Chapter 23
‘So you’re not Old Bill?’ Ryzcek said again.
‘I’ve told you three times I’m not,’ Poe replied. ‘I’ve given you my business card, which clearly states I’m a private investigator, and I’ve given you a number if you want to check my credentials. I don’t know what else I can do.’
Ryzcek looked at the business card again. ‘Actually, it says “gumshoe for hire”, not private investigator.’
‘It’s the same thing.’
Chance Ryzcek looked like a slightly overweight Peter Stringfellow. He was a few inches shorter than Poe. He wore the same wig he’d worn in the movie with Esmerée’s mother. Bouffant style, Poe thought it was called. His face was lined and craggy, but otherwise he wore his age well.
They had moved off the street and into Ryzcek’s neat and tidy two-up, two-down mid-terrace house.
It was small, but all houses in London were small.
And they were packed together tighter than books on a bookcase.
Ryzcek had gone upstairs to get out of his work clothes and had come down wearing a pair of shorts and a white T-shirt.
They were now in his kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil.
Ryzcek was having instant coffee, Poe was having tea. Bradshaw said she didn’t want anything.
‘Can you prove you’re not cops?’ Ryzcek said.
‘Can we prove a negative? No, we can’t. No one can.’
‘I heard someone’s been asking about me.’
Poe stuck his hand in the air. ‘Me,’ he said. ‘And now I’d like to know why you think I might be a cop. Have you broken the law?’
Ryzcek didn’t immediately answer. After a while, he said, ‘Who the bleeding hell knows?’
‘Tell me,’ Poe said.
The kettle steamed and clicked off. As Ryzcek busied himself making their drinks, he said, ‘You know what I do? What I did?’
‘It’s why we’re here.’
‘Well, like every industry, porn’s had its problems, Mr Poe.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘And like every industry, it’s the employees who most often end up as collateral damage.
Back in the day, some of the women lied about their age.
Said they were eighteen when they were seventeen.
Seventeen when they were fifteen. You may have read about it in the States.
Traci Lords, one of the biggest names in the business, got work with a fake birth certificate.
Did over a hundred films before she was legal.
Loads of male actors ended up getting arrested for having sex with a child.
All her films had to be destroyed. Cost the industry millions of dollars.
That’s why I thought you might have been Old Bill.
Those of us who have been in the game long enough are always expecting a knock on the door. ’
‘We’re not here about that, Mr Ryzcek,’ Poe said. ‘But we are here about one of your films.’
Ryzcek sighed. ‘Wow, what are the odds?’ He put their mugs on a tray with a plate of ginger nuts and walked into the lounge. He placed the tray on the coffee table and gestured at the sofa. Poe and Bradshaw sat. Ryzcek took the armchair.
‘I’ve been in a lot of films, Mr Poe. I’ve forgotten most of them. Some weren’t even released.’
Poe stopped himself from saying, ‘You’ll remember this one.’ The truth was, there was no reason why Ryzcek would remember this film. It was pretty ordinary. No reason for it to stay in his memory.
‘You must think I had the best job in the world,’ Ryzcek said.
‘I don’t,’ Poe said.
‘And I think it’s absolutely disgusting,’ Bradshaw said.
But Ryzcek hadn’t heard them. He stared into space, looked wistful. ‘You probably think that having sex with some of the most desirable, open-minded, flexible women in the world on an almost daily basis is the ultimate male fantasy.’
‘I don’t think any of that.’
‘Oh. What do you think?’
‘I think that unless you made money, real money, from pornography – and as you deep-fry factory-farmed chicken for a living, I’m guessing you didn’t – you were being exploited almost as much as the women.’
Ryzcek nodded. He picked up his coffee and blew on it.
He took a sip and put it back on the tray.
‘Porn has taken everything from me, Mr Poe,’ he said.
‘And it’s given me nothing in return. It’s ruined every relationship I’ve ever had.
I can’t even form relationships now; not unless she comes with instructions and a valve.
I’m a qualified architect, but I have never had a job in architecture.
Every time I get through to the interview stage, it’s “thanks, but no thanks”.
Someone always finds out what I did, what I do. Did you know I have a daughter?’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Yeah, Simone. She’s in her twenties now. Since she was eleven, she’s told people I’m dead. She actually denies my existence. Won’t even accept what little money I can send her way. And the thing is, I don’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, I’d deny my existence.’
‘Then why do it?’
‘Because it’s a trap,’ he said. ‘When you’re a young geezer, it’s all bells and whistles.
You party hard, as many women and as much powder as you want.
By the time you realise you want something else, it’s too late.
There is nothing else. Not for you. And once the industry realises you have nowhere to go, you get less and less money for more and more work.
You get the jobs others turn down. The extreme stuff.
Bondage. Gang bangs. Amputees. Rimming. Old people. ’
‘What’s rimming, Mr Ryzcek?’ Bradshaw asked.
‘It’s when someone—’
‘Do not finish that sentence!’ Poe said.
Ryzcek said, ‘Sorry.’
‘What about women in masks?’
‘Of course.’
Poe unfolded his printed screenshot. He pointed at the naked guy. ‘Is this you?’
Ryzcek picked it up. Studied it. Nodded. ‘That’s me.’
‘We’re looking for the woman.’
‘Who is she to you?’ he asked carefully.
Poe said nothing.
Ryzcek gave him a look. ‘Don’t tell me, a distant relative of hers has died and she’s set to inherit a fortune.’
‘Nothing like that.’
‘Then what?’ he said sharply.
Poe took a risk. He hadn’t intended to mention Esmerée.
He thought the fewer people who knew about her the better.
But for some reason he liked Ryzcek. He’d made a mess of his life, but it kind of wasn’t his fault.
He’d been suckered into an industry that considered him a disposable asset.
If he didn’t turn up on set one day, no one would go looking for him.
They’d just move on to the next idiot who couldn’t see two years into the future.
‘I’ve been hired by a young girl, Mr Ryzcek. She wants me to find her mother. We believe the woman you filmed this scene with is her mother.’
‘Seriously? This isn’t just some messed-up psychological manipulation because of what I told you about my daughter?’
‘I can get her on the phone if you want,’ Poe said. ‘Although I have to warn you, I don’t think she likes you very much.’
‘She doesn’t, Poe,’ Bradshaw said. ‘She described Mr Ryzcek as a “senile lardass”. Do you remember?’
‘I do, Tilly.’ He caught Ryzcek’s eye. ‘Tilly says the things others won’t.’ He paused a beat. ‘I’m sure that has value.’
Ryzcek patted his stomach. ‘I am carrying a bit of timber,’ he said. ‘And if I was having sex with her mother, perhaps it’s better if I don’t speak to her.’
‘Tell me what you know, Mr Ryzcek,’ Poe said. ‘When you saw that picture, you weren’t surprised. It was almost as if you’d been expecting someone to come looking.’
Ryzcek held his eye. Didn’t look away. Didn’t blink. Eventually he said, ‘I’ve been expecting someone for a long time, Mr Poe.’