Kimora was, in a word, displeased. People of lesser status would use the colloquial term of ‘pissed off’. The tracker she’d given Jared had finally come back online: a gift for the man after one too many paranoid episodes about being followed. It proceeded to immediately shut off, and she’d then had the unfortunate happenstance to run into a cop.
Said cop was talking animatedly about kolaches, of all things, with the driver of the death trap she was stuck in. The metal cuffs on her wrists dug into her skin, and she fought against the itch to slip out of them. She focused on her targets instead.
Where the bitch that had arrested her was tall and intimidating, her partner was small and lithe. The tall one had an accent that spoke of a countryside upbringing, while the lithe one had an accent that was all Fayeport suburbs.
Kimora merely had to figure out how to use that against them, get them to slip up, so that she could claim police brutality.
“I’m surprised a country hick can memorize law enough to enforce it,” she started, meeting the tall cop’s eyes through the rearview mirror. “But I suppose life is full of surprises.”
The tall one grinned at her, just a little too sharp to be friendly.
“I imagine your mind is gonna be blown when you realize I’m a detective,” oh fantastic, Kimora was in more of a conundrum than she had thought. “And you’re about to get intimately familiar with an interrogation room.”
Wait. That wasn’t right. She’d only punched the detective, and hadn’t been involved in any other crime. She had no illusions about her status and how that shaped the world around her; the only reason any cop, detective, or chief would take her in for questioning was if there was some concrete connection that she could not deny.
The tall detective had been in the area she’d been fighting, presumably scanning the alleys for more evidence.
Jared’s tracker had gone off in that alley, after four months of silence, only to die immediately.
There was a large police presence in the neighborhood, to the extent that she’d left her driver at the end of the street to go looking on foot.
Grief threatened to take over; she ruthlessly stomped it down. What was grief going to get her at that moment? Nothing. If Jared was dead, then crying certainly wasn’t going to bring him back. If she gave in, she lost a chance to gather valuable intel from the idiot farmhand in front of her, and lost her chance to hunt down who had done it herself.
Emotions had no place in a police interrogation. They were likely to fog her mind, cause inconsistencies, make her forget things.
The car that barely deserved to be called one was pulling onto the main road, likely only a few more minutes before it made it to the station. She had that much time to come to a decision.
She could ask for a lawyer, refuse to say anything, and watch the reactions around her. The other choice was to not ask for a lawyer, to fish for information from the detectives as the detectives fished for information from her. That was more dangerous, since her capabilities were geared towards business, not law, and she could let something innocuous slip that could later be used to prosecute her.
Kimora had no illusions about the efficacy of the police in any city; innocent people got arrested all the time.
The Fayeport Police Department slowly came into view, and she felt her nose wrinkle in disgust against her will. It was good, old construction, but it’d been present during the Big Quake of 1952, which was made evident by the small portion of the collapse she could see. The building itself was either some weird tie-dye job or so covered in graffiti that it appeared as such.
It looked like shit.
“Where, exactly, is our taxpayer money going if you can’t even fix the building?” Kimora wondered, not necessarily at the detective, but in general. It had been over fifty years, that was plenty of time to hire out contractors and fix the building.
“Oh, the building’s been fixed,” the short one said, and then proceeded to never stop talking. “We just left that part alone cuz it wasn’t anything important when it crumbled, and it’s a pretty nice break room now. Actually, there’s these tables that we liberated from an old fastfood joint, it’s been shut down for years, and the chairs are the pieces of wall that are on the ground, it’s really quite cool. Once we’re done and you get bailed out because you’re rich, we can totally give you a tour, it’s super interesting-“
“No, we aren’t giving a tour, because you’re going to the interrogation room and answering the many, many questions I have.”
Kimora frowned, actually wanting the chatterbox to keep talking. She kind of did want that tour; if it was a flaw that had been converted into a feature, that was something she wanted to see.
“…So when I get bailed out, I should ask for your partner to give me the tour instead of you?”
“You’re not getting a tour.”
“I’m a Mordrel. I’m getting a tour.”
“You’re not getting a tour.”
Kimora snorted and leaned back in her seat.
She was getting her tour, and just to spite the tall detective, she was going to demand it from her.
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The process of getting booked for assaulting an officer was embarrassing and boring, and she had been fully anticipating it; but Kimora wasn’t getting that done. She had the initial booking, and was then immediately escorted to an interrogation room.
