by JL Simpson
Daisy shoved at his chest. “I can buy coffee on my own. I'll even buy one for you, but only if you stay here and talk to Belinda.”
Before either of them could respond, she turned and marched out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Solomon shoved his hands in his pockets, and glared at Daisy as she walked out. The bell jingled as the door closed behind her, and he shifted his attention to Belinda. “Sorry about the other night.”
She let out a soft sigh. “You don't have to apologize.”
“Daisy thinks I do.”
“She's lovely, but I can take care of myself.”
He grimaced. “Daisy's many things, but this time she’s right. I owe you an apology. I am sorry about what happened, but it's best you don't get involved in the shite that's my life right now.”
“Right now?”
Solomon smiled, and then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Daisy's already told you that you can do better. You should take her advice.”
Belinda turned her face and kissed him on the lips, before glancing up at him through her lashes. “I have no more desire to follow any of Daisy’s advice than you do.”
He dropped his focus to Belinda’s cleavage and back to her eyes, before stepping away from the counter. If Belinda kept pushing, he would be hard pressed to resist, but he had a case to solve. “I'd best go and see what mess Daisy is getting me into now.”
Belinda smiled. “Bye, Solomon.”
When he got to the office, Daisy was sat at her desk, sipping coffee. A steaming cardboard mug stood on his desk next to the wire she'd been wearing.
She glanced up. “I have to get going in a minute.”
“Where?”
“I've got a suspect to interview, and I need to pick up Cliff from work before my date.”
“I'll keep you company.”
“Why?”
“No reason.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What don't I know?”
Solomon picked up the wire, and wound up the lead before placing it in his desk drawer. “I've no idea what you don't know.”
“Who's Nobby?”
“Dealer.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What does he have to do with Lisa being locked up? And who's Leo Thompson?”
“I have no idea who Leo Thompson is. I was hoping Nobby would let something slip.”
“About Leo Thompson… What does he have to do with anything anyway?”
“Leo Thompson's dead.”
She slammed her cup down on the desk, sloshing coffee over papers stacked next to her keyboard. “Does Nobby know?”
“I've no idea what Nobby knows.”
“Did he kill him?”
“I don't know that either, but based on the reaction to your mentioning Leo’s name, I'm sure Nobby’s interested to find out what you might know about Leo Thompson.”
“Is that's why I met Nobby? To find out what he knows?”
“Indeed.”
“Why?”
Solomon sipped his coffee. If he didn't tell her, Dan Maloney probably would. “Leo was found in Lisa’s bed, with a bullet hole in his chest.”
The color seeped from her face. “I told Nobby I was meeting Leo at Lisa's house. What if Nobby thinks I shot him?”
“Aye, that was a brilliant stroke of genius on your part.”
“Making myself out to be a murderer to a criminal like Nobby is not brilliant. Oh, my God. Did Dan hear me tell Nobby about Leo?”
“If Dan Maloney thought you had anything to do with the murder, you'd be under arrest by now, and Nobby might know you're not the killer.”
“Good.” Daisy frowned. “Why would Nobby know I'm not the killer?”
“If Nobby killed Leo, then you're just a potential witness instead.” Solomon put his cup on his desk, and smiled.
Daisy put her head in her hands, and groaned. “Oh, that really is great. I'm about to have dinner with a man who thinks I saw him commit murder.”
“Or Nobby could be completely innocent, and just want to take a pretty redhead to dinner.”
She got to her feet, and stomped toward Solomon. “You knew.”
Solomon shoved his seat back as she approached. “I knew what?”
Daisy stood over him with her hands on her hips. “That he might have killed Leo, and that he liked redheads.”
Solomon leaned back in his chair and met her gaze, refusing to be intimidated. “Nobby's the biggest dealer in town right now. Nobby is either the murderer or knows who is.”
Daisy dropped her hands to her sides, and leaned her backside against his desk. “If he was killed in Lisa’s bed, Leo Thompson could have been her lover. She might have shot him, when he got his satisfaction and didn't take care of business for her. Some women hate a selfish lover.”
Solomon raised an eyebrow. “Don't you think a bullet hole in the chest is a bit of an overreaction?”
Daisy snorted. “Sexual frustration can drive a person to almost anything.”
“Does Paul know you have these fantasies about killing men?”
“I'm not talking to you about my sex life with Paul. But if you behave in bed the way you do in other areas of life, I suggest you keep a revolver under your pillow.”
“I've never left a woman wanting.”
“Other than Belinda.”
“Belinda doesn't blame me for what happened. I wasn't the one who put a stop to it.”
“But you’re the one who refuses to restart it. How hard can it be?”
Solomon raised an eyebrow, and Daisy shook her head. She stomped across the room, and grabbed her bag from the desk. “That's not what I meant, and you know it. I've got work to do.”
Solomon followed her, and she stopped and glared at him. “Where are you going?”
“I’m driving.”
“You don't even know where I'm going.”
“The police station.”
“Wrong.”
“Dan Maloney wants to see us.”
