“If she shows you, will you leave?” Damon growled, clearly at the end of his patience. The only reason he hadn’t thrown Jason out was the threat of arrest. Damon was a business owner and needed to stay on the good side of his venture capitalists.
“Yes, I will,” Jason said.
Avery opened the top drawer. She didn’t need to push aside her underwear to know that her bag of hawk feathers was gone. Too bad for Jason, he wouldn’t know the significance.
“It’s only feathers,” she said. “Ivanna must have taken them to get a head start on the mask she’s making.”
Jason nodded. His shoulders slumped slightly, and Avery had the last laugh.
“You thought I had an illegal firearm, didn’t you? Or something else long and hard.” She chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint you. I’ll go to the station and get fingerprinted if you return the chocolate to me so I can get some work done.”
“Deal.” He at least had the grace to smirk as he reached out and offered her his hand.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jason shouldn’t like the feel of Avery’s fingers intertwined with his, but she owed him. Big time, and he loved the way Damon glowered at him while he sauntered with her to the convertible.
At the police station, the box of chocolates was dusted, and Avery allowed the tech to fingerprint her. Since the chocolate was still shrink-wrapped, Jason returned it to her.
He was overreacting and wasting police resources, but if Damon used the so-called break-in to get Avery away from him, then he was going to use the so-called break-in to hang on to Avery longer than necessary.
As long as he provoked them, she and her brother were a goldmine of information once riled up. He hadn’t missed the reference to Avery being a troubled teen, and of course, he’d also picked up the part on stripping in turnout pants for the private showing—something Brando must have done for the professor’s strange tastes.
“Want to come with me when I question Ivanna about the break-in?” Jason asked Avery.
“There is no break-in.” She shoved the box of chocolates at him. “Your going-away present. I’m going to see Ivanna and go over the accessories, and you are to leave me alone.”
“Babe, you wrecked my car. I’ve not going away until you pay me back.”
“I just did.” She smirked, wagging her head. “With chocolate.”
“You assaulted a police officer.” He opened the door of the convertible for her.
“Your favorite crime. No one will believe you. It’s he said, she said.”
“Ivanna’s address,” he said. “Get in.”
“Fine. I need a ride and a driver.” She got in. Rolling her eyes, she pulled out her phone and read it to him. “I’m warning you. It’s going to get very boring for you.”
“I’ll take boring now for a shot at excitement later.” He started the car and followed her directions. “I can’t wait to meet Ivanna now that I, too, am a model for you.”
“You’re not a model.” Her retort was knee-jerk, as he expected.
“And Brando was? Do I get a clothing line designed for me too?”
“Brando wasn’t a model.” Her tone stiffened, no longer light. Even though he hit a sore spot, he was going to get the information out of her whether she liked it or not.
“He might not have been, but I consider myself a model.” Jason puffed out his chest and hooked a thumb at himself. “I mean, if it walks like a model, quacks like a model, strips like a model.”
“You’re not a model,” Avery said. “You’re a volunteer.”
“Where do you get the models you use for the fashion shows?” he asked. “I’d like to apply to the agency and get paid.”
“You’re not thin enough to be a male model,” she said. “It’s not as easy as you think.”
“Still, shouldn’t I be represented by an agency, maybe even be unionized?”
“Models are not unionized. It’s not easy getting the right bookings, and you don’t get paid a lot when you’re unknown.”
“I’ll have experience after the private showing to your professor, and I’m sure he’ll give me a recommendation.”
“Doesn’t work that way,” she said. “Models at your level are more or less anonymous. You’re only a walking clothes hanger. You’re thinking of a few supermodels who are celebrities. They’re in a completely different class and have a large following on social media to keep the buzz hot.”
“Got to start somewhere.” He parked in front of an East Harlem brownstone. “Maybe Ivanna can put a good word in for me.”
“Ivanna doesn’t recruit the models,” Avery said. “She only manages the ones we get. Since I’m a small firm and on a limited budget, I can’t afford the celebrity models. I specify height, weight, and diversity requirements, and they send them to me.”
