Reimagined: Billie Eilish’s ‘All The Good Girls Go To Hell’

Billie Eilish is a fallen angel in her latest vid, ‘All The Good Girls Go To Hell’. It’s a dark few minutes as we watch Billie drag her wings through the flames of where she fell, but what of the poor detectives who had to deal with the mess the next morning?

Hands in his pockets, forehead even more furrowed than usual, DI Duncan Kovacs stared at the charcoaled, ashen puzzle before him. All clichés aside, and despite his handy 26 years on the force, he’d never come across anything quite like this.

In this small town, arson calls were typically made from one of two places: vacant buildings (schools, usually) or the wooded area just south of the river. It was rarely anything more sinister than a few kids playing dragon, often serving the smoke with a lavish helping of vulgar (though admittedly quite creative) graffiti.

But this case fit neither of those two scenes – far from it: the chosen site was the soon-to-be brand new shopping park, just six months from opening. Car park frames had been torched, as had the roadside grasslands, each flambée cast in an oddly patchy and irregular fashion. Very little remained from that which wasn’t concrete, and even those structures looked like they were ready to pack it in; in all honesty, the place looked like an authentic bomb site. They had received several calls last night alerting the emergency services to a large blaze coming from the construction site, but no mention of any explosions.

From the rubbled remains of the park to the centre of where he stood now, Kovacs followed what proved to be the most inexplicable aspect of the entire scene. Two trails of cinder ran parallel, from one scorched patch to another, as though someone had dragged two petrol-soaked bedsheets to a bonfire. Except there were wasn’t a trace of petrol to be found – no hint of flammable liquid or gunpowder that could possibly explain the fiery tyre tracks that had left these trails behind.

Whatever happened here, Kovacs thought to himself, they certainly thought outside the box.

“What d’ya reckon then, boss? Couple nasty kids having their fun?”

Kocavs looked to his right and saw the bright young face of DC Frederick Arlo. He stood with a coffee cup in each hand, well-armed for such a bitter Sunday morning, and passed one, smiling, to his superior.

“I’m not sure, Fred, something doesn’t quite add up here.”

“You think it was aimed? There’s a lot of money gone into this these last few months, I know a few people who’d rather see that money elsewhere.”

“I’m not sure about that, either,” said Kovacs, though he groaned at the thought of what their self-proclaiming ‘hero’ (git) of a mayor would have to say about this.

“They found any trace of what might have caused it, yet?” Kovacs asked, but Fred shook his head.

“Nothing yet. Looks like a big job though, whoever did it.”

Whoever indeed, wondered Kovacs.

Gazing over the aftermath and blowing the steam off their coffee, the two men resumed to silence. Though evidently effective, to both the crime seemed reckless and poorly planned. No chance of it being an accident either: the electricians weren’t due for another two weeks.

Kovacs was just about to leave and speak with another of the firemen when something suddenly caught is eye. To the far left of the site, easily mistaken for some cremated remnants of the construction, lay a strangely human-like black mound.

“Fred,” he said, “what the hell is that?”

As ever, listen to Billie Eilish on Spotify and Apple for the bigger picture.

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