“Thanks,” she said, unscrewing the lid and taking a big gulp. “That’s better.”
The fresh salt air blew into the car and soothed Kate’s headache.
An earsplitting ringing sound made them both jump.
“Sorry, that’s my hands-free,” said Tristan, turning down the radio volume. He pressed a green button next to the steering wheel to answer.
“Hello?”
“Oh, you’re alive, Miss Marple,” said Ade, his voice booming through the car speakers.
“Sorry, things have been busy,” said Tristan.
“Yes. I was beginning to think you’d been murdered on the Orient Express, or perhaps you were doing something deliciously evil under someone’s son?”
“I’m in the car. With Kate,” said Tristan, looking embarrassed.
“Oh. Sorry. Hello, Kate,” said Ade, putting on something akin to a telephone voice.
“Hi,” Kate replied, grinning. “I like your Agatha Christie puns.”
“Thank you. I had Roger Ackroyd on the tip of my tongue . . . But that’s enough about what I get up to in my spare time.”
Kate laughed.
“I was going to ring you when I got home, Ade,” said Tristan, still sounding a bit embarrassed.
“I think you’ll want to hear this, Miss Mar—Tristan,” he said. There was a pause.
“Well, go on, then,” said Tristan as they reached a huge roundabout and the first traffic they’d seen all morning. They closed their windows against the stink of exhaust fumes.
“Okay, well, I’d best start from the beginning and give you a bit of background . . . Set the scene,” said Ade. Tristan rolled his eyes and mouthed Sorry to Kate. Ade went on, “I was walking past the church hall above Ashdean High Street, and there was an old note stuck to the board outside saying that they’re hosting an evening tomorrow to meet our local MEP. That means Member of the European Parliament, or Euro MP . . .”
“We know what it means,” said Tristan.
“Apparently, this skinny slip of a lass called Caroline Tuset is our local MEP! I was so annoyed that I hadn’t even heard when the European elections were being held, so I got home and jumped online. Did you know they were last year?”
Tristan pulled out of the traffic and went around the huge roundabout, taking the Exeter exit.
“No. But what’s this got to do with anything?” said Tristan.
“I’m coming to that, if you’ll let me, Miss Mar—Tristan. Oh, fuck off. I’m calling you Miss Marple, I’m sure Kate can cope,” said Ade. Kate laughed. “Anyway. I find the EU website, and I discover that I’m not registered to vote, so I do that, and then there’s this page where you can look at all the Euro MPs’ photos, and I wondered what this Caroline Tuset looks like, and if she’s local, cos she sounds a bit French with a name like Tuset . . . And there, two rows up, is George Tomassini.”
“What?” said Tristan.
“That Spanish guy you’ve been looking for. The one who I caught in the back of the car with Noah Huntley. He’s only gone and become a fucking Euro MP!” said Ade. “The only thing is that he’s not George, spelt G-e-o-r-g-e. He’s George, spelt the Spanish way, J-o-r-g-e.”
“So that’s why we didn’t get any hits when we googled him,” said Kate.
“Yes. I remember him from when he was a barman. I do admit that I did lust after him. He’s filled out nicely, but it’s him. He’s the right age—all Euro MPs have their date of birth on their little online profiles, and their place of birth, which I remember was Barcelona. You remember the story I told you about Monsterfat Cowbelly . . . who, incidentally, I got back in contact with. He’s moved to Orkney, of all places, and had his stomach stapled. He looks completely different . . . It even says on Jorge’s CV on the European MP site that he studied in the United Kingdom. I know of many things he studied intently, but I don’t think they involved a classroom.”
“Ade, is there a number we can get in contact with him?” asked Kate.
“Yes, I’ve just emailed a link to Miss Marple. I’m actually really happy that he isn’t dead, and that he’s doing very well, by the look of it. He’s been a Euro MP for five years. He got reelected last year to the Progressive Alliance of Socialists and Democrats, one of the biggest center-left parties in Brussels,” said Ade.
“Ade, that’s brilliant. Thank you,” said Tristan. “I definitely owe you a drink.”