Page 12 of Girl, Entangled

‘Strangers In The Night by Saxon.’

‘She’s on a roll! Two more, Ella.’

‘Rainbow in the Dark by Dio.’

‘Yes!’ Dave said. ‘And the last one?’

‘Out In The Fields by Gary Moore.’

Dave went quiet. Ella wondered what she’d spend the money on. Probably her electricity bill.

‘I’m sorry, Ella, the last one is incorrect.’

She nearly jumped off the sofa. ‘What? No way. I know that melody anywhere.’

‘It’s similar, I’ll give you that, but for you and all the listeners, the final one was Iron Maiden, The Evil That Men Do. I’m sorry, Ella, it pains me to say this, but you’re going away empty-handed.’

Ella tapped her forehead with her fist. Dammit to hell. Of course it was The Evil That Men Do. She had the song on her car playlist, for God’s sake. Still, a good loser accepted their defeat with dignity and humility.

‘Thanks for having me, Dave. Have a great day.’

She’d already been disconnected. She turned the volume up on the radio channel to hear Dave give his sympathies to her and then, as if her crippling defeat had summoned a support buddy, someone knocked at her door. Two MPD officers were sitting in her parking lot for exactly this reason, and a visitor getting past them without a call-up first was either expected or a problem. Or maybe it was one of the officers wanting to borrow something.

Ella looked through the peephole.

It wasn’t an officer, or one of the neighbors, or an unexpected Luca.

She opened the door, and there stood her partner.

‘Ripley?’

Her partner regarded Ella, no doubt judging her casual outfit. She’d opted for a t-shirt and sweatpants.

‘Morning, Dark. What’s with the cops downstairs?’

‘You saw them, huh.’

‘They interrogated me at the door.’

‘And they still let you up?’

‘More fool them. Do you have a minute?’

Ella shrugged. ‘I got nothing but minutes. Come on in.’

***

At the kitchen table, Ella explained why there were MPD officers in her parking lot. Ripley explained that she’d just been at a Renaissance faire in Rock Creek Park where a man had been hanged. Throughout the exchange, Ella was still annoyed about the Iron Maiden thing.

She asked, ‘And this was definitely a murder-hanging?’

Ripley looked at her like she’d asked the dumbest question ever. ‘You think I don’t know the difference between a murder and a suicide?’

‘Fair point. Pictures?’

‘Loads of them.’ Ripley unlocked her phone and slid it across the table. Ella took it and began scrolling.

First came the close-ups of the victim. He was middle-aged with no hair. His physique was skinny-fat and he had arms full of amateur tattoos. Next was a close-up of the rope. It was new, clean and thick enough to comfortably hold a grown man’s body weight. Next came the gallows, and while Ella was no expert, it looked identical to a traditional gallows platform. There was a beam to wrap the rope around, a lever and a trap door.