Girl, Missing by Blake Pierce

Author:Blake Pierce [Pierce, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blake Pierce
Published: 2023-06-05T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ripley returned from the evidence room and said, “I’m now an expert in vintage record players. Have you found out much about Ethan?”

She’d spent some time with their assigned classical music expert to learn more about the phonographs. Ella had been at her laptop, piecing together fragments of Ethan Harlow’s life to form a clear picture of the man behind the music. The acclaimed producer had endless accolades to his name and had worked with artists that even Ella recognized, despite her preferred fondness for music in four-four rhythms. Ethan’s connections ran deep, as his wife had claimed, so filtering by people in his circle and investigating them individually would not be the most time-sensitive method of locating suspects.

“I can’t find any link between Ethan and Vicky Haben. He never worked with her, nor any of the groups she played in. She only really played in orchestras, while Ethan dealt with more commercial outfits. Nothing in common, at least professionally,” Ella said.

Ripley cast a wary eye over Ella’s laptop screen. She was looking through Grayson Miller’s website. “And victim number two?”

Ella held out her palms in defeat. “Nothing. He briefly mentions one of Ethan’s clients, but certainly no mention of Ethan himself. Plus, Grayson’s style didn’t really dig deep enough to slate producers or production values. He mostly kept it to exaggerated analogies.”

“So we’re coming up short,” Ripley said.

“Yeah.” Ella had sadly expected no less. “Anything on the phonographs front?”

“First of all, the music playing at Ethan’s death site was a piece by Richard Wagner called Parsifal. Well, it wasn’t the whole piece because apparently it’s about two hours long. It was just a snippet from it.”

“Another amateur recording?”

“Yup. And before you ask, no. There’s no meta data in vinyl records. We can’t isolate the places where they were recorded. It doesn’t have the ID tracking that digital recordings do. For that, we’d need to get our hands on the master copies.”

Ripley had read her mind. Ella said, “You weren’t lying. You really are an expert.”

“Told you.”

Ella said, “What if we figure out where he’s getting these record players from? There can’t be many places that sell them. We can check retailers or online stores for mass purchases in recent weeks.”

“Sounds like a tech job. I’ll get the guys at HQ on it pronto.”

Chief Sawyer suddenly peered around the door, eyes bulging with red circles, face as pale wax. “Ladies, do you have a minute?” he asked.

Ripley said, “What’s wrong?”

“We got something you might want to see.”

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