@heprofiles
Mona disliked coming to New York. It was loud, crowded, noisy, and it didn’t smell nearly as good as New Orleans. Plus, there never seemed to be an end to trouble when she was there, like having to spend half a day being interrogated by the police about one of her business associates being murdered.
He had tanked his company that she had been the primary investor in, and owed her a lot of money. So, of course, they assumed she did it or had someone do it for her. It had taken hours, her Uncle Moreland’s excellent legal representation, and the confirmation of her alibi to get her out of that room, but now they were questioning her driver to confirm her story and check for inconsistencies.
She sat against her towncar, taking slow hits off of her vape pen as she waited for her driver to return. Mona was unsure as to why they had been so adamant she was involved, even after her initial statement, but she knew better than to kick up a fuss and complain about it. They were doing their job, after all, and while it was a waste of time she didn’t mind it unless they wanted to try something dumb like pin it on her.
One of the detectives, or at least she thought he was a detective, came outside and looked in her direction. She met his eyes and took a long, slow exhale of cookie dough-scented vapor. “Getting some air?” She asked him, “Or did you have more questions for me? Need to know if I should call my uncle back.”