Daisy glanced at her watch. “What? Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“You can go and see Dan. I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Daisy sat in a chair at Detective Hasting’s desk, and let out a loud sigh. Dan Maloney had barely said two words to her, since they'd arrived half an hour ago. His desperate need to speak to her had turned into a desperate need to win a pissing contest with Solomon.
They stood toe to toe, arguing about who would supply the wire she'd wear to dinner, and which of them would listen in. Daisy pushed to her feet and crossed the room, to get a better look at the picture of a pale, pudgy faced man stuck in the middle of a whiteboard. Someone had written the name Leo Thompson in large loopy writing underneath. The man looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place him.
“Daisy.” She glanced at Solomon, who continued. “Will you tell your man here that you need me on the case, to protect you?”
“Dan’s not my man.”
Dan grinned in triumph.
“But if Solomon isn't involved, then neither am I. Solomon owes me, and I trust him to watch my back”—Solomon flashed a lopsided smile, and Daisy glared at him—“even if he is the one who put me in danger, in the first place.”
She moved to stand in front of Dan. She folded her arms and held her head high. “We're a team, and it's more than his bollocks are worth, for him to let anything happen to me. You, on the other hand, only want me for information, not to ensure the safety of your manhood.”
Dan’s shoulders slumped. “Fine. Solomon's in.”
“Good. Now that's settled, I have somewhere I need to be. So, if you two are done…”
“Not quite.” Dan grabbed her elbow, and led her back to Hastings’s desk. “There are a few things we need to discuss.”
Daisy shrugged him off. “Can’t this wait?”
Hastings entered the room, a fat brown envelope in his hand. Dan took it off
him and passed it to Daisy. “When we put someone undercover, we usually have weeks to put together a former life and a new identity. We had to use the name you'd already given, and build a profile. You'll find fake ID plus a life story in the envelope. You need to memorize the details.”
She shoved the envelope in her bag. “Fine. I’ve got it.”
“I'll have two men inside the restaurant, in case something happens. Don't look around for them. You'll be wearing a wire, so we can hear you, but we can't risk you having an earpiece. You need an emergency code word. Something you're unlikely to use in everyday conversation, but that you can put into a sentence. Do you want me to choose one for you?”
Daisy shook her head. “I'll think of something, and tell Solomon.”
“Why not now?”
“I need time to think of something that’ll work for me. I can’t be expected to pull something out of my arse on command.”
Dan sighed with apparent exasperation. “Don't mention Leo Thompson, unless Nobby brings him up.”
“So if you don't want to know who killed Leo Thompson, what do you want to know?”
“See if you can get a fix on Nobby’s movements for the next couple of weeks. Word on the street is that Nobby’s transitioning into something bigger and more lucrative than drugs, and is about to take delivery. I want to know when and where the transaction is taking place, and exactly what Nobby is involved in now.”
Daisy checked her watch. She was going to be late, if Dan didn’t shut up and let her go. She walked across the room, Dan following close behind.
“Don't leave the restaurant without Solomon. If you were to end up in Nobby’s bed, you might get more than you bargained for.”
Solomon’s chuckle sounded from behind them. “Or less.”
Daisy swiveled around, and glared at them both. “I'm married, remember? I'm not in the habit of going to bed with strange men. And what do you mean, I might get less than I bargained for?”
Solomon placed a hand on her shoulder. “Nobby's not what you think.”
“An overweight, bald gangster?”
Solomon shook his head. “A man.”
“Nobby's a woman?”
“Nobby, A.K.A. Delia Clark, is working her current sting as a man but underneath she's still all woman.”
Daisy stared at Solomon.. “You're joking me?”
Dan shook his head. “Nope. Best you not mention it though. She would be unhappy to know her cover is blown, and even more disappointed if her henchmen were to find out the truth. .”
“But Nobby's got a tattoo on his forehead.”
Solomon crossed his arms. “I've got a tattoo on my arse. What does that prove?”
“Liar. Your arse is as bare as mine.”
Dan Maloney glared at them both. “Both of you shut up.” He leaned in close to Daisy. “I don’t care whether Solomon has a tattoo on his butt or not, but I do care that you’re ready for tonight’s operation.”
Daisy's face heated. “I’ll be ready. Now, if you'll excuse me.”
She turned, and marched out the door.
Solomon followed. “That's the sort of thing that'll get you in trouble tonight.”
“What sort of thing?”
Solomon lifted an eyebrow. “Opening your mouth without engaging your brain first.”
She glared at him.
He smiled. “I’d no idea you'd taken such an interest in my arse.”
“You want to flash it at me, then I'm going to look. No law against it.”
“Would you say it was a cute arse?”
“It'll be a sore arse in a minute.” She shoved the front door of the police station open, apologizing to a young woman who almost got hit in the face. Eyes front, she strode to the car, ignoring Solomon who chuckled as he kept in step beside her.
He pulled the keys from his pocket, and Daisy snatched them off him. “I'll drive.”
“It's my car.”
“And I'm the one who knows where we're going.”
*
Solomon opened the passenger door of the SUV, ready to climb out.
Still behind the wheel, Daisy grabbed his arm. “Wait.”
He glanced at her. “What are we waiting for?”
