Jason dropped another bill in the man’s greedy paw. “How about these folks?”
He showed him the picture of all the models surrounding Ivanna.
“That’s the girl.” He pointed at Tatiana Renzi. “And this guy. I think he’s a firefighter. I’ve seen him with her this weekend, and the Asian chick, she was with Saul.”
“This weekend?” Jason tried to keep the shock from his voice. Ivanna was in the hospital, so it was possible Saul was with another Asian female who resembled her, or Ziko was mistaken.
“He came by with her Saturday night. They got high, and then they left. He must be with her, because he ain’t come back.”
“By the way, did Saul ever mention his brother?”
“All the time, man. He says he wants to get the guys who killed his bro. He bought a piece. He’s always showing it to me.” The man held out his hand, making swishing movements between his thumb and fingers.
Jason gave him another payment. “Thanks, that’s very helpful. You call me when he gets back.”
“I will. You can call me Ziko. Oh, and if you’re looking for that firefighter, he’s one of the patos.”
“Do you know the firefighter’s name?” The man looked familiar.
“Trent,” Ziko said. “He goes upstairs to the rest of the patos. They call themselves Brooklyn Babes.”
“You mean the models?”
“Yeah, you into that too?” Ziko gave Jason a side-eyed smirk.
Jason nodded and turned away from Ziko who shut his door. According to that guy, all the models were gay, which was what Avery had hinted at. But if that was what the professor was expecting, why had she brought Brando to the private show?
Unless … But of course, Brando had insisted.
The firefighter was in love with Avery. There was no way he would let Avery get into a dangerous situation without him. He must have assured her he would be okay—that he would turn down the professor’s overtures and that would be that.
Could the professor have had him killed for rebuffing him?
If so, Larry could have easily arranged it. If Larry was working with Saul, then he could have been introduced to Ernesto by Saul to do the hit job.
In fact, Saul could be the next hitman.
Jason opened the metal door and stepped into the stairwell. He called Avery. She was either busy or on the phone, so he dropped her a voicemail.
“Be careful with Saul. Don’t speak to him or let him into your apartment. I’ll explain later.”
The model apartments were located on the second floor with several dorm-sized rooms, a communal bathroom, and a mattress laid on the floor of the common area near the stairs. The bedroom doors were open, and Jason could see rows of bunk beds crammed inside. The smell of burnt hair and grease was oppressive, and fast-food containers littered the area underneath the stairs. In one of the rooms, a skeletal black man lounged on the lower bunk nearest the door. He had an electric fan pointed at him full blast.
“May I speak to you for a sec?” Jason asked.
The man opened his eyes. “You’re not a cop, are you?”
He had a lilting foreign accent.
“No, I’m looking for my brother. He used to live here.” He showed the man a picture of Joselito.
“Don’t know him,” the skinny man said. “I just got here.”
“Which agency do you work for?”
“Starbright. We all work for them.” The man gave a lazy wave at the empty bunk beds, most of them unmade and littered with clothes and makeup.
“You walking in Manhattan Fashion Week this year?” Jason asked.
“I wish. No, that’s where the rest of them went. To the Madison Square Garden.”
“Have you gotten any work yet? Do any parties?” He lifted his eyebrows as a signal.
The new arrival’s smile gleamed bright. “I do parties. I do them cheap. Fifty bucks a night. Don’t tell the agency.”
“I’ll need references,” Jason said. “You have any I can check?”
“Sure,” the man said. “I’m Jaheem. Everyone says Jaheem give good time. I don’t cause trouble. No drugs. I’m clean.”
“Names?”
The man swung his long, lanky legs off the bunk bed and bent over, digging underneath. He opened a spiral bound notebook and tore off a sheet. On it, he scribbled several phone numbers.
“Don’t call the agency,” Jaheem says. “They take twenty percent both ways. That’s forty percent plus tax. I still owe them for the plane ticket and the clothes. They deduct everything, and I get nothing. I borrow for food.”
“Who are these guys?” Jason pointed to the numbers.
“Off book. Not through the agents.”
“They got names?”
“No names.” The man wouldn’t meet Jason’s gaze. “The party bookers might not pick up. You have to leave a message. Ask them if Jaheem cause any trouble. It’s the Americans who are bad, not me.”
“What kind of trouble do they cause?” Jason asked.
“Saying no. I never say no. Even dried up old ladies. No problem. Sandwich or oreo cookie. I do all.” The man wrote his own name and number. “You call me anytime.”
“Good to know, Jaheem. I’ll give you a call.” Jason pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to him.
“You want blow job now?”
“No, no, you keep that. Advance.”
The man put his hands together in a prayerful position and bowed, thanking him.
“Girlfriend, I’m onto it.” Kerry squealed as she flipped through the Manhattan Fashion Week program and the lookbook of the models. “Such good-looking people.”
“We have the world to choose from,” Avery said, taking printouts from her printer. “Here are the outfits they’re supposed to wear. Let’s match their pictures and then we can go to the warehouse and pick out the accessories. We’ll need to recreate all of these animal effects, especially the porcupine Mohawk I’m putting on Jason.”
“Hee, hee, hee.” Kerry giggled. “I can’t wait to meet this Jason. Sounds like he’s poked his barb under your skin all right.”
Avery giggled right back at her girlfriend. It was easier to pretend everything was hunky-dory than to admit how worried she was bringing Jason to the professor’s house. What was she thinking? He was looking forward to it because he thought of it as part of his investigation.
