don't get me wrong () prodigal son SLOW UPDATES

Eleven

Chapter Eleven:

They sat around a large table, back in one of the board rooms at the NYPD precinct. Malcolm was again at the front, retelling the information that they knew with ones he added. They were all listening expect for JT, who kept pretending to doze off every once and awhile.

Malcolm would pause, staring at JT before continuing. Theodora snorted, whacking the man sat next to her. He jumped with a start, looking around.

"If you don't listen to him, he will send one of his childhood snakes after you." Theodora gave a lopsided smile, glancing at Malcolm with a wink. "Or just his mother."

"Fletcher." Gil snapped.

She looked at the man and shrugged, "What? Jessica and I are cool."

"Anyways." Malcolm coughed, "The killer is a male, not to old, on the younger side. He's—"

"Bald?"

Her friend shot her a glare, "No. I don't think men are bald when their on the younger side of life."

"You don't know that. You're only—"

"I'm not going bald."

"But—"

"Theo."

She raised her hands in defeat, ignoring the amused looks from the rest of the room. Registering the stern one from Gil. "Oh yah, this is an investigation. Sorry. Ha, isn't that awkward."

"Theo." Malcolm said again, and she nodded, closing her mouth. "Gil, what did you learn from Edrisa?"

"They were poisoned with metoprolol, a beta blocker—"

"Nasty stuff." Malcolm sighed. "Killer used it to shut down their hearts."

"Well, they certainly had enemies." Theodora chimed in, swivelling in her chair. "If their family made money in the shipping trade."

"They must've dealt with a lot of shifty people." Gil added.

Dani exhaled loudly, "They have been involved in hundreds of lawsuits over the years. Government fines. They were even investigated by Interpol."

"Oh, a family of snakes. Maybe they used that to send a message." JT clicked his tongue. "A business associate after revenge."

Theodora watched Malcolm at the front carefully, standing with his back to them. His phone was buzzing, and he slipped it from his pocket. He hadn't answered it, but his hand at his side shook and he turned it into a fist.

"No, this crime scene didn't feel like business. It felt personal, like it was directed at Aristos." Malcolm turned around, crossing his arms.

JT only stared at him, a pen dangled between two fingers. "Don't all murders seem personal to you?"

"JT, shut up."  Gil huffed.

"You're a dick." Dani hissed.

Theodora only rolled her eyes, "Well, let's have your dad kill a bunch of people, then we'll see."

"No, JT's right. We're— we're not going to get anywhere until we go through this. So, let's do this." Malcolm nodded, staring directly at the other man. "Hi. My names Malcolm Bright, but I was born Malcolm Whitly. My father is Dr. Martin Whitly, one of the most notorious serial killers since Jack the Ripper. Killed 23 people, at least. All while raising me as the perfect dad." "Yes, he's a psychopath... but I'm not."

"Well..." Theodora pursed her lips, earning a glare from him.

"I'm just me." Malcolm sighed, "What else can I tell you?"