by JL Simpson
Once King pointed the finger of suspicion in their direction, it would only be a matter of minutes before they would be tracked. Whoever followed would have to take a guess at whether they headed up or down the stairs. Solomon was banking on them assuming they would head down to the ground floor and out into the back alley.
The local constabulary would be quick to react once they got the call. Solomon estimated that they needed to get to the car park and out of the area within the next fifteen minutes if they wanted to escape. Running made them look guilty. Staying would see them embroiled in a murder investigation. Even if Solomon's lawyer did his best work, they'd be lucky to make it out before the end of the requisite twenty-four hour holding period. If his lawyer was off his game, they could be in police custody until Tuesday. If they were going to find Liam Sparks' missing heirs by the close of business Monday, they didn't have time to waste.
Solomon pounded up the last flight of stairs. He dropped Daisy onto her feet and pulled a pen knife from his pocket. The door to the roof was wired into the fire alarm. Once the door was opened, all hell would break loose. The chaos would cause a wonderful distraction, but he daren't take the chance. If the system alerted the security staff which alarm had been triggered, they’d be caught before they ever made it off the roof.
He dropped to his knees and used the knife to undo the screws to the door's control panel. Once he had the cover off, he began the work needed to isolate the door sensor from the rest of the system.
Daisy leaned against his back and peered over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”
Solomon didn't look up from the mess of wires he was busy sorting through. “Trying to get us out of here so that we can solve your bleedin' case.”
She grabbed the door handle. “Why don't you just open the door?”
“Don't!”
*
Daisy shoved the door open. The stairwell was filled with the most ungodly alarm she'd ever heard. Solomon dropped the wires he'd been fiddling with and said something to her. His mouth was moving but she couldn't understand a word he was saying. He looked really pissed off. Maybe opening the door had been the wrong thing to do. But if he'd answered the question she'd asked, what he was doing, instead of the question he wanted to answer, why he was doing it, then they wouldn't be going deaf.
He yelled again but she didn't get it. She shrugged and clapped her hands over her ears to try and deaden the head-splitting shriek that seemed to be getting louder the longer it went on.
Without another word, Solomon threw Daisy back over his shoulder and fled down the stairs. The door to the second floor started to open as they passed by. She flung out her hand and slammed it shut. Solomon sped up. He kicked the door to the ground floor open and sprinted across the foyer before taking a sharp right turn. Police sirens sounded in the distance. Daisy held on tight as he took another sharp turn, ran down a corridor and kicked open a door that opened into a dingy alley. His breathing was ragged and he had slowed considerably in the last few minutes.
He set Daisy on her feet and bent over, sucking in air.
“Solomon?”
He looked up at her.
“What do we do now?”
He straightened up and grabbed her hand. “Now, sore fecking ankle or not, you run, Princess.”
Solomon took off and Daisy clung to his hand as she struggled to keep up. Intent on moving one foot in front of the other, she barely noticed the pain in her ankle. The alley spilled out into a street filled with late afternoon shoppers and kids loitering on their way home from school. He slowed to a walking pace. Daisy fell in step beside him, trying to breathe normally. Two policemen were headed down the street in their direction.
Daisy squeezed Solomon's hand. If he saw the cops, he wasn't saying anything. She whispered out of the side of her mouth. “Do you have a plan?”
Solomon stepped off the curb, and she followed his path through the heavy traffic. He made a quick turn, and Daisy was dragged through the sliding doors into the peace and sanctity of one of her favorite places, M&S. She always imagined heaven would be a lot like a well-run branch of Marks & Spencer. She hesitated for a moment. How was shopping going to save the situation?
She glanced up at Solomon. Despite all the frantic activity earlier, his breathing appeared to be back to normal and he had a gleam of genuine excitement in his eyes. The man must really love to be chased, or to shop.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Daisy waited outside the men's dressing room with her arms full of articles of clothing. Buying disguises was an excellent idea. After trying on a couple of different outfits, Daisy had hers all set to go. She had arrived in M&S in a short skirt and black boots, but she would be exiting in black dress pants. A long blond wig and red coat completed the ensemble. She figured standing out in the crowd would make her invisible. Who would think a woman in a loud coat was running from the police?
Solomon was having a little more trouble. A man was a man, was a man. No matter what he'd tried on, he still looked like Solomon. Even adding a hat didn't change his appearance enough to hide him. If he was a little shorter, he would blend in, but being head and shoulders above the general population would draw the attention of any passing policeman.
Daisy approached the guy who was taking care of the men’s fitting room. He looked up and smiled. She smiled back. “Would it be okay if I went inside to see my husband?”
The man glanced into the changing room and shrugged. “Of course.” He leaned closer. “I think your husband could probably use some help in the fashion department, from what I've seen.” Daisy held back a grin. If only he knew. Of the two of them, Solomon was the clothes horse and she was the fashion victim. But today, Daisy was going to be the one wowing the crowds with her new found look. And Solomon would be sorry he ever trusted her to help him find a better disguise than what he had tried on so far.
