Lost Cause (A Daisy Dunlop Mystery ~ Book 1)

Chapter Three

Daisy stared at the door and then at the clock ticking ominously on the wall. What if Solomon was full of shit and had no intention of coming to her rescue? So much for proving she was capable of being left to her own devices. She'd failed before she'd even begun. Solomon could be on the phone to Paul right now telling him how much danger she'd put herself in. If Paul freaked out she'd have to go back to working in an office.

Unable to sit any longer, she got up and looked around. A bank of filing cabinets stood along one wall. They were labeled, and she hovered at the drawer containing the W's. Would Toby be under W for Wareham or M for Mardon? She grabbed the handle and tugged, but the drawer wouldn't open.

She turned her attention to the desk. The keys must be somewhere. She pulled out all the drawers but found nothing. Papers were sorted in neat piles on the top. Two folders caught her eye. She flipped the first open. It contained planning details for a combined dance with St. Swithin's girls' school. She flipped open the second. Jackpot. Newspaper clippings about Toby's disappearance. How odd. She could take them with her, but what would be the point? She could get them all elsewhere. But the fact the headmaster had them on his desk had to mean something.

She'd tried to open the door already, but there was still the window. She slipped between the desk chair and the huge gaping maw that housed some serious-looking leadlight windows. The stone ledge that acted as the windowsill shone smooth from years of use. In her tight black jeans there was no way she could climb up to reach the window catch without assistance.

She tugged the only piece of furniture she could move to the window, took a deep breath, and climbed up onto the black leather seat. Her spike heels sank deep and she wobbled, grabbing at the window catch to steady herself. The ornate metal handle moved easily, and she squealed with delight. Who needed Solomon? Daisy Dunlop could save herself. After a couple of shoves at the frame, she realized the window opened inward. She pulled it toward her and scooted the chair she was balanced on across the floor to avoid banging the immense frame into her body. A squeal of excitement died on her lips.

"Bars?" The bloody opening was protected by metal bars. Obviously this office was used as a prison on a regular basis. Cool wind circled the room, blowing papers off the desk. Not yet ready to admit defeat, she tugged at the bars. The one in her left hand moved. She shifted her weight on the chair so that she could grip it with two hands. As she gave a great heave the chair spun out from beneath her. Her body slammed hip first into the solid stone wall.

"Ow, flip, for Fred's sake." Feet dangling about two feet from the floor, she had no choice but to give up and let go. She landed heavily and lurched sideways as she fought to balance in her heels. Hands flailing, she grabbed the edge of the desk and steadied herself. Now she was really screwed.

Male voices sounded in the corridor. The grating sound of the key turning in the lock had her scooting across the room in the hope no one would notice she'd been trying to escape. What she needed was something heavy to use to protect herself. She grabbed an owl-shaped metal ink well and balanced, ready to attack.

Mr. Marlborough stepped through the door. Solomon followed.

"Thank God." She dropped the ink well on the floor, threw herself across the room and hugged Solomon like a giant teddy bear. She came to her senses when a deep chuckle sounded in his chest. With a toss of her head she stepped back.

"Missed me did you, Princess?"

She glared at him. He had the bloody cheek to smile and wink at her. Between clenched teeth she spat out, "I didn't miss you at all. I never miss you. And my name's not bloody Princess."

"But you do need me to clean up the mess you've made?"

Daisy desperately wanted to forget her promise to Paul and tell him to fuck off. However she knew Solomon had the upper hand. The momentary pleasure of swearing at him could result in her being left for Maggot Marlborough to deal with and hours pleading her innocence. Without Solomon, her chances of avoiding a ride in a police car were slim. Assuming that was the only fate the ominous-looking headmaster had planned for her. She tugged her leather jacket straight and turned to focus on Mr. Marlborough. "Solomon, perhaps you'd like to tell this man exactly what I was doing here, and then we can be on our way."