by JL Simpson
After she'd finished her coffee and had a shower, Daisy planned to go into the office. The painkillers she’d taken were beginning to kick in. Her ankle felt good enough to drive and she could search just as easily there as anywhere else. Besides there were too many distractions at home. She was halfway through a good book and she hadn't watched any daytime TV in ages.
The ominous sound of the “Death March” had Daisy scrambling to find her phone. She pulled it free of the loose change, mints, tissues and other crap that lay buried in the depths of her bag and accepted the call.
“Daisy speaking.”
“Daisy Dunlop. I have something for you.”
“Mr. Fletcher?”
“Indeed. Have you had breakfast?”
“No. Why?”
“Meet me at the Breakfast Nook just off the high street. Do you know it?”
“I know it. What time?”
“Half an hour. And don't forget the money.”
“Okay. See you then.”
Fletch rang off and Daisy stared at her phone. Bloody hell, where was she going to get the money from in the next half-an-hour? She should have asked if he took credit. Daisy tossed her phone back in her bag and got to her feet. There was one way to pay but Solomon wouldn't like it. Not that he cared about doing stuff she didn't like. Her formerly missing car being a case in point.
* * * * *
Solomon stepped inside what had been the front bar of the pub and glanced around the room. There she was and she had the surly long-haired youth with her. She smiled while her male companion glared.
The boy took a step toward Solomon. “What do you want?”
“I want to talk to the lady.”
He snorted with laughter. “You hear that, Erin? This old geezer thinks you're a lady.”
Erin glared at the boy. “Why don't you bugger off, Ian?”
“I thought we were on a date.”
“Don't be stupid. If this was a date, you'd have taken me somewhere nice and bought me flowers and chocolates. Instead, we're in a boarded up building and the only thing you've got on offer is an out of date packet of condoms and a bad case of herpes.”
Solomon couldn't hold back a grin. The girl was magnificent. She'd a rare talent when it came to speaking her mind.
The boy tugged his battered denim jacket off the floor and glared at Erin. “If I got herpes, I got it off you.”
Erin smiled. “Never did. I'd have had to let you do more than touch my tits if I wanted to give you herpes, or a case of genital warts.”
He stomped across the bar and Erin shouted after him. “Oy, where's my ten quid?”
“Your tits aren't worth paying for. My brother's got bigger.”
“That's because your brother eats too much junk food.”
He clenched his fists, shouldering Solomon on his way past before disappearing through the door.
Erin sauntered toward Solomon, swinging her hips like she was on the catwalk in Milan not in some dingy building in Dorset. The light filtering in through the gaps around the boarding gave the room a soft almost romantic feel. Her dress floated around her bare legs. The soft fabric shifted over her thighs as she moved. Despite her age, she'd mastered walking in four-inch platform heels. With the gunk on her face, she looked older than he imagined she was. She insisted she was legally allowed to have sex, so at least sixteen, but if that was true, her birthday couldn't have been that long ago. She stopped in front of him and reached a hand out toward the front of his pants. Solomon grabbed her wrist and smiled at her. She'd been about to prostitute herself to that boy. Now it was Solomon's turn to play the customer, but he wasn't buying what she'd been willing to sell.
“Erin's such a pretty name.”
She smiled at him. “Do you like it?”
“Reminds me of home.”
“Ireland?”
“Why isn't a clever girl like you at school?”
“I left. They've got nothing to teach me.”
“Know it all, do you?”
She shrugged. “I can take care of myself.”
“By selling your very soul to the first man who would offer you money?”
“It's not my soul, and who cares? Lots of girls do it.” She ran her tongue over her lips in a manner that would have been provocative if she weren't a child. “Do you want to buy my soul?”
“I'm in the market for something you might have.”
She grinned, no doubt certain that Solomon was going to part with a fistful of cash to get his hands on her young nubile flesh.
“I'll let you go all the way for fifty quid.”
“All the way?”
“You know. Fuck me. Screw me.” She shoved her chest forward. “I've been saving myself for someone special. Do you want to be my first?”
Solomon shook his head. He had his doubts about her claim to be pure after what he'd heard the night before. It was probably a ploy to charge more money. Not that he'd be buying. “I'm glad to hear that you're a virgin but having a big wallet doesn't make a man special.”
“Are you going to pay me or not?”
“I'm going to offer you a deal. It doesn't involve sex but it does require you to be honest with me.”
“And what do I get in return?”
“The chance to do something with your life.”
She laughed. “Are you my fairy godmother? Have you got a magic wand?” She doubled over in fits of giggles. The sexual reference wasn't lost on him but he'd not respond. Had it been Daisy, he'd have had a suggestive comeback, but he needed to get this girl's mind out of the gutter.
“Have you heard of the pop star, Phat Kitty?”
“’Course I have.”
“What if I told you she's a good friend of mine and I can introduce you?”
“So what? How does meeting a pop star change my life?”
“Meeting her won't but she's started up a dance studio in Poole. I can get you in and see if she can find some work for you.”
“Dancing?”
“I’m thinking you’ll need some lessons for that, but she might have some office work.”