She walked down the corridor and tapped on the only closed cubicle door.
Solomon responded. “What is that you want?”
The guy at the front counter was watching her every move. “It's me, darling. Can I come in?”
“I'm not dressed.”
“I know, sweetie. The man tells me you’re having trouble finding something you like. I've got a few things here that might help.”
The lock clunked and the door swung open a crack. Knowing that her idea wouldn't go down well, Daisy took the opportunity and shoved the door open enough for her to step inside. She was relived to discover Solomon was wearing black boxer shorts. He glared at her.
“I don't remember inviting you in. I opened the door so that you could pass me whatever it is you think I should be buying.”
Daisy dumped the clothes she was carrying onto the bench before closing and locking the cubicle door. She stepped closer to Solomon and whispered, “The guy manning the desk thinks we're married.”
Solomon whispered back, “I can't imagine where he got that idea from.”
“Me.”
Solomon smiled. God, he was infuriating. He hadn't been genuinely confused about why someone thought they were a married couple. He was just being a smart arse. They were on the run and he wanted to play games with her. Well, she'd have the last laugh.
“I brought some clothes that might work.” She handed him a green dress. “No one will be looking for two women, and apparently it’s not the first time you’ve worn a dress.”
*
Solomon glared at himself in the mirror. Daisy's idea was stupid but he'd given in to it anyway, if only to stop the heated whispered argument they'd been having. She was sitting on the bench in the corner of the cubicle and he could tell she was holding back her desire to laugh. He looked fecking stupid. They were wasting time. Time they didn't have if they were to get as far away from the museum as they could.
Daisy reached out and straightened the hem. “You look great.”
“I look ridiculous.”
“Try the wig.”
“I know why you're
doing this.”
“The wig.”
Solomon pulled the long black wig onto his head. “Are you happy now?”
Daisy grinned. “Delirious.”
“Now take off your boots and try the shoes.”
He sighed but followed her instructions. How she'd found clothes and shoes to fit him he'd never know, but apparently she'd been determined. Next time he saw Fletch, he was going to rip his balls off.
“Give me a twirl.”
“Go screw yourself.”
“Now, now darling.” Daisy got to her feet and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “That's no way for a lady to behave.”
Solomon looked at himself in the full length mirror. He might just be able to pull off “female” in the revolting green dress, matching jacket and black footless tights but he'd never convince anyone he was a lady.
“It's a good job you shaved today. Put your clothes back on and I'll meet you out the front. Once we've paid, we can go to the cafe and change in the toilets.”
“Why is it that you think you can boss me around all of a sudden?”
“It's my case, remember?”
“And you opened the door and triggered the alarm at the museum, remember?”
“Anyone can make a mistake.”
Solomon tugged at the green linen fabric covering his chest. Bras were implements of torture. He'd worn a shoulder holster for years that was more comfortable. The cotton balls Daisy had used to fill the bleedin' thing were making him itchy, and the tights were squeezing him in all the wrong places. His butt crack would be split to his navel before they were safely out of town. “Mistakes cost lives, Princess. And if anyone recognizes me in this get up, it will cost you yours.”
“Get over yourself. You've worn a dress before. Besides if you really wanted to kill me, you'd have done it for shooting you in the arse. Dressing as a woman can't possibly be that bad.”
Solomon glared at her. “I'd rather be shot any day.”
Daisy gathered up the clothes she was buying, opened the door and stepped outside. “I'll just be here waiting for you. Don't be long.”
He felt like a child, not a grown man capable of making sensible decisions. Although he'd been right out of sensible decisions the day he decided to get involved in helping Daisy out with this case.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Daisy held onto her seat as Solomon careened through the New Forest toward his house. They'd made it safely out of Gloucester. The half-a-dozen policemen in and around the main street where they'd parked made her nervous, but no one had spotted them. A few people had given them funny looks but it wasn't politically correct to say anything about a man who chose to dress as a woman. That very man had tossed his wig aside five minutes ago. Daisy held back a smile. He was in the worst mood she'd ever seen.
She squealed as he sped over a cattle grid, making her bounce in her seat. “Where's the fire?”
“No fire.”
“Do you hate the dress so much that you're willing to kill us in your rush to get home and change? Because it's really not that bad. The color makes your eyes pop.”
“My eyes are doing no such thing” He glared at Daisy. “We need to get some stuff from my house and the office and then get out of here.”
“Where are we going?”
“London.”
Daisy frowned. Of course they were. Graham Harrison's safety deposit box was in London. The sun was fading fast, filling the forest that surrounded Solomon's fortress home with deep shadows. It had been a long day and Daisy wanted a hot shower, a home-cooked dinner, and to curl up in front of the telly. Every muscle in her body ached and Solomon's erratic driving wasn't helping. “Once you've changed, why don't you drop me back at the office so that I can collect my car and we can leave first thing in the morning? The safety deposit box place will be closed for the night by the time we get there.”