Other cops openly stared, shocked and incredulous, as she was guided past them. Whispers started up, and she knew the timer had begun.
Someone was going to leak that she was at the station, it was going to get to the press, and her mother was going to find out. Good news, she was absolutely not going to spend a moment in the station longer than she had to. Bad news, she likely had roughly thirty minutes to collect data.
The detective that brought her in left the short one to bring her into the room and get her situated, finally removing the stupid cuffs before leaving her alone in the room with a water bottle.
Perfect. She could itemize what she had to learn, and plan on how to get that information from the detective. Luckily it was a pretty short list; find out what happened to Jared, find out if she was the only suspect, see if she could make the detective slip and give away any info about the case.
Once she deemed that she had enough information, she would cease the interview and demand a lawyer.
The door opened, and Kimora couldn’t help the glare she gave the tall detective walking in.
The detective just snorted at her.
“Okay, Miss Mordrel, since you never asked earlier, we’ll start off with introductions,” the tall one drawled, sitting down in the other chair as her partner dragged in what looked like a chair from a restaurant. “I’m Detective Zenith Leonardi, and that is Detective Dawn Oakley. Do you need anything else aside from the water before we get started?”
“I have the right to remain silent, anything I say can and will be used against me in a court of law. I have the right to an attorney, if I cannot afford one then one will be provided to me. I have heard and understand these rights. Now can we get started?” Kimora droned, forcing the glare to leave her face and replacing it with something bored.
“No. Because now you have to sign a paper saying you understand all of that, and I have to read it to you regardless of whether or not you know it.” Detective Leonardi looked…well. The smile on her face wasn’t something Kimora would point at someone she was trying to win over.
True to her word, the detective read the Miranda Rights to her, and took her signature. Kimora, true to her name and reputation as a businesswoman, read every inch of that paper before she signed it. She perhaps took a bit longer than she would have normally, an action that severely cut into the time she had to get information before her mother arrived, but she was feeling petty.
The statement signed, both she and Detective Leonardi leaned back in their seats and stared at each other.
“Why am I really here, Detective?” Kimora started, folding her hands in front of her and trying to make her posture as relaxed as possible. She was the one who started business deals, and she wasn’t about to let someone else take the lead.
Detective Leonardi, on the other hand, leaned in, Detective Oakley casually positioning her chair so that Kimora was cornered by the two of them.
Ah. Kimora knew that tactic; she used it herself sometimes, when pushing for a deal that favored her company more than the other. Make them feel like they’re boxed in, increase stress levels, take advantage of the inherent need to get out of a situation like that by pushing them to agree to something.
She felt her lips curl into a smirk, and kept her posture open.
“Well, why don’t you tell me? Any particular reason you were in that alley?” Detective Leonardi asked, looking for the world like she wasn’t itching to jump to an accusation.
“Not at all. I was going for a walk and found myself accosted by a group of thugs, and lashed out in a moment of fear.” Kimora lied through her teeth, smirk turning into an affable smile.
“Fear. Right. I’ve seen fear in a lot of people, and it really doesn’t look like whatever you were doing there.”
“How odd, I would expect someone who’s seen a lot of fear to recognize that it takes different forms.”
“That wasn’t fear. You threw your business card at me like money at a hooker.”
“Are you not?”
Detective Leonardi narrowed her eyes, and Kimora made sure to keep her expression in that smile.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Detective Leonardi growled, the country drawl lengthening her vowels.
“What are cops if not spectacularly expensive hookers?” Kimora pushed, adjusting her posture and leaning forward as well, until she and Detective Leonardi were almost touching each other’s foreheads. “We pay you to go do what we want, to make life easier, and you do it. Some are more skilled than others, and get paid more, while others are so incompetent it’s clear that they only got the gig because of their looks.”
Detective Leonardi hadn’t moved, and Kimora was close enough to see the tips of her ears turning red with rising blood pressure.
Good.
“So what could you, of all detectives, possibly have on me to warrant an interrogation? Unless, true to form for the police, this was a mistake.” She continued, channeling her inner CEO voice. Condescending, pitying, and amused.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Guaranteed to generate a response.
But Detective Leonardi laughed.
Kimora’s smile dropped, her rhythm thrown off.
“Wow, for a CEO I was expecting something good, but I guess it’s true that Mordrel Security really downgraded after your mom retired, huh?”
Kimora felt her own ears start to heat up, the mask of affability completely falling off.
