Alastor sat in the recording studio, nursing another glass of whiskey. He was still kicking himself for revealing too much to the detective and was sorting through his drunken hazed mind for a way to make him lose the trail.
Now that he was a person of interest he was sure there were trails that could lead back to him. As it stood there were three associated with the N'Alans Ripper. The only one he had worried about was his old boss. Alastor absent-mindely traced his thigh where he knew the scar was from that encounter. He had strangled him with a rope and then strung him from the radio station rafters. A suicide, it had quickly been ruled. In the struggle, the man had broken a glass and stabbed him in the leg. Alastor didn't even feel the pain until he stood up panting over the corpse. He had cut the man's hand with the same glass. The police had bought it. Drunk, stumbling, hurt himself, hanged himself. Open and shut.
He did the mental math. He had murdered five people. Had it really been five? The police suspected him of three. One of those three wasn't him, Nifty...actually...but he could still easily be implicated for it.
"I wanted to let you know that you're a suspect. It's a wild night, so I wanted to let you know now in case...our killer decides to take advantage of the atmosphere. We were afraid the Ripper might think it would be an easy night," the detective had said.
Alastor ran it through his head over and over. If a murder happened tonight...while he had an alibi...maybe it would remove suspicion. He felt his heart sink. There had been a purpose so far. He had hand picked his victims. A random scapegoat seemed disgusting, made his stomach turn. But he was so close to getting what he needed. Exceptions were necessary, he supposed.
"Hey boss."
He was struck from his reverie at Nifty poking her head in. With the door cracked he could hear the music and voices, the laughter and merriment from the main room.
"I'm going out. Just to a parade with…" she trailed off, blushing. "I'll be home before midnight and I'll call you."
Alastor dropped his feet from the desk and winced at the rushing in his head from getting up too quickly. He glanced at the clock and saw it was already ten. He frowned.
Nifty slid into the room and closed the door, sheepishly. "I know it's already late," she said quietly, a child afraid of scolding.
Alastor sighed and fell back into his chair, rubbing his temple. It was too late. No gentleman would start a date this late. He started to order her to stay, but something stopped him.
It was too late. No gentleman would start a date this late.
He rubbed his face and sent her a warm smile. "Just be careful darling."
She smiled back and twirled out of the room.
His eyes narrowed. He had his mark.
He reached to refill his glass and saw that the bottle was empty.