by JL Simpson
“I don't know anything about a body.”
“I'm not suggesting you do. I am suggesting you tell me what you took from his house and where I can find it.”
“Are you going to call the cops?”
Solomon shook his head. “No, I'm going to introduce you to Phat Kitty like I promised, and then I am going to retrieve Mr. Jenks’ possessions.”
“Are you sure you're not in the police?”
“Positive. I'm a private investigator looking into Mr. Jenks' background to try and find his family. Give me your phone.” Erin tugged a brand new iPhone from her pocket and shoved it across the table at him. Solomon added his name and number. “Now if you think of anything later, or need me for anything, give me a call.” Erin smiled and Solomon shook his head. “Anything other than sex.”
Erin took the phone back and shoved it in her pocket. She folded her hands on the table and met his gaze. “So, what do you want to know?”
“What did you take?”
“Laptop. Printer. A couple of mobile phones and an iPad.”
“And where will I be finding all this stuff?”
“Danny and Ian took them to a dealer who lives on the edge of the estate.”
“A dealer?”
Erin chewed her thumb nail. “You know a drug dealer. He accepted the goods in exchange for some pot.”
“Pot?”
“Yeah. Pot, weed, you know, marijuana.”
“You've not got a drug problem, have you? Because if you have Phat's husband will sort you out a rehab program.”
Erin giggled. “You're so uptight. Just because I've had a few drags on a joint that doesn't make me an addict.”
Solomon frowned. He'd been no saint as a teenager but drugs had never featured in his life. The army had been the best thing to happen to him. Nothing else had been able to straighten him out and get him back on track. He considered suggesting Erin sign up but thought better of it. Paying for her to have dancing lessons was one thing; suggesting she leave her life behind and join the military at the tender age of sixteen was something else. Besides, Maureen's husband, Toby, knew a thing or two about drugs. If Erin had gotten into the stuff, he'd spot it and sort her out. Toby despised drugs and the people who preyed on the weak by selling them the stuff to feed their habit. “Where will I find this dealer and how will I recognize him?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Daisy snapped another row off the bar of chocolate and shoved it in her mouth before taking a sip of the glass of fruity chardonnay she’d found in Solomon's fridge. It was a bit early in the day, but one glass couldn't hurt. Besides, she was celebrating. She lifted the hot pink highlighter off the desk and circled another line on the bank statement. Not only had Fletch found out where Tomas Jenks was transferring funds, he’d delivered bank statements for the mystery account for the last twelve months. Even in her wildest dreams, she would never have imagined what she would discover. Tomas Jenks had been transferring money to an account held by Maura's brother, Cameron.
The address on Cameron’s statements was a PO Box in Bournemouth. He must live close by. Every month, Tomas Jenks paid the money across and then every month direct debits, transfers and withdrawals emptied Cameron's account until it started all over again. Daisy got to her feet and crossed to the whiteboard. She lifted a marker and added Cameron's name. There was definitely a connection between Maura Sidebottom and Tomas Jenks. The old guys at the British Legion had insisted that Jenks was Scottish and had been stationed in Maidstone. That led Solomon to the belief he'd served in the Royal Engineers. Had Cameron served with him? Was that the connection? Or did it go back further to when they were all living in Scotland? Tomas had moved close to Maura for a reason. She needed to track down Cameron. He'd know what was going on.
The sound of Daisy's ringtone shifted her attention to her desk. She crossed the room and checked caller ID before answering.
“Daisy Dunlop.”
“Hi, Daisy. It's Liam Sparks. I was wondering if you'd made any progress.”
Daisy sat on the edge of her desk and took the weight off her sore ankle. “There have been some developments.”
“Like the ones the police just interviewed me about.”
“What ones were they?”
Liam sighed. “Did you have any idea about the body?”
“Which one?”
“So you knew there was another one.”
“Another one?”
“Other than the one that was stabbed in the back bedroom.”
Daisy tried to sound shocked. “There was?”
“I don't care. I really don't care. It's not my problem. I just want to know who Tomas Jenks' sister is so that I can close the file and move on.”
“His sister.”
“That's what I'm paying you for. So, have you got a name and address?”
“Almost. I need a few more days.”
“Will you have one by Monday?”
Daisy glanced at the whiteboard. The answer was there somewhere. “Yes. Absolutely. You can rely on me.”
“And I won't be getting any more calls from the police about murder victims?”
“Not that I know about.”
“I guess that's the best I can hope for. Okay. So I'll hear from you on Monday.”
Liam rang off and Daisy dropped the phone in her bag. Now what? She had two more days. There was no way Cameron's bank was going to tell her where he lived, but maybe if she phoned around some of the other places that were paid by direct debit every month, she would have more luck.
* * * * *
Solomon had left Erin in Maureen's capable hands. They'd both been cooing over Maureen's new baby son when he left. Not only was Erin getting the dancing lessons he was paying for, but Maureen had offered her some part-time office work at the studio. He would call later and thank her for helping Erin out. She would say it was the least she could do after he helped save Toby's life, but the truth was Toby had helped save Solomon. Either way, he couldn't afford to keep dumping strays on her if she was going to make a success of her business. She was a musician and performer, not a charity.