“Still, she might know the models better than you.”
“True,” Avery conceded as she got out of the car. “If you’re so interested, I’ll ask Ivanna to give you a few leads.”
That was all he wanted. Ivanna and Jason were going to be best friends. He particularly wanted to pass the pictures of the dead models in front of her and see if she’d known them. He could ask Avery, but he didn’t want to spook her until he knew more.
The brownstone did not have a doorman, so Avery buzzed Ivanna’s room. She tried several times, even tapping the Morse code for S O S.
“She’s not answering,” Jason noted. “Did she expect you?”
“I texted her from the police station,” Avery said. “Of course, she expects me.”
“Call her.”
“Ugh, you’re so bossy.” She nevertheless placed the call. It went to voicemail and she left a brief one. “Hey, it’s me, Avery. I’m at your place downstairs. You must be in the middle of something. Give me a call when you’re ready.”
“Now what?” He took a picture of the button Avery used to call Ivanna’s intercom. “You getting hungry?”
“You have the chocolate,” she said.
“Yeah, but I’m betting you’d love pupusas. I know a small hole in the wall where they’re handmade.”
“Nice try,” Avery said. “Unfortunately for you, Damon wants me to go to a team dinner with his engineers. You can drop me off at Slipstream Entertainment. I’m sure you know where it is, since you’re such a meticulous stalker.”
He’d gotten enough information from her, including Ivanna’s apartment location. Besides, he thoroughly enjoyed baiting her, although if he were honest with himself, he’d already swallowed her bait hook, line, and sinker.
After dropping Avery off at Slipstream Entertainment, Jason kept the box of chocolates and made a call to the fingerprint lab.
It was as he suspected.
The fingerprints taken off the chocolate box matched the ones he got from Tatiana Renzi’s apartment.
Larry Leach, or Mr. Wraparound, had been in the vicinity of Avery’s apartment this afternoon. It was time to pay him a visit.
Twenty minutes later, Jason flashed his badge to the doorman of a high-rise tower decorated with gold plating. Its lobby included an atrium, fountains of water, and an escalator that appeared to be a stairway through a cloud ascending to a golden heaven.
The doorman alerted Larry that Jason was on his way to question him about a beating he might have witnessed.
Larry remarked, “New York is full of beatings. Why would the detective believe I know anything about it?”
“I have witnesses who place you at the scene of Lushpuppies when Garm Guillory’s brother, Saul, was beaten,” Jason said. “I’m the investigating officer, and this will be quick if you have an alibi.”
“Come on up,” Larry said. “I have nothing to hide.”
That was what the overconfident crooks always said. There was a reason why their lawyers popped nitroglycerin like breath mints. Larry’s curiosity, a huge red flag, was sure to win out over caution.
Larry answered the door. He was wearing a tracksuit and snazzy running s
hoes. His sweat band was wet, suggesting he’d returned from a run in the park. He wasn’t wearing his trademark sunglasses, and Jason noted his light-brown eyes appeared washed out, framed by even lighter eyelashes, giving him an almost alien expression.
“This will be quick,” Jason said as a way to gain entry.
“I’m sure you won’t mind if I don’t offer you a drink,” Larry said. “Why would a detective of your caliber be investigating a street beating?”
“You were seen in the vicinity.”
“I was at Lushpuppies that night, but I was long gone before that punk got sent to the hospital.”
“I’d like to get a timeline,” Jason said. Larry had made his second mistake—that of knowing what had happened to Saul, the supposed punk. “When did you arrive at Lushpuppies that night? Who did you meet? What did you see when you left?”
Larry poured himself a drink and paced to his window. “I’m not sure it would help. Like I said, I was long gone.”
“At what time?”
Larry gave the time and shrugged. “You see? Gone.”
“Alibi for the rest of the evening?”
“No, but why are you questioning me?”
“Because of this.” He raised the plastic shopping bag and extracted the box of chocolates. “The woman you spoke to that night received an unmarked box of chocolates.”
