“He knows everyone, and he’s always said that he’d help us if he can . . .” Kate shrugged and sipped her tea. She didn’t feel hopeful. “What about your friend Ade as a backup?”
“I get the impression that Ade left the police force under a cloud. He sued them for an injury he had at work, and his colleagues were called to testify at the tribunal . . . If nothing comes back from Alan, then I can ask,” said Tristan.
“It’s okay. I get it. I didn’t exactly leave the police force brimming with contacts.”
“Do you want more tea?” asked Tristan.
“Please.” He got up and refilled their mugs from the teapot. “We still need to find Ashley Harris, Joanna’s editor at the West Country News. He could have known what she was writing about, what she was investigating. That could tell us everything . . .”
“And Famke van Noort—if we could talk to her and be secure in her alibi, then we could rule out Fred,” said Tristan, pouring milk in their teas.
“Fuck. I forgot about Fred,” said Kate.
The front door opened, and there were loud voices in the hallway, and laughter.
“That’s Glenn,” said Tristan. Kate could see he wasn’t pleased at the disturbance.
“Tris! You in?” came a voice from the hall. Tristan left the kitchen, and Kate could hear them talking. There was a crash as the living room door hit the wall.
“I’ve got you, keep going straight,” said a male voice.
“Shitter, mind the handlebars on the wall,” said another. Both voices had West Country accents. Kate was surprised to see two very large hairy guys come into the kitchen, pushing a Harley-Davidson motorbike, which was all gleaming chrome with a huge leather seat.
“This is Kate Marshall, my partner in the agency,” said Tristan, appearing at the door behind the two guys. “Kate, this is my housemate, Glenn, and his mate . . .”
“All right, nice to meet you,” said Glenn. He took one of his huge, hairy hands covered in rings off the motorbike and held it out. Kate got up and shook his hand. “This is Shitter. I mean, Will. His real name’s Will.”
Will seemed to be seven feet tall. He had long black hair, and he wore a Guns N’ Roses–style bandanna.
“Hi,” said Kate.
“Nice to meet you, Kate,” he said, smiling amiably. He had two gold front teeth.
“Sorry to interrupt. I’m putting the bike in the backyard,” said Glenn, indicating the kitchen door, which led out into the small backyard. Kate got up and flattened herself against the kitchen wall as Glenn squeezed past her in the tiny kitchen and opened the back door.
“Let’s go in the living room,” said Tristan to Kate. She nodded, picked up their mugs, and squeezed past Glenn.
“How did you end up with the nickname Shitter?” asked Kate.
“I’m really good at poker. I’ve got the best poker face, and I can make people believe any old shit,” he said with a grin.
Kate nodded and couldn’t help laughing.
“Nice to meet you, boys,” she said and went through to the living room. Tristan closed the door. He didn’t look happy. There was a crash and a clatter from the kitchen.
“S’all right, Tris. It was only a teaspoon!” shouted Glenn through the closed door.
“Sorry,” said Tristan to Kate.
“Don’t be. I’ve got our office full of bedsheets and urinal disinfectant,” she said.
“Okay. So how should we approach Noah Huntley?”
“I’ve got an idea, if you don’t mind,” said Kate. “I think you should contact him. Your profile picture comes up in your email, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I think he might be more forthcoming if he thinks he’s going to meet someone as handsome as you, rather than an old trout like me,” said Kate.
Tristan laughed. “Okay. What should I say?”
“I think, be honest—just say that we wanted to talk to him about Joanna and what he knows. Emphasize that you need his help with some questions.”
Tristan nodded. Then the doorbell rang.
“Bloody hell, what now?” He left the room, and when he opened the door, Kate heard Sarah’s voice in the hallway.
“Oh. Hello, Kate,” she said coolly when she came into the living room. She had on her work uniform and a huge carrier bag filled with what looked like runner beans. Tristan came back in behind her.
“Me and Kate are just having a meeting,” he said.
The guys were still talking in the kitchen. There was a big crash and a tinkle of broken glass, and then Glenn said, “Er, Tris. Can you come here, mate?”
“Jesus, what now?” muttered Tristan under his breath, and he went to the kitchen. They heard muffled voices.
“What’s going on there?” asked Sarah. She moved a pile of newspapers and put the bag of runner beans down on the dining table.
“Glenn and his mate, they’re trying to put his motorbike in the backyard.”
“They brought it inside?”
“Yeah.”
“Poor Tristan. I think it’s very stressful for him, having a housemate,” she said pointedly. “How’s work?”
“We’ve got plenty of work, and the cold case is going very well,” said Kate. Sarah nodded. Tristan came back into the living room and shut the kitchen door. Kate could hear the sound of broken glass being swept up.
“They put the front wheel of the bike through the glass on the back door,” he said.
“Did he ask if he could put the bike there?” said Sarah.
“He mentioned it.”
The door opened and Glenn stuck his head out.
“Tris, mate, have you got a first aid kit? Shitter’s just sliced open his knee on the glass . . . Yerite, Sandra,” he added.
“My name’s Sarah.”
Kate’s phone rang, and she saw it was Jake.
“Mum. We’ve got a bit of a problem. Our changeover ladies have just quit,” he said on the other end of the phone.
“Why have they quit?” said Kate.
“They’ve been poached by Brannigan’s Hotel in Ashdean. They’d applied for the job last week.”
“Why did they agree to work for us and then go off to work for Brannigan’s?”
“It’s full-time work at Brannigan’s.”
“Can you find anyone else? We’ve got to get eight caravans ready for Saturday morning.”
“I’m trying, but everyone is looking right now with the summer season so close,” said Jake.
When Kate came off the phone, Sarah was looking at her.
“Trouble at the campsite?” she asked.
Tristan had found the first aid kit and passed it through to the kitchen. “What’s happened at the campsite?” he asked. Kate explained.
“I went on a course last week,” said Sarah. “To have a successful business, you need a charismatic manager who can inspire their team.” She picked up her bag off the table. “I can see this is a bad time. Tris, the runner beans are from Mandy next door. They just need a couple of minutes in salty, boiling water. And remember, you’re coming for lunch on Sunday.”
There was a triumphant look on Sarah’s face as she left the house. Kate had a sudden urge to stick her foot out as she walked by, but she didn’t.
“It’s okay, Kate,” said Tristan when she was gone. “Everything is fixable.”
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