The rain had eased off and the sun was trying its best to escape from behind the dark clouds overhead. Solomon barely noticed the scenery as he sped over the Poole Bridge and back toward Hamworthy. If he was in luck, the dealer would still have all of Jenks' stuff and Solomon would be able to buy it back. It made him sick to his stomach to give cash to a lowlife who made his living by feeding off the weakness of others, but they needed to start getting some answers or Daisy would never be able to solve the case.
He'd not yet returned her call. Once he had something positive to report, he'd follow her up. He'd taken on Daisy's case to convince her to call Belinda and ask her why she'd run away, but he'd barely even thought about his wayward girlfriend all week. Maybe working with Daisy was the cure to whatever lovesick ailment he'd been suffering, or maybe Daisy was an ailment all on her own. Lurching from crisis to crisis with Daisy left little room for anything else in his life.
The address Erin had given him was vague at best. She knew the street and had described the house. Solomon slowed as he turned the last corner. A man climbed into a beaten up old Toyota and sped past in the opposite direction. Every house looked old, tired and in need of some TLC. All the cars parked out the front were much the same, except one. Why the cops hadn't arrested the guy was a mystery. A brand new BMW wasn't something you could save up for when you were on unemployment benefits.
Solomon drove to the end of the street and pulled into the curb. After carefully locking his SUV, he walked back the way he'd just driven. The door to number 27 opened and a man scurried down the path, almost bumping into Solomon as he hurried away, hands buried deep in his coat pockets. So, Erin's man was currently doing business. Solomon stopped outside the front door and gave a sharp rap with his knuckles. Footsteps sounded inside, the door swung open, and Erin’s companion from earlier stared back at him. Either Erin had just played him fo
r a fool, or Ian was into more than messing around with girls and stealing from empty houses.
The young lout’s glare turned dark and angry. Solomon smiled. “So, we meet again.”
“Piss off.”
“Is the main man in?”
A male voice yelled from deeper in the house. “Who is it, Ian?”
“No one.”
Solomon smiled. “How about we do a deal, Ian? You let me in to talk to your friend and I'll not be telling the cops you've been stealing evidence from Tomas Jenks' house.”
“Whatever Erin's been telling you, she's a fucking liar.”
“No doubt. However, whether she was telling the truth or not, I’ve a mind that your friend here wouldn’t like the police coming around to ask questions.”
A tall thin weed of a man with dark shoulder-length hair peered over Ian's shoulder. “What did you say about the police?”
“I was just telling Ian, I believe you have a computer, some phones and an iPad that belonged to Mr. Jenks. I'd be happy to take them off your hands. It would be unfortunate if the police came looking for them. They're a mite touchy about people stealing evidence from a murder scene.”
The man stared at Ian. “You never said it was from Jenks'.”
“You never wanted to know.” Ian smiled at Solomon. “Don't matter anyway. We ain’t got them anymore.”
“I'll make it worth your while.”
The weedy man stared at Solomon. “Are you a cop?”
“If I were, would I not be searching the place instead of standing here trying to do a deal?”
“How much?”
“I'll not be paying anything until I know you have the goods.”
“Three thousand and I'll give you a call when they're ready to be collected.”
“I thought Ian said you didn't have them anymore?”
“Do you want them or not?”
Solomon leaned against the door frame and stared at the skinny little shite. “If you've a mind to sell me something other than Tomas Jenks' computer and phones, I'd advise against it. I'm not one to take being ripped off well.”
The man grinned, flashing a beautiful set of teeth. “I'm not scared of you.”
Solomon smiled. “Are you not? Well then, you've nothing to fear.”
“You don't scare me.”
“So you said.” Solomon tugged a business card out of his inside pocket and handed it to the man. “I don't believe I caught your name.”
“I didn't give it. I'll be in touch. Oh—and I only take cash.”
Solomon shook his head. “Of course you do.”
The door slammed in his face. That had gone well. He turned and walked back toward his SUV. It was almost lunchtime. He'd could sit and watch the house and see where they went, but he'd a mind that would be a waste of time. Whatever they were planning on selling him, he doubted it belonged to Mr. Jenks.
* * * * *
Daisy lifted the wine bottle and gave it a shake. Bugger. Who'd drunk all the wine? She let out a sigh and rested her head on the desk. The throb in her ankle was getting worse and no one wanted to talk to her. Why was everyone so hung up on privacy? Would it really hurt the electricity company to tell her where the hell Cameron McAlister was living? Even when she told them he'd come into an inheritance, they didn't care. She'd retried the free search of the electoral roll but no one named Cameron McAlister lived anywhere close to Bournemouth.
The one person who would know where Cameron was had gone missing. Unless the police had found Maura. Not that she planned to ring them up and ask. She could drive out to see if she was home. Daisy lifted the empty wine bottle and dumped it in the rubbish bin under her desk. Until she sobered up a bit, she was stuck in the office. She let out a loud sigh. Nothing was going right. Her case was no closer to being solved, and she’d given herself a full blown case of performance anxiety in the bedroom. There was one thing she could get right. Daisy rummaged in her bag for her phone. She could fix Solomon's love life.