Larry’s feral eyes widened a split second, but he covered nicely by blinking. “You’re wasting my time. I’ve never seen that box of chocolates, and I have no idea what woman you’re talking about.”
“The woman is Saul Guillory’s friend. Saul’s brother, Garm, was found dead in an alley outside of a fundraiser for a political candidate. The woman was also the target of a hit at the same coffee shop Saul works at.” Jason gave the slim man a once-over and lowered his gaze to the high-priced cross-trainer shoes. “One question. Can you outrun me?”
“Of course, I can outrun you, Detective Burnett,” Larry replied with a snakelike hiss. “Too bad for you, I have an alibi for the time of the coffee shop incident. I was with my father at a design seminar he was giving at the fashion institute. Many people saw me there.”
“Anyone who knows Avery Cockburn, the woman you gave the chocolates to?”
“You’re grasping at straws trying to tie me to the attempted hit and run,” Larry said. “The news says the target was Matt Swanson, not Avery Cockburn. If you must know, which I’m sure you already know, Avery is my friend.”
“Humor me,” Jason said. “Was there anyone at the design seminar besides you and your father who knows Avery?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Larry asked. He swallowed the rest of his gin and tonic.
“Humor me,” Jason repeated. The second request usually worked, because the witness was now realizing he was without a lawyer. At this moment, he wished Jason would leave, so a simple request was likely to be fulfilled.
“Sure.” He rattled off a list of names—mostly design students. One stuck out like a sore thumb, actually two did.
Ivanna Chu and Richie Overton.
Jason thanked Larry and took his phone out to tap in the names. While doing it, he took a silent picture of Larry Leach’s cross-trainer shoes with his phone.
He let himself out, satisfied that he had rattled information so easily out of Larry. There was no crime in giving Avery a box of chocolates, but there was definitely a connection to the hypercompetitive fashion design world. Why would Richie attend a design seminar? As for Ivanna, her attendance showed she was interested in becoming a designer in her own right. No crime in that, but was there a conflict of interest? She worked for Avery and had access to her design notebook. Could she be copying the sketches for her own use or to hand to a competitor?
Who should he speak to next? Ivanna or Richie?
Both needed to be investigated. Since Ivanna hadn’t answered the door at her place, Jason decided to try Richie. He called the congressman’s office and dropped Avery’s name, along with her interest in a pair of tickets Richie had promised her.
The congressional aide flirted with Jason and confirmed Richie’s location at a beach house in Southampton where a fundraiser for his father was being held.
Chapter Twenty-Six
A smile tickled Avery’s face as soon as she stepped through the glass doors of the lobby of Slipstream Entertainment, Damon’s company. The large screen over the receptionist’s desk showed scenes from multiplayer video games. She’d designed most of the video game’s costumes, and she was especially proud of the life-sized models wearing space opera costumes for Damon’s latest venture, Planet Wargames. Movie posters showed the various video games released since the first one, Planet of Thieves.
The receptionist, a brunette named Stacy Sparks, looked up from her computer screen. Avery caught a glimpse of a social media page before she x’d out the window.
“Avery, you got anything for me?” The loudmouthed woman always wanted a favor from her.
“I had a box of chocolates, but I beaned a cop with it,” Avery said, signing in, even though Damon didn’t require her to.
“It’s not chocolate I want,” Stacy said. “Think you can get me an autograph from Matt Swanson?”
Typical Stacy. Only thinking of herself.
“My sister almost lost her life, and all you can think of is getting Swanson’s autograph?” Damon’s booming voice came from the direction of the elevator.
Apparently, Damon was on the same wavelength. It was a twin thing.
“Oh, my!” Stacy clapped a hand over her mouth. “Wasn’t Matt such a hero? He saved your life. And now, someone’s threatening him. Do you have any idea how hard it is for Matt to be dating you?”
