Page 29 of The Killer’s Mark

‘There’s no way to tell who made it, then?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ Buckby said. ‘Just means it won’t be obvious, is all. But here, you go and get my drink off Kev, save his bunions. I’ll start watching this.’

Bradshaw pressed play, and Buckby immediately hit pause. He leaned closer to the screen. ‘What’s that on ’er foot?’ he said.

Chapter 20

‘We think it’s a tattoo,’ Poe said.

‘On the sole of her foot?’ Buckby shook his head. ‘Are you winding me up? You can’t tattoo the sole of the foot; it won’t stay on. Your socks’ll rub it off. Be easier tattooing your eyeball.’

‘My client seems very sure.’

His client was also a fifteen-year-old girl with anger-management issues, a mouth like a pirate with Tourette’s and a hand she wasn’t always in control of. It didn’t mean she was lying, of course. It didn’t even mean she was mistaken. But it did mean Poe was treating the tattoo the same way he’d treat any untested information – trust but verify.

Buckby zoomed in. ‘Nah, that ain’t a tattoo, Mr Poe; it’s a film stamp.’

Poe leaned in too. ‘A stamp?’

‘Like the ones you get on the back of your hand when you go to a club. Takes a couple of days to come off. It’s kind of a calling card for some companies. Means that even if – and I should say when these days – the film’s pirated, the company logo is still on the screen. Clever really.’

Poe agreed it was. It seemed easier than saying that stamping a woman was the same as stamping a health mark on a side of beef in the slaughterhouse. He thought that to some men, women and beef were just different varieties of meat. There to be consumed. Sometimes it was hard to be a man. There was a lot of associated guilt. Then he realised that ‘it’s hard to be a man’ was exactly the kind of thing that was best left unsaid. Estelle would scrape her heels all down his shin if he voiced something stupid like that in front of her.

‘A production stamp that blurry won’t help you find her, though,’ Buckby said, stroking his chin. ‘The clip wasn’t up-loaded in HD, so it don’t matter if it’s a smudged stamp or an out-of-focus tattoo.’

He watched a bit more of the clip. He seemed to know his way around computers and Bradshaw was content to let him touch her laptop. Or maybe she was planning to throw it in the Thames as soon as they’d left the pub. Each time the woman’s foot made an appearance, Buckby paused and zoomed in, before pressing play again. The start of the clip was just the woman, a bunch of sex toys and a bored expression. Lots of moaning, no heart. The middle section was a close-up of the woman and the middle-aged man. The one Esmerée had described as a lardass. The woman was perfunctory, like she just wanted to get it over with. The man groaned at the right times; she looked at the camera at the right times. She had blue eyes, but the top half of her face was hidden by the Venetian mask she wore. At the nine-minute point, the camera zoomed out so the viewer could see the whole picture. The man’s eyes were in the back of his head. That was how much fun he was having.

Buckby immediately paused the movie. Pointed at the man. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘I know him.’

Chapter 21

‘That’s Goldie Hardman, that is,’ Buckby said. ‘I’d recognise his yellow syrup anywhere.’

Poe mentally translated. ‘Syrup’ was cockney rhyming slang for a wig. Came from the shortened form of the laxative, syrup of fig. Syrup of fig, wig. Esmerée had said the guy in the clip had hair like Johnny Bravo, but Poe hadn’t given him much thought. He was looking for the woman. ‘You know him?’

‘Of ’im,’ Buckby said. ‘He’s been around a while, has old Goldie. Didn’t think he was still working. He enjoyed smelling ’is key a bit too much, if you know what I mean.’

‘I do.’

‘I don’t,’ Bradshaw said.

‘It’s slang for snorting powdered cocaine, Tilly.’

‘Gosh.’

‘This is a newish film, so he must have got ’imself clean,’ Buckby continued. ‘And lots of the pre-V’s are still getting work as they can deliver the money shot to order.’

‘Pre-V’s?’

‘Pre-Viagra. Guys like Goldie were in demand back in the day. There was an old industry saying: go soft, go home. The ones who could perform under hot lights for hours at a time with a load of hairy-arsed geezers eating sandwiches and farting next to them earned their money. And one of the things they needed to do was finish when the cameras were all set to catch it. Lots of the post-Viagra lot can’t do that. Means the crew are there all hours waiting. It’ll be why Goldie’s still able to get work despite being a bit of a bloater. You tell the pre-V’s you’re ready for the money shot, and most of ’em can deliver within a two-minute window.’

‘What’s the “money shot”?’ Bradshaw asked.

‘It’s when—’

‘Do not answer that question,’ Poe said quickly.

‘Anyway, that’s how you find your mystery woman, Mr Poe,’ Buckby said. ‘You find him.’