Chapter 42
Poe got up early. Had breakfast with Estelle. She cooked scrambled eggs, sliced some ham. Poe said he was fine with coffee.
Estelle smiled and said, ‘Yeah, I heard about your “salad”.’
‘It wasn’t my fault,’ Poe protested. ‘There were only three things on the menu. Potted shrimp, mutton, and sticky toffee pudding. The members call the mutton the “Dookers Blue”. I’ve never seen so much meat.’
‘You had an exciting day, then? You’re the first to find the dead man, you’re arrested for the murder of the dead man, and then Alastor Locke takes you to his snooty men-only private members’ club.’
‘Don’t forget the cops at Walworth gave me a Mars bar.’
‘You’ll have to have Esmerée today, Poe. The post-mortem I’m doing is highly sensitive and the senior investigating officer is vetting everyone.’
‘How was she with you?’
Estelle sat down. Started eating her ham and eggs. Poe felt queasy just looking at it.
‘Surprisingly astute,’ she said. ‘Didn’t mess around, didn’t talk back to anyone and did what she was told. She told me she wants to be a pathologist when she grows up.’
Poe grunted. ‘She’ll have to exist first,’ he said.
‘She doesn’t?’
‘Not according to Tilly. Can’t find any record of her. We think it’s her mother who lives as the ghost. Esmerée just took her name.’
‘A ghost by default.’
‘Yup.’
‘Does she know?’
‘She does. Tilly told her.’
‘How did she take it?’
‘Better than I would have. She swore a bit, sulked a bit. Got over it.’
‘I really like her, Poe.’
‘Me too. She’s refreshingly angry.’
‘So were you when we first met.’
‘That’s because I thought my mother had abandoned me as a child.’
Estelle raised an eyebrow. ‘Thought?’
Poe winced as he realised his mistake. He hadn’t told Estelle the truth about what had happened to his mother. He hadn’t told anyone.
She didn’t push it. ‘She reminds me of me too, though,’ she said. ‘You remember I told you how angry my father got when I told him I wanted to be a pathologist?’
‘You didn’t speak for years.’
‘He made it as difficult for me as possible. Removed all my support networks. Cut me off financially. I know our circumstances are vastly different, but this must be how Esmerée has felt all her life. She’s never had anyone on her side before.’
Poe put down his coffee. ‘She does now,’ he said.
Estelle nodded. ‘Yes, she does.’
‘Who’s on what side now?’ Esmerée said, walking into the kitchen bleary-eyed and yawning. ‘And where’s the Till-meister?’
‘Pretending to sleep,’ Poe said. ‘She does it so she can assimilate with the humans.’
Estelle finished her coffee and stood. ‘You’re with Poe today, Esmerée.’
‘Well, that sucks.’
‘Thanks,’ Poe said.
‘Today’s post-mortem comes with caveats,’ Estelle explained. ‘One of which is that everyone in the room must be vetted. I didn’t think you’d want me submitting your name to Northumbria Police.’
Esmerée scowled. ‘You got that right, Doc. I’ll stay here with Brunton and that asshole dog of Poe’s.’
‘You’re coming with me to Carlisle,’ Poe said.
‘Why?’
‘Because my car’s still there. Because that’s where Tilly and I work. And more importantly, yesterday somebody was killed because they were about to tell me something about your mother’s tattoo. The three of us are going to figure out why.’
‘Someone was killed? For real?’
Poe nodded. ‘They were tortured first.’
‘How do you know? Did someone tell you?’
‘It was me who found him. I was then arrested for his murder. That’s why I didn’t get in until late.’
Esmerée was quiet for almost a minute. Poe thought that might have been a record. Eventually she said, ‘What was his name?’
‘Mark Buckby. He was a pornographer.’
‘He’s the jerk who filmed my mom?’
‘Not him,’ Poe said. ‘He identified the man in the film, though. Guy called Chance Ryzcek. He told us about Pure Pulse Productions. That’s the company that filmed your mother. Tilly and I paid them a visit. Threatened a sleazy bastard called Toby Knight until he handed over everything he had—’
‘Poe told a fib,’ Bradshaw said, walking into the room.
‘And you ruined his life playing Captain Kirk,’ he said. ‘Call it a draw?’
‘OK, Poe.’
‘Anyway, as soon as you’d confirmed it was your mother’s tattoo on those photographs, I sent a copy to Mark Buckby. Asked him to circulate it to his seedy pals.’
‘And it got him killed?’
‘Seems so.’
‘Pity it wasn’t that Toby Knight asshole.’
Poe didn’t disagree.