle. It was still a bit puffy and was developing a lovely bruise. She wiggled her foot. Maybe she had overreacted the night before. It really didn’t feel too bad. Not that she’d be admitting that to Solomon.
“Daisy?”
She looked up at Paul. He swallowed and got to his feet.
“What's up?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. I've got to go. I'll see you later.”
Daisy clambered off the bed, being careful not to put too much weight on her foot. “Don't I get a kiss?”
He gave her a peck on the cheek. “See you later.”
Paul crossed the room and then stopped and looked back at her. Maybe he'd changed his mind and decided to call in sick. She bri
efly wondered if they still had the can of whipped cream in the back of the fridge.
“Can’t you stay for a few minutes? I might need some help in the shower.”
Paul took a deep breath. “Christ. I can’t do it.”
Daisy frowned. “Do what?”
She barely had time to register he was moving before she was pinned to the bed. His lips found hers. They tussled as she ripped frantically at his clothes. He sat up and pulled his work shirt over his head and threw it aside. Daisy got busy with the button and zipper on his navy blue work pants. Paul groaned as she slipped his pants and undies down over his backside and gripped a handful of butt cheek. He kissed her neck and she writhed beneath him. The headboard bounced off the wall as they teased each other with simulated sex.
Her heart was pounding, her body throbbing with unquenched desire. Paul pushed himself up on his arms and smiled. He was at the threshold and her body had strung up the welcome banner. The party was in full swing, the brass band was playing “When the Saints Come Marching In.”
“Daisy?”
She closed her eyes. “Oh God, Paul.”
He shimmed his hips, teasing her and building the anticipation as the headboard banged in time with her heart. The band got louder, joined by the voices of angels. Very deep-voiced angels.
Her eyes flew open. The brass band stopped and the voices grew louder. “Is that Sherman?”
“What?”
“Who’s Sherman talking to?”
“Ben came over for breakfast.”
All thought of sex fled her mind. She shoved Paul aside. He landed on his back. The knowledge that they had been copulating loudly in the presence of two teenage boys hadn’t cooled his ardor at all. He’d probably need a cold shower before he had any hope of getting his pants zipped up.
Paul made a grab for her. “Do you want to be on top?”
She scrambled off the bed. “Ben’s downstairs, with Sherman.”
“And?”
“The bed squeaks and the headboard bangs off the wall.”
“So, we can continue this in the shower.”
Daisy shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t relax if I know they’re listening.”
Paul flopped an arm over his face and let out a loud sigh. “You’re killing me, Daisy.”
“Sorry.”
Paul climbed off the bed and she watched as he pulled his clothes back on. Within minutes, the only evidence of their amorous tryst was a slight bulge in the front of his pants.
He dropped a kiss on her cheek before crossing to the bedroom door.
Daisy sighed. “I do love you.
Paul shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “I love you too. I’ll see you tonight.”
Daisy smiled. The word “tonight” was filled with promise. “See you tonight.”
“Oh, and Daisy, put some clothes on before you go downstairs.”
Paul closed the door behind him and Daisy sat on the end of the bed. She contemplated going in the shower but the growl of her stomach, and her need to see what Solomon had left for her, overrode any desire to take care of her personal hygiene. The shower would still be there later. After struggling into the clothes she'd dumped on the floor the night before, she padded downstairs surprised to discover that the pain in her ankle wasn't much more than a dull ache. Ben and Sherman's chatter came to an abrupt halt as she opened the kitchen door.
Ben flashed a smile. “Morning, Mrs. Dunlop. Nice outfit.”
Daisy's mind had been on other things but maybe the boob tube with the boxer shorts wasn't such a good idea on their own when Ben was visiting. Was he grinning at the way she was dressed, or at the noises he’d heard from upstairs?
Sherman groaned. “Why can't you dress like other mams?”
Daisy crossed the room and gave him a kiss on the cheek before he could duck out of the way. She smiled. “What would be the fun in that?”
Sherman lifted his backpack off a kitchen chair. “Come on, Ben. We're gonna be late for English.”
Daisy waved a teaspoon at them as she stopped halfway through shoveling sugar into a cup of black coffee. “Have fun, boys.”
Ben smiled. “You too, Mrs. Dunlop.”
Sherman shoved Ben into the hall. Their voices carried as they made their way toward the front door. “I wish my mum looked like that.”
“No, you don't.”
“Why not?”
“Because then your mates would stare at her.”
“Your dad is a lucky man. You know I'd do her.”
“That's disgusting.”
Daisy opened the hall door. “Ben?”
He turned. “Yes, Mrs. Dunlop?”
“You do know that I can hear you, don't you?”
He smiled. “Yes, Mrs. Dunlop. Your house has very thin walls.”