Avery ignored Stacy when she saw Damon’s first two employees, Cory Adams and Eliza Lewis, exit the elevator. While Cory was your typical engineer, Eliza was a sharp-eyed and sharp-nosed financial genius. She was the one who finagled the deals with the investment bankers on the preliminary rounds of funding.
“Avery, I’m so glad you’re okay,” Eliza said, reaching for a hug. As a female, she was free to dole out hugs whereas poor Cory, who had a crush on Avery, had to hold back.
Cory was harmless, though. He was a typical engineer who spent more time in front of the computer screen than on personal hygiene and grooming. He was friendly and personable, and Damon was always on Avery’s case to spruce him up a bit and make him more presentable.
After Eliza released her, Avery held her hand out to Cory.
“Slipstream!” Cory hailed her with his trademark greeting. “Boy, am I glad to see you safe. Are you okay? That’s a large bruise on your head.”
“I’m okay. It looks worse than it feels.” She shook his pudgy paw. “Heard you and Damon had an all-night coding session. How’s the latest game coming along?”
“We had to undo most of it,” Cory said. “But we got plenty of pizza for tonight.”
“Avery isn’t here for the pizza,” Damon interrupted. “I got her a chicken salad. Do we have the Club Cockburn demo ready?”
“You bet!” Cory lifted his hand for a high five. He used to hang out at skate parks, and he was always high-fiving or low-fiving people.
Avery slapped his hand. “I can’t wait to see the demo.”
Damon’s latest business venture was a virtual dating app called Club Cockburn, offering love and romance in a gaming world. It was a great idea for people who didn’t actually want to physically meet their romantic partners, at least not at first. Obviously, it would appeal to a different audience from the quickie hookup crowd.
“Are you okay with the duplicated name?” Eliza asked. “I know you two are in completely different businesses, but there could be confusion on Wall Street.”
“It’s fine. I don’t own the Cockburn name,” Avery said. The new dating service would be technically Club Cockburn Dating App whereas her fashion label was Club Cockburn Designs.
“Since you were first to trademark Club Cockburn Designs,
Eliza wants you to sign an agreement.” Damon led the way to the elevator. “Why don’t we talk about it after the demo?”
“Will you be the first guinea pig?” Avery glanced at her twin’s womanizer features which he rarely used, being oblivious and more interested in computer code than mating and dating rituals.
“Me? No way,” Damon said, pointing to himself with his thumb. “I don’t have time for a virtual romance.”
“Can’t sell a service you’re not willing to use,” Avery teased.
“I’m going to use it,” Cory volunteered. “Who knows? I might meet a sweet girl next door, especially if I code in all the right romantic lines to use.”
“He’s scanning ebooks of romance novels to fill in for his avatar,” Eliza said. “But what we need help on are the fashions.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” Avery followed them to the conference room.
Alida Adams sat at the presenter’s seat, fiddling with her laptop.
Avery’s smile faded, although she forced herself to reignite it. Damon was free to hire whoever he wanted, but why hadn’t he mentioned Alida to her?
“I believe you already know Miss Adams,” Damon said. “She’s agreed to be the public face of Club Cockburn. She’ll be running publicity for our launch.”
“She’s my sister.” Cory held his hand near his mouth conspiratorially. “She wants to use this app to set me up.”
“It will be great publicity for both Cory and Damon to find mates through virtual dating,” Alida said without missing a beat. “This concept will go viral, and I’m excited to be on board.”
“For a share of founder’s stock,” Eliza muttered in a low voice to Avery.
“Will there be a problem?” Avery asked when she and Eliza went to the coffee machine, hopefully out of earshot of Alida.
“I don’t trust her,” Eliza said in a low voice. “She’s too grasping, and she’s already talking about concocting a storybook romance out of this for Cory.”
“Cory’s a nice guy. I’ll be glad for him if he finds his soulmate virtually.” Avery did like Cory, but on the surface, he was hard to look at. His beard was untrimmed, and he was out of shape from downing too many sugary soft drinks and snacking on pretzels and peanuts all day and night long.
Triggered by Love Page 18