“Office work?”
“I can probably arrange for some classes. Do you not want some money in your pocket and a chance to learn how to dance from the best?”
“What makes you think I want to do dancing?”
“Do you not?”
“Are you serious?”
“Never been more so in my life.”
She frowned. “What's the catch?”
“I need some information about Tomas Jenks.”
“Jack Off?” Erin shivered as the wind picked up, stirring the dust motes on the floor.
“That would be him. Are you hungry, Erin?”
She shrugged. “I could kill for a cup of coffee.”
Solomon pulled off his leather coat and draped it around Erin's shoulders. “Let's go.”
Erin tugged the coat around herself and frowned at him. “Are you sure you don't want to have sex?”
Solomon smiled. “I've never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“Don't you fancy me?”
“You're a pretty girl, Erin, but I belong to another.”
“That woman you were with the other day?”
“Daisy has a special place in my heart.”
“And your bed?”
Solomon smiled. “I'll not be discussing my relationship with Daisy. Now do you want a bite to eat? When we're done, I'll take you to the dance studio and you can tell me what you think.”
Erin shrugged. “I guess I can squeeze you in between appointments.”
Solomon chuckled. She was doing him a favor, bless her heart.
* * * * *
Daisy made her way toward the front of the cafe. She tried hard not to limp. The painkillers she'd taken, along with the bandage, were helping but her ankle still throbbed with each step. Her earlier assessment that it wasn’t as badly injured as she’d thought had been a little optimistic. The street was starting to f
ill up with people hell-bent on shopping, no matter what. A hefty middle-aged woman narrowly avoided taking Daisy out with a body check that wouldn't have been out of place on a rugby pitch. Daisy clutched her handbag tight to her side. Maybe the woman was part of a team of pickpockets. One person to distract her while the other stole her money. The sooner she met Fletch the better. Bad enough she'd accessed the cash without asking Solomon first, she’d better not lose it before she paid for the information she needed.
A bell tinkled as she opened the cafe door. An elderly man glanced up from his iced finger bun. Strange choice for breakfast, but then she'd been known to eat chocolate cake first thing in the morning during periods of great stress, i.e. ever since she'd started working with Solomon. Half of the tables were occupied but no one in the room came close to resembling Fletch.
“Do you want a table?”
Daisy glanced at the chubby redheaded cherub behind the counter. The young lad looked like Cupid on steroids. She guessed he was old enough to have left school, so definitely not a very large toddler, with or without wings and a bow and arrow. Daisy glanced around the room. Fletch must have been held up. She nodded. “Can I sit up the back?”
“You can sit wherever you like.”
Daisy weaved her way through the cafe and flopped into a chair that faced the door. With the wall behind her, and the whole cafe in front of her, there was no way she was going to miss seeing Fletch when he showed up. The young lad sauntered across the cafe with a pad and pen in hand. “What can I get for you?”
Daisy glanced at the menu. “Um, I'll have a latte and a bacon and egg sandwich.”
He wrote her order down and went on his way, collecting dirty plates and cups from an empty table before disappearing through a door behind the counter. The sound of the bell over the front door shifted Daisy's attention. She smiled. Talk about fish out of water. Fletch was dressed like he was on his way to a board meeting or a high society wedding. Cufflinks caught the light, the crisply pressed pants of his pinstriped suit brushed against expensive looking leather wingtips, and the whole get up was topped off with a fedora. Every eye in the cafe appeared to follow him as he made his way across the room. He pulled out the chair across from her, tossed his hat on the table and then ran his fingers through his blonde hair.
“Daisy Dunlop, good to see you again, doll.”
She smiled. He even had the American gangster drawl to go with his getup. “Fletch.”
“Have you got the money?”
Daisy leaned over the table. “Have you got the goods?”
His grin was wide, showcasing a set of Hollywood teeth. They probably cost him more than her entire wardrobe. She'd heard that Americans were obsessed with teeth, and why not, when they could look as good as that. She was no slouch in the dental hygiene department, but her teeth didn't dazzle people when she smiled.
“Okay, we'll do it your way.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out an envelope and placed it on the table. Daisy made a grab for it but he held it in place with his index finger. “Show me the money.”
Daisy snickered. The man thought he was in a Tom Cruise movie. He lowered his eyebrows and frowned. Okay, maybe he was a bigger scarier person than Tom Cruise, not that bigger would be difficult for most men. Daisy opened her bag and pulled out an envelope stuffed full of notes. Daisy slid the envelope next to the one Fletch was still holding in place. She met his gaze. “How do I know your envelope isn't empty?”
He smiled. “You don't.”
Daisy chewed her bottom lip. Could she trust him? Should she trust him? Solomon knew him but that was no guarantee. Solomon knew a lot of dodgy people and she got the impression he wasn’t a big fan of Fletch.
“I don't have all day, Daisy Dunlop. Do you want what I'm selling or not?”
Daisy shoved the money toward him and grabbed his envelope. He tucked the cash into his inside pocket, placed his hat back on his head and got to his feet. “Nice doing business with you. If you need anything more, you'll know where to find me. And I'll be in touch when I need you to do me that favor we talked about.”
