Lost Cause (A Daisy Dunlop Mystery ~ Book 1)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

"Jason knows I'm investigating insurance fraud, but I doubt he thinks I've found out anything useful. My guess is I was brought here because I was asking too many questions about you. My partner Daisy will be very disappointed to discover she had a drink with the infamous missing heir she's been hunting all week. You know your brother has someone posing as you?"

"The whole reward thing was making life difficult. Daisy was the only one who got close, but I couldn't risk being exposed. My superiors called Elliott and filled him in. Told him keeping me hidden was a matter of national security. He probably thinks I'm some kind of secret agent. When he discovers the truth he'll be sadly disappointed."

"Why was he looking for you?"

Toby scratched his stubbly chin. "Loves me, I guess. He never accepted the old man cutting me off. Now the old bastard's dead he wanted me to come back into the family fold and retake my rightful position."

"And you?"

"I thought I wanted to make a difference, which is how I ended up joining the police and becoming Zut."

"But?"

"I've got responsibilities. I could do a lot of good with my inheritance. Help the homeless and the down-and-outs. There's a lot of talent on the streets. Maybe I'll start my own record label."

Solomon sighed. "A veritable Simon Cowell."

* * * *

Daisy couldn't bring herself to move. Bum in the air, head in her hands, she considered what to do next. Solomon would know.

"Excuse me."

She squealed and looked over her shoulder. A man in a tatty, stained overcoat and squashed fedora smiled, flashing more gum than teeth. "Are you all right, miss?"

Daisy climbed to her feet, swaying as blood rushed from her head. "Fine."

The stranger grabbed her arm and steadied her. "Thought you might be hurt."

"No, I was looking for something. I lost it the other day."

"I might be able to help."

Daisy sighed. "I'm not sure anyone can help but thanks anyway."

He moved closer, his whiskey-scented breath filled her nose. "No one sees me, but I see a lot of things around here."

"Really?" The poor old sod could be the man using the staircase as a urinal. He probably called the car park home. She hunted through her bag and pulled out her purse. "Why don't I give you something for your kindness?"

"A cup of tea?"

"Sure." She took a fiver out of her purse and offered it to him. He shoved her hand away.

"I'm not looking for a handout. I want you to have a cup of tea with me. Don't get to talk to pretty girls very often anymore."

"I would love to, but I really have to get going."

"What were you looking for?"

"A phone. I guess I must have left it somewhere else."

He smiled. "Cup a tea and I might be able to scare up your missing phone."

He could be full of bullshit, but he was the only hope she had. Besides, she'd skipped breakfast and could murder a cup of tea and a sticky bun. She smiled back and nodded. "Sure, why not. I know a great café around the corner that does a great bacon sarnie."

"Elvis." He held out his dirty hand.

"Daisy." She shook his hand and offered no objection when he linked arms with her and led the way to the stairs.