“We're not waiting.”
“Why not.”
“I can't say.”
Daisy folded her arms. “Well, then, I can't go. It's my case and I've decided that we'll wait until tomorrow.”
“You'll be doing as you're told.”
“You can't make me.”
“I don't want to force you, Daisy, but you'll be coming with me.”
“Until you tell me why, I'm going nowhere.”
“The police will be on to us.”
Daisy shifted in her seat so that she could see him better. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead, but now that she looked more closely at him, she could see how tense he was. His hands gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white, and he wore an expression of fierce determination. “How will the police be on to us? And even if they are, we didn't do anything. Running makes us look guilty.”
“We already ran, and we are guilty.”
“Of what?”
“Taking evidence from a crime scene.”
“So, we'll hand it back. Besides, why would they bother looking for us when we left the real murderer lying in a fetal position outside the victim’s office?”
“He's not the killer.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Think about it, Princess. Why would the killer return to the scene of the crime?”
“Maybe he forgot something? Greg probably called and disturbed him.”
“Why was he not covered in blood?”
“He was wearing a coat. He could have been dripping in gore underneath.” Daisy shuddered with revulsion.
“Did you see him on the floor? Think back.”
Daisy sighed as she realized what Solomon had seen and she'd missed. “When his coat fell open there was no blood. So who killed Graham Harrison then?”
“As far as the police are concerned, we're the only suspects.”
“Shouldn't we turn ourselves in and clear our names?”
“Do you not want to solve the case?”
Daisy shrugged. Of course she did, but things had gotten out of hand. “It's not worth dying for. I don't want to spend the rest of my life on the run.” She met his gaze. “You do know this isn't a movie, don't you? We don't get to ride off into the sunset with the loot, leaving a swathe of dead people behind us without getting at least questioned by the cops.”
“Daisy, trust me, unless we can get to the bottom of why Graham Harrison is dead and who killed him, we'll be the only suspects the police will focus on. You'll be on trial based on circumstantial evidence, and I'm not sure any good lawyer can get you off.”
His tone was deadly serious. Daisy knew the police would think the worst but the evidence would be flimsy at best. She glanced down at herself. “Why choose us? Do you see any blood?”
“You’ve changed outfits. They'll assume you cleaned up and got rid of your clothes.”
“So we should have stayed and cleared our names then?”
“No, we definitely needed to run.”
She couldn't follow his logic but she could see the fierce determination in his eyes. “What aren't you telling me? I have a right to know.”
*
Solomon took a deep breath. She had a point, but telling her what he knew meant telling her some things about his past he preferred stayed in the past. He glanced at her. From the determined expression on her face and the way she was sitting with her arms folded, he had no choice, unless he wanted to kidnap her and take her to London against her will. “I've seen the man you kneed in the bollocks before.”
Daisy's eyes widened. “You have?”
“I have.”
“So who is he?”
“The man was lurking outside Tomas Jenks' house. He's bad news. Whatever Graham Harrison was involved in, we're not the only people looking for answers.”
“We're looking for Tomas Jenks' sister. Who is he, and what's he looking for?”
“He's a problem solver, and I've no idea what he's looking for.”
Daisy stared at him. “Is he a hit man?”
“No. He's a man you call to clean up a mess. Cover up a c
rime. Bury something so deep, no one will ever find it.”
“So we're running from him, not from the police?”
“He is the police, Princess.”
“The police murdered Graham Harrison?”
“Not exactly.”
Daisy sighed with apparent exasperation. “Are you going to tell me who he is or not?”
“The less you know, the better.”
“The less I know, the less likely it is that we're going to London.”
Solomon slowed to avoid a pony that was taking its time wandering across the road. As much as he didn't want to share with Daisy, he had no choice. “What I'm about to tell you goes no further.”
“Fine.”
“I'm serious. You have to promise me you'll not be telling anyone, not even Paul.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “I promise, now spill.”
“The man used to be in the military police like me and Paul. His skills were put to good use by the Government once he left the army. He had a reputation for being ruthless when it came time to get a suspect to confess.”
“Is he a spy?” Daisy grabbed Solomon's arm. “Oh, my God, were you a spy?”
Solomon shook her off. “Get over yourself, Daisy. I'm not Daniel Craig and this isn't a movie. The man's paid to keep things out of the press. He'll do whatever it takes to protect the Government's reputation.”
“So he's not a spy, but what about you?”
“We're not talking about me, we're talking about the man who wants to hide what really happened to Graham Harrison. I have no doubt he knows exactly why the man's dead, and who killed him. If he wants to hide the truth, what better way than to use a convenient scapegoat?”
“Us?”
“He'll not take on me, but you're a soft target.”