“I should have hit you harder,” she breathed without meaning to, slipping up.
Detective Leonardi’s answering smile was vicious.
“Um, guys? Maybe we should calm down? Take a breather?” Detective Oakley asked, sounding nervous.
“Not now,” Kimora and Detective Leonardi said in unison, still in each other’s faces.
“Yes now, a really scary lady just walked in and she looks pretty pissed, so I think we should take a break.”
“By break, she means this interrogation is ending,” Mother said, voice tight with rage.
Kimora sagged, letting out a huff as she leaned away from Detective Leonardi. She’d failed. She had no further information, and she’d gotten worked up.
“Hello, mother,” she offered, looking up to see the other woman’s stone cold expression looking down on the detectives in the room.
Mother nodded at her briefly, before motioning for the man standing in her shadow to step forward. One of the Lawyers they had on retainer, Kimora recognized.
She decided to let him finish the rest of the conversation.
She was never going to speak to Detective Leonardi again if she could help it.
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The drive to Mordrel Manor was tense.
Mother hadn’t said anything since they’d gotten into the car, and the driver, Miss Lydia, had only deigned to acknowledge her. The old butler’s brown eyes went over her just once, probably checking for any injuries, before their attention returned to the road. Both were clearly upset, and Kimora couldn’t find the words to explain why she’d gone along with the interrogation.
Mother kept mussing her short, greying hair as she rapidly texted back and forth with someone, blue eyes kept darting from Kimora to the phone screen. Kimora didn’t ask, unwilling to start the conversation she didn’t want to have. That was apparently fine, though. Mother had no problem starting difficult conversations and remaining perfectly civil during them. Another impossible expectation to live up to.
“You went to a random alley, in a shady part of town, within the vicinity of a crime so awful that the area is practically infested with police,” Mother started, finally looking up from her phone to address Kimora. “I need to know why, and because I’m certain that you aren’t going to be entirely truthful, I’m assigning you some bodyguards.”
Kimora couldn’t stop the groan that left her as she slouched in her seat.
“I gave Mister Beiler a tracker, because he was paranoid. It went offline when he went missing. It came back online in that alley. I got attacked by idiots. I took them out. I punched a cop.” Kimora summarized, staring out the window as the neon decorations and graffiti slowly gave way to the monochrome of the business district.
“Kimora!” Mother hissed, going back to texting someone even more furiously. “You attacked a cop? Why would you do that? We’re going to have to donate to the police now, to smooth things over with them. Do you need anger management therapy again? Do I need to take over Mordrel Tech and give you a break?”
“No!” Kimora shouted, lurching up and staring at Mother with wide eyes. “No, I can handle it. It’s fine, I just lashed out in the heat of the moment, that’s all.”
Mother eyed her suspiciously, slowly putting the phone down.
“…Okay. I trust you, Kimora, I just wish you’d be more open with me.” She said quietly, all of her attention completely focused on her daughter.
Kimora shifted under the gaze, not sure how her mother wanted her to respond. Did she want flattery? Did she want Kimora to be humble? What was the point of saying such a thing?
She didn’t understand.
So she opted to just talk about her suspicions.
“I think Jared is dead,” she started slowly, looking back out the window to avoid her mother’s earnest gaze. “The tracker's proximity to the heavy police presence can’t be a coincidence. There’s been no word, so I don’t think it’s confirmed yet. Detective Leonardi must have just been looking for an excuse to talk to me to see if I knew anything. An excuse I gave her when I attacked her.”
The car was silent, and Kimora looked up to see her mother staring at her with a carefully blank expression.
“This is all, of course, speculation. I thought I could get Detective Leonardi or Detective Oakley to give up information in the interrogation. I was wrong, and I learned nothing new.” She continued for lack of anything else to say.
Mother nodded, looking back down at her phone and sending one final text just as the car left the higher class suburbs and into the gated community the Mordrel family called home.
Well. The Mordrel family minus Kimora.
“Okay. I just asked Vikky if she has anyone who’s not on assignment right now, and she wants to talk to you when we get to the Manor.” Mother said, sliding the phone into her pocket. Kimora was certain that her own phone was blowing up with messages in her office, where she’d left it. “Ray is even there, so the whole family will be present. You aren’t alone, Kimora, we’re here for you.”
Kimora said nothing in response to that.
She didn’t know how Mother wanted her to respond. It was better to be silent and watch than to speak and make a mistake.
