sweats and a stretched-out sweater. The third one, unconscious, was the biggest.
Close to six foot six, maybe 260 pounds. Leather jacket, heavy chain around his neck. Empty bottles were scattered across the floor.
Hard liquor, cheap wine, cigarette butts everywhere. On the table, on the floor, in saucers. The ashtray had been knocked over.
Next to it was a syringe. I picked it up carefully by the edge. Used.
Ellie watched me. “Finding evidence, Detective?” she said with a faint smile. “You don’t need to work that hard. I’ll tell you everything myself.”
“Just get them medical help first. I don’t want them dying on me. I need them alive.”
“Alive. Why?” I walked over and sat beside her on the couch. The springs creaked.
“Why alive?” She looked me right in the eye. “So they’d have time to understand. You know? All of it. All the way through.”
Just then we heard footsteps and voices in the stairwell. Backup had arrived: two patrol officers, Detective Simmons, and a young EMT from the ambulance crew. They came into the apartment, saw the room, and froze.
Simmons let out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned.” The EMT, a young woman, went pale.
She started pulling out bandages, gauze, muttering about blood pressure and pulse. She knelt by the first man—the one Ellie had called Steve. He started thrashing and making louder muffled sounds.
The EMT tried to peel the tape off his mouth, but it had been wrapped on thick. Ellie stood up. “Give me the scissors. I’ll cut it.”
She held out her hand. Simmons looked at me. I nodded. She took the scissors, walked over to Steve, leaned in close, and cut the tape slowly, carefully.
The blade passed within a hair of his skin. Steve went completely still, afraid to breathe. The tape came loose.
Ellie ripped it off in one hard pull. Steve cried out in pain. Some skin came off with it around his mouth.
Ellie went back to the couch, sat down, and lit a fourth cigarette. The EMT treated wounds, checked vitals.
No obvious fractures. Definitely a concussion on the big one, the third man. He needed to go to the hospital.
Simmons pulled me aside. “What happened here?”
I shrugged. “Don’t know yet. But she did it.”
“She did all three of them.” “By herself?” Simmons looked from Ellie to the three men on the floor, then back to me. “By herself? Three grown men? Her?”
Ellie heard us. Turned and said, “Not by myself. I had an advantage. They trusted me.”
Then she laughed. Short and bitter. “Fools trusted me.”
Steve, now with his mouth uncovered, tried to speak. His voice came out ragged. “You bitch. You psycho.”
“You tried to kill us. Kill us!” His voice cracked into a shrill panic.
“Call the cops. I’m pressing charges. She—she…”
“Be quiet, Steve.” Ellie’s voice went flat and cold. “Or I’ll tape your mouth shut again.”
“You think the police are going to believe you? You, with two prison terms, against me—a woman with no record?” Detective Simmons stepped toward her. “Ma’am, you’re going to have to come with us to the station.”
“For a statement.” Ellie nodded. “Of course. Just let me finish my tea first. It’s cold in here.”
She got up and went into the kitchen. Simmons and I exchanged a look. He shook his head.
A minute later Ellie came back with a mug of hot tea. She blew on it and took small sips. The EMT finished her exam.
“This one,” she said, nodding toward the third man, “needs the hospital now. The other two can wait a little, but they should go too. Both show signs of drugging.”
“Drugging?”
