Page 129 of The Killer’s Mark

‘You don’t care?’ he repeated woodenly.

‘Why would I?’ Océane Blue said, opening the door. ‘That little bitch ruined everything. I hope she rots in hell.’

Chapter 105

Chance Ryzcek had said that Océane Blue was the most attractive woman he’d ever performed with. Said that she should have been an actor or a supermodel. He’d said she was wasted doing porn. That she had a beauty that transcended what she’d been doing. Poe hadn’t understood that last bit. He did now. If anything, Ryzcek had been underplaying Océane’s beauty. Even during the early hours, with bed hair, no make-up and sleep in the corner of her eyes, she was bewitching. She had the timeless beauty of Audrey Hepburn and the raw sexuality of Marilyn Monroe. The presence of Elizabeth Taylor and the regal elegance of Grace Kelly. She was wearing a ratty dressing gown and making it look like a Vivienne Westwood. Her hair was sealskin black, her face unnaturally white. Her harsh red lips were the colour of cherries. She studied them, a cold and disinterested smile playing across her lips.

Poe and Towler both took a step back. If you’d asked either of them why, Poe reckoned they’d be hard pressed to explain. It was almost as if they didn’t feel worthy to stand in her presence. Like she was some sort of Greek goddess.

Towler broke the spell by saying, ‘Well, I wouldn’t climb over her to get to you, Poe.’

Océane looked down her nose at him. It was as if he barely existed.

Poe cleared his throat and tried to clear his mind. He decided to start again. ‘Like I said, my name is Washington Poe and this is my colleague Matt Towler. I’m a private investigator and I was hired by your daughter to track you down.’

‘Good for you.’

‘Do you want to know how she even knew you were in the UK?’

‘No.’

Towler smirked. ‘She saw you—’

‘She saw you performing in a film,’ Poe said, cutting him a look. ‘And recognised the tattoo on the sole of your foot.’

Océane didn’t respond. Didn’t even look interested. She certainly didn’t look embarrassed.

Poe continued regardless. ‘That led me to the guy you performed with. His name is Chance Ryzcek, although you’ll remember him by his stage name: Goldie Hardman.’

‘I never remember their names, Mr Poe.’

At least she was talking, Poe thought. ‘Nevertheless, from Chance Ryzcek we found Pure Pulse Productions and from them we found a decent photograph of your foot tattoo. I showed it around and—’

‘What do you mean, you showed it around?’

For the first time, she looked worried. Self-preservation kicking in.

‘It was one of the lighting photographs. They’re the ones taken—’

‘I know what lighting photographs are. Who did you show it to?’

‘One of my contacts. A friend of his recognised the tattoo.’

‘I wish you hadn’t done that.’

‘Given what happened subsequently, so do I. This person said the tattoo shouldn’t exist, which didn’t make sense. It scared him. In fact, it scared him so much he arranged to leave London the very next day.’ Poe paused a beat. ‘He didn’t make it. Neither did my contact. The Red Chamber got them both.’ He took a breath. ‘And they’re still very keen to find you. As are the cops in about fifteen countries. I know you had legitimate reasons for killing Vincent du Buk – the cops are fully aware of how the contracts end, how they really end – but it seems you sticking a knife into him has put you in an awkward position. They want you to testify against the Red Chamber and they will use his murder as the stick to compel you.’

Which was when Océane Blue burst out laughing. After she’d wiped away tears of mirth, she said, ‘Is that what that little bitch told you? That I murdered Vincent?’

‘It’s what she told me. It’s also what the National Crime Agency and the FBI told me.’

Océane shook her head in amusement. ‘I didn’t kill Vincent du Buk, Mr Poe,’ she said. ‘Esmerée did.’

Chapter 106

Poe’s first thought was that Océane was lying. That it was her rather than Esmerée who had killed Vincent du Buk. That the flaw in her personality that had left her devoid of maternal instincts had reared its head and blamed her daughter for something she herself had done.

But he didn’t voice that thought. He didn’t know why. Océane was clearly an awful human being. Like an exquisite Ming Dynasty vase being used to store bile. But for some reason, his second thought was to believe her. So instead of calling her a liar, he said, ‘Tell me about Esmerée’s alien hand.’