Chapter 100
Poe scrolled through his contacts until he found Chance Ryzcek, the ageing porn actor performing under the name Goldie Hardman.
Ryzcek had been open about his scene with Océane Blue.
He hadn’t been able to remember much, but what he had remembered, he’d shared.
Océane had turned up on her own, worn a mask during the scene, collected her money and left immediately.
Transactional.
But this time Poe had a prompt, and more than any other thing, prompts brought new information from witnesses.
They elicited statements like ‘Oh yeah, I remember now – the man who robbed me did have a wooden leg. It was brown and ’is name were scratched on the side.
Looked like it had been done wi’ a penknife. ’
Ryzcek took his time answering. When he did, he sounded wary. ‘Yes?’
‘Chance, it’s Poe. Sorry to call you so late.’
Poe heard him blow out a sigh of relief.
‘Is everything OK, Mr Poe?’ Ryzcek asked. ‘Is it safe for me to go home?’
Poe thought it would be, but he said it wasn’t. The Red Chamber had abducted a fifteen-year-old girl. They were getting desperate, and he didn’t want another death on his hands. Another mutilation.
‘What are you after? I get the impression you’re too busy for social calls.’
‘I have new information on the woman with the foot tattoo, Chance. I’m hoping you can put some meat on the bones.’
‘Go on.’
‘The woman we’re looking for had two tattoos. One on the sole of her foot and a smaller one on her shoulder.’
‘She did.’
‘And you still can’t remember what the smaller tattoo was?’
Poe could almost hear the cogs turning in Ryzcek’s memory.
The guy wanted to help. After an age, he said, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t.
When you’re performing, the director tends to want you looking up.
Sometimes at the ceiling. You know, like you’re in some sort of hedonistic trance.
The only time he wants you looking down is when she’s—’
‘Could it have been a bee?’ Poe cut in, glancing at Bradshaw.
Everyone in the room heard the sharp intake of breath. That had hit home. Ryzcek didn’t say anything, though.
‘Chance?’ Poe said. ‘Did she have a bee tattoo?’
‘Not a bee, Mr Poe; a jar of honey.’
Honey. That fitted. That fitted very well.
‘Yeah, a cartoony thing, like the one Winnie-the-Pooh had,’ Ryzcek continued. ‘Sort of bees’-nest-shaped. And beside it was a honey wand. I remember that, as I called it a spoon and she corrected me.’
Estelle had a honey wand. It was wooden, with a grooved end. Poe preferred a spoon. You got more honey, and they weren’t as difficult to clean.
Poe was about to thank him when Ryzcek started talking again. ‘I’ve remembered something else,’ he said. ‘When we finished our scene, I popped out for a fag. I used to do that. Review my performance, kind of thing.’
‘And?’
‘And I saw her drive away. She ignored me, like we hadn’t … you know … As if the moment the director said it was a wrap was the moment I ceased to exist.’
‘What was she driving?’
‘I never had much use for cars, Mr Poe. Lived in London all my life so never saw the point of them. I know it was small. Thing is, I think there was a bee on the driver’s side. On one of those magnetic signs. You know, the ones you can take off without leaving a mark?’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Yeah, I am. Not just a bee. There was a name and a telephone number too. Looked like the bee was a company logo.’
‘It seems Océane Blue managed to start her honey business after all,’ Poe said after he’d thanked Ryzcek and ended the call.
‘But we don’t have a name for the business and we don’t have any way of finding it out,’ Estelle said. ‘Not within the time frame the people who took Esmerée have set. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.’
Poe glanced at Bradshaw. She nodded.
‘But I know someone with a magnet, Estelle,’ he said.