Daisy face warmed with embarrassment. The little shit had heard everything that was going on upstairs and was goading her. “You might like to try being more respectful in future.”
His smile got wider. “Yes, Mrs. Dunlop.”
The kid was way too cocky. “Well, have a nice day.”
Before Ben could answer, Sherman pushed him out the front door.
Daisy stepped back into the kitchen and added milk and two more sugars to her cup. While she drank her coffee, she planned to read the note currently sitting in the middle of the kitchen table. She could make breakfast but a piece of toast would be enough to keep her stomach happy for now. Why bother making more of an effort when the bakery close to Solomon's office did such a lovely bacon sandwich?
A scratch sounded at the back door followed by a high-pitched howl. Her heart raced and sweat dampened her palms. God, the dog. She needed to call and see if Evan was back from his trip and had found a home for the stupid creature. One more early wakeup call or boisterous greeting at the front door and she'd have a heart attack.
* * * * *
Solomon cruised through the estate where Jenks’ had lived. He was looking for trouble, and he hoped to find it wrapped up in a teenage-girl-shaped package. If he'd been here working, she would be hanging off his arm, based on her behavior the last two times he'd met her, but today when he wanted her, she was nowhere to be seen. Granted it was a school day, but he doubted that she was a regular attendee. He turned right at the mini roundabout and cruised down another street crammed full of seventies houses. A few people had renovated their places. New windows, shiny bright new front doors, a front porch, creatively designed front garden, but they were an oasis in a desert of rundown hovels, abandoned cars and boarded-up shops.
The Thatcher Government's plans in the eighties to help council house tenants buy their own homes had done little to change the lives of the people who had been housed here. It was difficult to buy anything without work, and giving this place as your address would do little to encourage an employer to hire you. A few residents would escape to bigger and better things, and eventually the bulldozers would arrive and a new housing estate would rise up out of the ashes. The current residents would be moved on somewhere else. Closing the shops was just the start of the local council's plans to capitalize on the human misery. People who'd bought into the estate would be compensated to give up their houses. Everyone else would get nothing to help with the upheaval.
Another corner, another grimy street. Raindrops splattered against his windscreen. He took the next left and headed back to the boarded up pub. If he was a teenager bunking off school, he'd be hiding somewhere out of the weather. Half-an-hour he'd wasted looking when it was bleedin' obvious where he should have started the search.
He pulled his SUV into the pub car park. Tugging up the collar of his full-length black leather coat to stop the rain dripping down his neck, he sprinted across the damp asphalt toward the abandoned building. A gust of wind tugged at a loose board, leaving it flapping and banging against the window frame. He'd been right. This was where she'd be.
Solomon approached with caution. She'd not be alone, but he doubted he was in danger as long as t
he girl had anything to say about it. She thought a man with an expensive car could be her ticket to a better life, even if she had to buy it by spreading her legs. He'd never demand she pay for anything but that didn't mean he couldn't do her some good. A mutually beneficial arrangement. One that she might actually agree to. One that could change everything for her. Not that he was stupid enough to believe the girl's well-being was his motivation. His motivation was purely to help Daisy solve her case.
Solomon climbed in through the window and pulled his penlight from his pocket. Laughter sounded over the whistling of the wind. Muffled voices. Footsteps. More laughter. He followed the sounds and hesitated outside a swing door. All of the fixtures and fittings had been stripped out. The air was tainted with the pungent aroma of damp rotting wood and stale beer. He pressed his hand against the door and slowly pushed it open. Two heads swiveled in his direction. He'd found his target.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Daisy re-read Solomon's note. His research into Marcus Matthews wasn’t particularly helpful. Like so many others, the man had been in the police force in Scotland before moving on to work as a PI. Solomon had even discovered Matthews was currently under contract to one of the bigger heir hunting companies. Daisy’s review of his family on the People of Scotland website had shown him to be an only child. Both his parents died a few years ago, leaving him with a few aunts, uncles and cousins. None of the relatives she’d found tied in with her case, as far as she could tell.
Solomon’s note suggested she do some more digging into Maura Sidebottom. She had no idea what help that would be. She'd found Maura easily enough when she'd been looking for Douglas Jameson's heirs, but her brothers had proved to be more elusive. She had both their names, Cameron and Stuart McAlister, but where they lived was a mystery. It wasn't like their names were unique.
Daisy wasn't convinced that Maura's disappearance wasn't just a distraction. The woman was clearly a bit batty, so maybe she'd tossed her own bedroom looking for something and then wandered off with her jewelry case under her arm. Old people did strange things. Daisy's great uncle Tony could never be trusted in public. He had a habit of mistaking things for urinals. The shopping mall near his home had banned him for peeing in their display of fake plants. They might have been a bit more sympathetic if he'd only done it the once, but twice in a week was difficult to explain.
