Chapter 99
Via Greta, Kai told them that Océane Blue’s real name was Brandy Calhoun.
That she was from Wheeler County in Georgia, one of the poorest counties in one of the poorest states in America.
She had grown up on a trailer park. Her stepfather had abused her; her mother had turned a blind eye.
She’d been a virgin when she applied to become a Red Chamber concubine, but only because her alcoholic stepfather hadn’t been able to perform.
When she was fifteen years old, she’d fled Georgia.
She later heard that her mother and stepfather had died when their trailer caught fire.
Kai said he wondered if Océane had started the fire by way of a leaving present.
Poe made a note to check. She wound up in North Dakota, and this was where her love of honey, bees and beekeeping had begun.
Esmerée had mentioned her mother’s love of honey a couple of times, Poe thought.
Bradshaw chipped in at this point. She said that North Dakota was the USA’s honey capital, producing double the amount of California, their nearest rival. She said it was because it had the right climate. That the state’s warm days and cool nights were optimal for nectar secretion.
Océane had odd-jobbed for a family-run honey producer.
She had learned the trade. The family had brought her into their home, let her stay in a spare room.
At night, they’d eaten together. They didn’t have a television; the family patriarch thought the signals were bad for the bees.
Instead, they read. Océane had never read a book that hadn’t been assigned to her at school, but she discovered a love for it.
Loved immersing herself in different worlds.
For her birthday, she was gifted the complete collection of Sherlock Holmes.
Kai explained that when she’d read ‘His Last Bow’ and discovered that Sherlock Holmes had retired to a farm on the South Downs to keep bees and read books, it was like an epiphany.
A calling. It became her obsession. Every move she made from that point was to achieve her singular goal of moving to England and buying a farm on the South Downs.
Of keeping bees and winning awards for her honey.
Before she did anything, she would ask herself one question: does this bring me nearer my goal?
Her contract with the Red Chamber. The courses she took while Vincent du Buk was her benefactor.
The books she read. The business trips to England that she accompanied du Buk on.
Poe wondered how a daughter fitted into Océane’s honey empire, but he didn’t voice his question. Kai wouldn’t know, and he’d dumped enough emotional baggage on his shoulders to last ten lifetimes.
He asked a succession of questions, each designed to get to the bottom of who Océane Blue was.
Poe knew that in missing persons cases, the more you knew about the person the better.
But in this case, he thought he’d already hit the motherlode.
Océane didn’t seem to have had any friends.
All her relationships had been transactional.
She hadn’t cared about anyone. Again, he wanted to ask where a daughter had fitted into her masterplan, but again he refrained.
But he thought about it. He thought about it a lot.
And then he thought about something Esmerée had said. Something she had wanted them to do.
He ended the call with Kai and Greta and accessed his contacts.