She was being told to reach out for help, but it felt more like Mother was saying she regretted putting Kimora in charge of Mordrel Security. Like she was being reprimanded for not being able to outsmart someone as simple as a cop.
She was just going to have to try harder, to prove that she wasn’t a liability.
She steeled herself as the car pulled into the gravel path that led to Mordrel Manor. She would reassure everyone that everything was under control, she would play nice with Sunray and Eleanor, she would smooth over Victoria’s worries and show her that she didn’t need any bodyguards.
It would be simple. Straightforward.
She was in control, she just had to remember that.
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“If I’d known baby Kimmy punched her first cop, I’d have brought something a bit nicer than whiskey,” Sunray lamented, throwing a tanned arm around Kimora’s shoulders. “Alas, this is all I have at the moment, so we must make do.”
“Madam, I do believe we have a thirty year old Arita Yaki hidden away. Shall I pull it for such a momentous occasion?” Miss Lydia asked mildly, face and voice betraying nothing of her true emotions.
“Yes, absolutely. This is definitely worth it.” Sunray agreed, curly brown hair bouncing as her head nodded, completely serious. Kimora shrugged off her arm and straightened her shirt, attempting to ignore the questionable stains on it from her earlier scuffle.
Miss Lydia turned and left, presumably to go get the aforementioned drink, just as Victoria pushed past Sunray to crowd Kimora next. Victoria looked like a spitting image of their mother, the actual expected heir that had turned away from Mordrel Security. The one that Kimora had replaced as a last minute change of plans.
The one her Board members whispered about behind her back, lamenting that they didn’t get ‘the good one’.
“Cain and Liam are both able to step in as bodyguards,” she said, hands flitting over Kimora’s hair and dirty shirt, “So I can just grab them both and assign them to you, they won’t mind. What were you thinking, going into such a place with no one to defend you? Thank God that cop was there, I can’t imagine-“
“Oh my God, Vikky, Kimmy is strong, she can defend herself-“
“That’s not the point, Ray, what if one of them had a gun!”
“Oh, they did.” Kimora interrupted, overwhelmed.
Both sisters stopped arguing and turned as one to pin her down with almost identical looks of outrage.
“...Have a gun, that is. I saw it after Detective Leonardi had him cuffed on the ground. The holster was on his back, and the gun was thrown just out of reach.” Kimora continued, unsure of what else to do. “It turned out fine, though, so it’s irrelevant.”
“Irrelevant?” Sunray asked, voice flat.
“I’m telling both Cain and Liam that they’re on assignment with you,” Victoria said, fingers already flying across her phone screen as she seemingly informed the men of their new job for the foreseeable future.
Kimora hated it. She hated being thrown off by the feelings and family bullshit. People always used it to mask their actual intentions, and she could never tell what her mother and sisters wanted when they acted like this. Did they want her to play house? Did they want her to let them steamroll over her?
No, it had to be a test.
If she agreed to the help, then Mother would have proof she wasn’t ready to run Mordrel Security.
‘Only weaklings and idiots need to ask for help, Kimmy girl, but you’re different from the riffraff, aren’t you?’
Words spoken from a man that barely deserved the title of father, but that didn’t mean they weren’t true. Kimora refused to lose her company because of perceived incompetence.
She put on her best business smile, mentally wiping away any lingering confusion or resentment.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’m fine on my own, and I do not require any further assistance.”
“Bitch,” a young voice said from behind her.
“Eleanor!” Mother gasped, starting forward to scold the youngest.
“But she is,” Eleanor said, dark brown eyes hard and unforgiving as Kimora turned to meet her. “Everyone is offering help, and she’s too good for it. Why did you even come here then?”
“Because Mother did not ask where to drop me off,” Kimora replied, her smile all teeth. “Otherwise I would never dream of intruding on your property, little princess.”
Eleanor actually lunged at Kimora at the nickname, but Mother intercepted her and tossed the little ten year old over her shoulder.
“Okay! Okay, I still want those bodyguards on you, but we can work something out so you don’t feel trapped. Eleanor, go cool off in your room. Now.” Mother ordered, hoisting the little girl off her shoulders and plopping her in the doorway.
Eleanor stomped one foot and shot a final glare at Kimora.
“You always take her side! It’s not fair!”
“Trust me, I’m not. I just need to talk to you both separately, since you seem to feed off of each other when either of you is in a bad mood. Just go cool off, Eleanor, we’ll talk then.”
