CHAPTER 33
Three days after talking to Berwald and Alice was still stuck.
The apartment was in a worse mess than when Francis came over, though she had no idea how she managed that. Broken glass lay around, dried blood on the tips.
Probably from her trying to clean it up while she was still drunk, but Alice didn't remember, the hangover was too bad.
Life had gotten even worse for her after visiting the nightclub, as if the killer knew she was getting closer and was trying to stop her. She hadn't talked to anyone else in what felt like forever, and she felt as though her blood had been replaced completely with liquor.
Francis.
The nearly a kiss hadn't stopped running marathons through her head the past three days, not even when she was drunk off her arse.
Alice should've stopped.
She should've pushed him away; she should've not even told him where she was going or doing. But nooo, Alice had to tell him. And now, he might possibly be in danger of being slaughtered by the man after Alice. She wondered what would happen between the two after this was all over. If she was still alive, then. Would they get those cheesy, rot-your-teeth happy endings? Or would he just find a job somewhere else and forget all about her?
Alfred.
How was her little brother doing? He was most likely okay, since no one had called her, screaming thick Russian. The bugger must be worrying himself thin, Alice thought, it'd be a sight to see Alfred as a thin, lanky man. He'd always been well built, like an American Football player.
Alistair, Dylan, Wilma, and Patrick.
…She wouldn't even dare think about them right now. She couldn't.
A black and white map of London was pinned to her wall. Bright blue pins were placed over the murder scenes, a little note to remind her of the letters that had been painted on their foreheads.
Alice had started to go through the files of all the people that had a collection of Lovino's knives. She'd gone and filtered all of them by using the letters. Perhaps they were clues, pointing to the name of the serial killer. Serial killers tended to like getting the credit. They wanted to be found, you just had to find the right crumb trail. After looking through all the possible candidates, she found one that struck a chord in her for some unknown reason.
Vargas, Venziano
Age: 20, dead.
Gender: Male
Family members: Remus Vargas (dead), father; Luciano Vargas (missing), twin brother; Heracles Karpusi, cousin; Gupta Muhammad Assan, cousin; Lovino Vargas, cousin; Feliciano Vargas, cousin.
Position: Head Sniper from Squardron 1532
A picture fell out of the file. It was a read red-headed man with wild eyes. He wore a hunting cap and a dark tan uniform. He held the entire knife set in between his fingers, grinning maliciously. Venziano was Lovino and Feliciano's cousin. There wasn't much information, just that he'd once been part of Lovino's mafia and then, suddenly, was dead.
Something wasn't right.
Nothing was ever "just dead". Her mind went to the man that Kiku had killed, the one that had the same handwriting as the notes.
She found herself dialing the number before her brain processed it. "…Yes?" Lovino's voice crackled over the line.
"I need some more info." Alice said.
"Seriously, ragazza?" Lovino huffed. "Why the fuck did I give you the Viking's location if you were going to just keep pestering me?"
"It was a dead end from what I can tell." She huffed, "Why did you tell me you had a cousin?"
"…" Lovino stayed silent. "…Che cosa?"
"Venziano Vargas." Alice kept her voice steady. There was no way that this man was just dead. Or maybe even dead, at all. There was more to this story. Something that Lovino wasn't telling her about. But…If Lovino went so far as to keep him a secret from Alice…
"Dimenticati di lui. Adesso." Lovino's voice sizzled with hatred.
Alice's interest perked. "Come mai? Cosa non mi stai dicendo, Lovino?"
"Just forget it, ragazza. It's in your best interest." The phone line went dead.
Translations:
Ragazza = Girl.
…Che cosa? = ...What?
Dimenticati di lui. Adesso. = Forget about him. Now.
Come mai? Cosa non mi stai dicendo, Lovino? = Why? What are you not saying, Lovino?