Daisy ripped the envelope open and pulled out a wad of papers. She glanced up at Fletch. “Fine, okay and thanks.”
He tipped his hat at her. “My pleasure.”
The bell tinkled, announcing his departure. Not that Daisy was paying attention. She'd hit the mother lode.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Solomon watched as Erin took a sip of her milky coffee. He'd offered breakfast but she'd refused, even when he'd bought himself a bowl of muesli and a fruit salad. She had filched a slice of apple and a couple of grapes and he'd demolished the rest. Now they were about ready to get down to business. His phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. Daisy. He rejected the call and turned his phone off. She'd not take him running off to investigate her case on his own well, and he didn't have time to deal with a tantrum right now.
Erin placed her cup on the table. “Are we going to meet Phat then?”
Solomon had sent Maureen (AKA Phat Kitty) a text to let her know he'd be dropping by with a potential recruit, but he wasn't ready to take Erin to the dance studios. “You've not told me anything about Mr. Jenks.”
She shrugged. “What's to tell?”
Solomon leaned his arms on the table and stared at her. She glanced down at her hands, picking at a nail before looking up and meeting his steely-eyed stare. “How about we start with what you were doing at his house last night.”
* * * * *
Daisy stared at her phone. Seriously. Why on earth hadn't he answered? Where was he? And what was he doing? Gone were the days when she'd send out a cry for help and Solomon would come running like a knight in shining armor to rescue her from the mess she was in, and then give her hell for getting in the mess in the first place. She could be calling because a madman had a gun pointed at her head, or she had been blown up, stabbed, robbed…the list went on and on, but apparently Solomon wasn't rescuing damsels today.
Not that she needed to be rescued, far from it. She was looking for someone to enjoy the big breakthrough on her case with. It looked like she would have to celebrate alone. Daisy swallowed the last of her coffee and pushed to her feet. Her ankle gave a painful twinge. She wasn't in a fit state to go haring off around the country tracking down leads but the information Fletch had given her was a start.
The bell above the shop door jingled as she stepped out onto the pavement. A chilly wind tugged at her curls and lifted her skirt. Spring was struggling to throw off winter's icy grip. She should have worn jeans, but then she would never have got her boots on. They were tight enough now that she’d wrapped a bandage around her ankle without adding a layer of denim. Daisy hobbled back to her car and climbed inside. She tossed her bag onto the passenger seat and contemplated her next move before turning the key and firing up the engine.
The thought of going home and being alone with the dog held no appeal. With a glance over her shoulder, she pulled out into the traffic and made her way through the back streets. After taking a right turn, she pulled into Solomon's parking spot outside the office. Well, that answered her question. Wherever he was, it wasn't here.
Daisy scrambled out of the car and made her way down the stairs to his basement office. She tugged the key out of the front pocket of her bag and let herself in. The place was as eerily quiet as it had been when she’d stopped by on her way to meet Fletch. She flicked on the lights and locked the door behind her. No one would be expecting to find her here so all that left for her to do was see if her secret stash of chocolate was still hidden in the kitchen, and then make a call to Liam before taking her search back to the internet.
* * * * *
Solomon waited patiently for Erin to respond. She twirled the spoon around her empty coffee cup and then gave him a hard look. “I thought I recognized that car. You were the one screwing in the back alley, weren't you?”
“I was in the car in the back alley but I was doing nothing of the sort.”
/>
She smirked at him. “Are you married? Worried your wife might find out about the red-headed tart you were banging last night?”
“Daisy's hair is strawberry blond and we were pretending so that you and your little gang of thugs wouldn't think we were spying on you.”
“You're one hell of an actor.” She smiled, reached beneath the table and fondled his knee. “I'll pretend with you if you like.”
Solomon shifted in his seat, moving his leg out of reach. “What I'd like is to know what you were doing last night.”
“If you really think I was up to no good, why not call the cops?”
“The cops are aware that someone was in the house last night but I've no plans to tell them it was you.”
“What about Danny and Ian? Will you tell them it was Danny and Ian?”
“Do you have any idea what has been going on in that house?”
Erin shrugged. “Might have.”
“This is serious, Erin.”
“So we stole some of the old git's stuff. It's not like he's gonna be missing it.”
“I'm not talking about theft, although we'll be coming back to that. I'm talking about murder.”
The color drained from Erin's face. “I didn't murder anyone. Jenks died in the hospital. Everyone knows that.”
“A man was stabbed in the upstairs bedroom and the police have recovered the body of a man from the attic.” Solomon had waited until he was sure the police had visited the crime scene and removed the body before he called a contact in the force who had served in the military with him to see what the police had found. The roundabout route Solomon had taken to report the crime left him and Daisy well away from being considered as the informants, so his friend hadn't hesitated to tell him the whole sorry tale.
The body was found behind a false wall wrapped in a piece of woolen carpet. They were yet to do an autopsy to confirm the cause of death, but the knife stuck between the man’s ribs was a big clue. The initial findings were that the body had been hidden away for some time, possibly a year but definitely months.