“We're not waiting. You are. I'm going in alone.”
Solomon glanced at the dilapidated collection of buildings. “Why would you not want me with you?”
“You're a distraction.”
He smiled, and she punched him in the arm. “Not that sort of distraction. I've earned Mr. Randall's confidence. He's having a hard time, and he doesn't like strangers.”
Solomon nodded toward the side of the house. “Is that why he's hidden himself around the corner, and has the barrel of a shotgun pointing at us?”
“See? He's regressed.”
“So he shot at you when you came last time with Molly?”
“No. No. He had a gun, but he put it down. It wasn't even loaded.”
“And you know that how?”
Daisy shrugged. “It's not important.”
She opened the driver's side door. “He's probably wondering who we are. Last time, I had my own car and Cliff was with me. I won't be long.”
Solomon focused on the side of the building, watching for any sudden movement from Mr. Randall, while Daisy grabbed her bag from the backseat and scrambled out of the vehicle.
Mr. Randall lowered the gun, and came out to meet her. Together they disappeared through a gate, and Solomon climbed from the SUV and followed.
As Solomon watched from behind a rusty tractor, Daisy and Randall stopped outside a large shed. Randall opened the door, and their arrival was met by a chorus of barking. Daisy flinched and grabbed Randall’s arm, only entering when he urged her on. Solomon admired her determination. She was still scared of dogs. This assignment had to be seriously testing her nerves, and yet she refused to quit.
Solomon gave them a couple of minutes, and then crossed to the shed. Windows ran high up along the side wall. He snuck along the building, looking for something to climb on. As he stepped behind the shed, his feet sunk into soft, freshly dug soil. The eight-feet square patch of weed-free garden was at odds with the unkempt state of the rest of the yard. If you were planting flowers, you'd put them somewhere where they could be seen, and a vegetable garden would do better in a sheltered, southerly facing area of ground.
A door slammed, and yelping filled the air. Bollocks. Daisy had to have finished her interrogation and be on her way back to the car. If he didn't hurry, she'd probably leave without him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Daisy waited, while Mr. Randall held the shed door open for her.
“You'll take good care of him?” he asked.
She nodded, and made her way along the path back toward the carpark. “Absolutely.”
“You've got the list I gave you of what he can eat?”
“Yes.”
“And if you have any questions, you'll call me? My number's on the bottom of the sheet.”
“I will.”
The small furry body she held cradled under her jacket shifted, and she smiled. He was so warm. Maybe she should go back and buy another for herself. Or then again, maybe not. Paul wasn't a big fan of pets, and Sherman wouldn’t be impressed, if he had to walk a puppy the size of a small rabbit. It was a shame anything bigger scared her stupid.
She slowed her steps. “Are you going to the dog show in Bristol on the weekend?”
“Why?”
“I thought I might go along, and talk to a few people. Maybe I can uncover who stole Candy’s dog.”
“Waste of time. No one will talk to you.”
“I guess I'll just have to take my chances. Do you know much about the McGuires?”
“What are you asking about them for?”
“Cliff got a job working at their kennels.”
Mr. Randall snorted. “Won’t last.”
“Why? Cliff’s great with animals.”
“Not denying that.”
>
“So why won’t he last? Is there something about them I need to know? Is Cliff in danger?”
“Old man McGuire gets himself into a bit of bother now and again.”
“What sort of bother?”
“Can’t say.”
Daisy frowned. “What about Poppy? She seems like a nice girl.”
“Poppy’s a lovely lass. The kennels is more her idea than her mum's. She wanted to run it with her boyfriend.”
Daisy’s heart beat faster. Cliff had been smitten with Poppy, and she seemed to take him on with little protest. “She’s got a boyfriend?”
Mr. Randall shoved his hands in his pockets, and turned back toward the house. “Not anymore.”
“What happened to him?”
“Disappeared.”
“What do you mean, disappeared?”
He shrugged. “One day he just up and left without saying where he was going.”
“Poor Poppy. Did he leave very long ago? “
“Six months.”
Daisy frowned. “What did he look like?”
Randall shrugged. “Ordinary. Those dark fellas all look the same to me.” He seemed to think for a moment. “Actually, he was a better dressed, better fed, and better spoken version of your Cliff, but with them long dreadlocks.”
“Do you think he had a falling out with Poppy?”
“I don’t know. I do remember that Poppy’s dad was livid. Said he’d lop off his balls, if he ever found him. He told people the boyfriend had run off with Poppy's prize poodle and a whole heap of cash.”
“Another missing dog?”
“Ah, but that one could have sired a champion, not like Candy’s dog. He'd be worth a lot of money to the right person.”
Daisy sighed. “And I figured dog breeding would be such a sedate profession. Instead, it's a hotbed of greed, ambition, and avarice.”
Randall chuckled. “I’m starting to like you, kid.”
“I’m starting to like you too, Mr. Randall.” Rosebud struggled under Daisy’s jacket, and the front of her shirt felt warm and damp. “I’m not sure I like your puppy, though. I think he just peed on me.”
“They have a habit of doing that. You'll need to house train him.”