After scrolling through her contacts and swiping Belinda's number, Daisy leaned back in her chair and rested her feet on the desk. She could see why Solomon sat in that position; it was very comfortable. The phone rang three, four, five times and just when Daisy thought Belinda wasn't going to answer her very British voice sounded in Daisy's ear. “Hello. Belinda speaking”
“Belinda. It's me, Daisy.”
Belinda laughed. “I know, silly. I've got you saved in my contacts.”
“How's the holiday?”
“Gosh, it's brilliant. Wonderful.”
“When are you coming back?”
“Are you missing me?”
Daisy smiled. “I am.” She was. They might be from different ends of the social scale, but Belinda was always ready for a coffee and a chat, and no matter what stupid ideas Daisy came up with, Belinda always went along with them. Getting into trouble was more fun with Belinda.
“Did you call to beg me to come home?”
“Sort of. Belinda?”
“What?”
“Why are you hiding in France?”
“If I was hiding, I wouldn't be talking to you, would I?”
“You won't talk to Solomon.”
“He hasn't called.”
“He says he has.”
“Okay, fine. He hasn't called me in ages.”
“Probably because you won't answer.”
“Touché, old bean.”
“Did something happen? Was he mean to you?”
“Gosh, no. He was frightfully nice.”
“Nice. Is that code for, ‘rubbish between the sheets?’ ”
Belinda laughed. “Not at all. The man is a master in the bedchamber.”
Daisy sat up straight. Surely not. “He likes to tie you up? Does he spank you?”
“No. Blimey. No nothing like that. I just mean he's good at what he does. He knows his way around.”
“That's because he's been around. If he’s that great in bed, why are you in France? If it was me and Paul, I would only be overseas if we'd booked a romantic holiday together and were bonking like mad bunny rabbits all over our expensive hotel room. Is that the problem? Is he not romantic? Does he only want you for sex? Not that I'd complain. Good sex is hard to get these days.”
“Daisy. Are you feeling all right?”
Daisy closed her eyes. “Yes. No. No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I wanted to set Sherman a good example so I banned Paul from having sex with me.”
“What? You’re not having sex?”
“I tried to this morning but Sherman and his friend Ben were downstairs and I freaked out. What if I can’t do it when Sherman’s home? He doesn’t go out that often.”
“Sex is like riding a horse. Maybe if you take it slow. Wait a few days until you’re really in the mood. Send Sherman away for the night and then focus on Paul. Once you’ve got back in the saddle, you’ll be fine.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you need to get your relationship with Solomon back on track?”
“Solomon's not the problem.”
“Then who is?”
“Can I trust you?”
“Absolutely.”
“I'm not looking to become a wife and mother. I thought Solomon was on the same page. Great sex, lots of great, great sex.”
“I get the picture. The man is a sex machine, but?”
“He got all serious on me. Talked about us moving in together.”
“Solomon?”
“Yes.”
“Belinda, you have to talk to him. He's lost without you. For God's sake, put the poor man out of his misery.”
Belinda sighed. “I'm a coward. Can you do it for me?”
“No, absolutely not.”
“Okay, fine. I'll call him and explain.”
The door to the office swung open and Daisy jumped. “Got to go. Thanks. Bye.”
She ended the call before Belinda had a chance
to reply. Solomon stood in the doorway. “Who were you talking to?”
Daisy shrugged. “No one.”
“How did you get here?”
Interrogator Solomon was in the house. He knew how she'd gotten there. Her car was parked in his space. The car he'd stolen and returned to her. She'd forgotten all about that in the excitement of the day, but he wasn't off the hook. “I hired the space shuttle.”
“Can you take your feet off the desk?”
“Why? Are you worried I might scuff the top?”
“No. I'm worried that as long as you sit like that with a skirt on, I might not be able to contain myself.”
Daisy smiled and leaned farther back. “Maybe I don't want you to contain yourself.”
Solomon slammed the door and glared at her. “Have you been drinking?”
“Have you?”
“No, I've been working on your case.”
“So have I.”
“Good.”
He threw his coat over the back of his chair and loosened his tie. Daisy twirled a curl of hair around her finger. “Solomon.”
He glanced at her and then looked away.
“I think we need to talk about the elephant in the room.”
Solomon chuckled. “I know it's big, Princess, but I'd not be calling it an elephant.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “I was talking about you stealing my car.”
“What car?”
“The one currently parked in your space.”
Solomon frowned. “I'm parked in my space, Princess.”
Daisy leapt from her chair and half-hopped, half-hobbled to the office door. She flung it open. Her beautiful hatchback was where she'd left it. She turned and glared at Solomon. “Why did you lie about my car?”
Solomon leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Because I knew it would make you take your feet off the desk.”
“Do my nether regions bother you that much?”
He chuckled and then looked serious. “You've no idea, darlin'.”