The older siblings watched the youngest sulk all the way to her room, wildly curly black hair bouncing with every step, and Kimora only marginally regretted snapping at a ten year old.
“She’s right, though, you are kind of a bitch,” Sunray piped up, elbowing Kimora hard enough to make her stumble. “But you’re our bitch, so we’re going to ignore whatever bullshit you’re about to spout and help you anyways.”
Fantastic. She failed their test.
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It was Jasmine, of all her siblings, who was her saving grace.
Victoria was still prattling on and on about security, Sunray was trying to force more alcohol onto her, Eleanor could be heard stomping around upstairs, and Mother insisted on scolding her for her attitude towards said stomping ten year old.
Jasmine, freshly sixteen with a brand new drivers license, had quietly pulled Kimora aside and asked if she wanted to be Jasmine’s first passenger.
Kimora, ready to commit grand theft auto just to get away from the family, had jumped on the chance, following her dark skinned sister to the garage without either of them telling the rest of the family where they were going.
Jasmine was a little too cautious with her turns, the nervousness of a new driver causing her to be overly delicate with the vehicle she was driving, and she kept pausing to make sure her afro was in place.
Kimora said nothing, letting the girl get her nerves out before she opted to talk.
“So, uh. You almost got shot. That’s…not good.” Her little sister started, hands tight on the steering wheel as she left the drive and got onto the main road. “No one wants you shot. It’s not, like, a test or anything. We just kind of want you alive?”
Right. Jasmine was abnormally good at understanding Kimora. She’d forgotten her main reason for avoiding the teenager in her haste to leave the Manor.
“When you’re an adult, things are different, Jasmine,” Kimora advised, subtly clutching the edge of her seat as Jasmine underestimated the brakes. “You’ll learn as you get older.”
Jasmine shook her head, eyes never leaving the road as the car jerked to a stop at an empty crossroads.
“No, I think you’re just misunderstanding. We all really like you, you know? We just don’t want to see you hurt.”
Kimora felt her lips thin. That kind of naïve ideology would be beaten out of Jasmine when she got into the real world. It had happened sooner with Kimora, and she had her father to thank for the training he’d done to prepare her for her role, but Jasmine would have the unfortunate learning experience in real time in front of her peers.
“Sometimes people lie, Jasmine, and no one does anything without expecting something in return,” Kimora tried to teach her, trying to at least prepare her for reality a little bit. “You just have to figure out what they want, and then you can use that to get what you want. It’s like a trade-“
“-But not everyone is like that! We aren’t!” Jasmine interrupted, finally letting her frustration leak out. “What we want is for you to be safe, but you keep doing stupid shit! We offer to help, and you tell us to fuck off!”
“Eleanor is the most honest one there, and that’s only because of her age,” Kimora interrupted, cutting off the useless rant about feelings from a little girl who didn’t understand the politics of the business world. “You are honest as well, but you should work on that. The world of business will eat you alive if you don’t.”
“Eleanor is upset because she doesn’t know how to handle her emotions,” Jasmine said, voice strained as she took a turn too tight. “She’s a kid, and it’s our job to teach her how to handle them. Also, she’s traumatized, so please try not to hate on her?”
Kimora kept her answer to herself. She knew her opinion wouldn’t be welcome. Jasmine stopped pushing as well, and kept driving to the business district. The drive was silent, the sisters gathering their thoughts.
“…I don’t want to go into business,” Jasmine admitted quietly, not looking at Kimora as her older sister whipped around to stare at her. “I want to teach. I just…haven’t told mom yet. But if the world of business is like you say, then I don’t want anything to do with it.”
Oh. Kimora actually felt a little guilty about that.
“…I’m sure there’s some people in business who are honest?” She offered, wincing as it came across as a question more than a reassurance. Jasmine laughed a little, very narrowly avoiding running into someone.
“We both know that’s not true. So, why were you and the cop in the same spot? Mom didn’t say.”
“I think Mister Beiler is dead,” Kimora said, thrown off. “Too many cops in the area his tracker went off in, and Detective Leonardi was too desperate to pull me in for questioning.”
Jasmine actually looked a little heartbroken.
“I liked that guy, he was nice. Any idea why someone would want him dead?” She asked innocently, and Kimora felt her brain latch onto it.
Right. There had to be a reason.
“If it’s related to Mordrel Securities, I’m going to find out.” And she’d do it before that stupid detective did.