For his sake, she hoped the professor would back off once he found out Jason was a cop. Maybe he’d stop at stripping down to his boxers, a dance or two, and let it go.
Avery twirled a hawk feather. “I love going through all the bling and surprising myself.”
“I love shopping, even if it’s not for myself.” Kerry swept her long blond hair into a bun and rolled up her sleeves. She arranged the printout of the model photos with the printout of their outfits, taping them side by side and putting them into a scrapbook in the correct order.
“We can go to the warehouse after meeting the models at The Garden,” Avery said, checking each model off as they returned her text message. “First thing is to take attendance when we arrive and call any stragglers. We don’t have much time to walk them through the venue.”
The Garden was an expensive location, and booking even the one hour it took to set up, do the fashion show, and clean up was exorbitant, if it weren’t for Matt Swanson covering part of the cost.
She saw the call come in from Jason, but she was busy texting the models and setting up the walkthrough. She’d call him back later.
“You really got the football player to model for you?” Kerry stared at Matt’s glossy photo. “He’s a real looker. If I didn’t have Finn, I’d …”
“He’s definitely not as nice as Finn.”
“I saw how he dipped you on the sidewalk. Was that part of the act?” Kerry asked.
Avery didn’t want to admit she’d been surprised. “Yeah, we’re supposed to be dating, but I haven’t returned any of his calls.”
“Will he be at The Garden?
What about the president’s daughter?” Kerry picked up the glamour shot of Diamante Steele.
“The Secret Service cancelled it.” Avery hit herself on the forehead. “How did I forget? Is it possible for you to take her place?”
“Who me? You bet!” Kerry put her palms together. “But who’s going to make sure the models are in line?”
“You’ll go right near the end, before I do my ramp walk, so everything should be fine.”
“Bet Matt Swanson’s disappointed he won’t meet the president’s daughter.”
“I’m guessing he’s the reason they canceled. He’s still claiming he was the target of the hit and run attempt.”
“He probably was the target,” Kerry said. She watched network news and believed most of their fables.
Avery saw no reason to correct her, especially since she, too, would rather not believe it had anything to do with Ivanna’s attack.
“I’ll be so glad when this show’s over,” Avery said. “I need a vacation.”
“Come to Hawaii and catch some waves. I’m working on a new line of wetsuits and beachwear.”
“I look forward to it. Let’s plan on it.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“What do you have there?” Jason’s partner, Blade, flipped through the printouts of the model pictures.
“They’re all connected,” Jason said. “Larry Leach, Harvey Leach, Ivanna Chu, this fireman named Trent, and Tatiana Renzi, the anger management therapist. I went to the Brooklyn place where the models are shacked up and spoke to a couple of their neighbors.”
“Even if they know each other, which isn’t a stretch since they’re all in the same business, what does this have to do with the shooting last year?”
Jason grinned widely as he flicked out his coup de grace. “The witness says Ernesto Gomez, the shooter, was paid half but didn’t get the other half because he died. He also ties Saul with the rich dude who paid Ernesto, and get this, he identified Ivanna as the chick with Saul Saturday night smoking weed, and Tatiana as Joselito’s girlfriend.”
“All this from one nosy guy?”
“Ziko’s his name, and here’s his address. Let’s run a check on him. I also got the four-one-one on a model named Jaheem who gave me two numbers for model bookers—off agency.” He unfolded the piece of paper with the phone numbers.
“Burnett, what the hell are you doing here?” It was the chief’s grouchy voice. “You’re on sick leave.”
“I didn’t call in sick,” Jason retorted.
Chief Grimes glared at him and slapped a form on the table. “Stress disability. Signed off by your therapist, Dr. Renzi. Now, get out of here.”
Jason caught Blade gulp and stiffen. His eyes darted away, and he pretended to be adjusting his phone settings.
“You had something to do with this?” Jason drilled Blade in front of the chief.
“You punched me out of anger, and you’re dogging that model lady. You need to simmer down,” Blade said.
“Don’t tell me what I need.” Jason gathered up his photos and evidence. “A young lady was hurt. She’s in a coma, and I’ve got a lead on the perp.”
“Young ladies get mugged every day,” the chief said. “It’s not your case, and I haven’t heard she’s in a coma. Who told you?”
“Her sister.” Jason wasn’t going to let on that he’d heard thirdhand from Avery. “Look, I have a lead on the guy who beaned her.”
“It’s DeBrassos’s case, and I want you out of here,” the chief said.
Vinnie DeBrassos was the mayor’s son who had the ear of the top brass. Why was he put on a supposed minor and unimportant case?
“Vinnie will want to hear my lead,” Jason said. “The same guy attacked me, and I have a description of his shoe.”
“Give me your badge and gun,” Chief Grimes demanded. “You’re on leave until you’re cleared by the psychologist. Be glad I’m not putting you on desk duty or parking.”
Jason unholstered his gun and placed his badge on the desk. “You’re going to wish you kept me on duty.”
“Is that a threat?” the chief blustered. “Because I’m getting tired of your attitude.”
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” Jason marched out of the precinct with as much dignity as he could preserve. Now that he’d gone rogue, there would be no holds barred at getting to the truth—no matter who was implicated.
Avery and Kerry alighted from a taxi in front of The Garden. Several models, including Trent Gallagher, Brando’s firefighter friend, were waiting for her.
He greeted Avery warmly with a hug
His woman friend, Jayla, waved enthusiastically. “If anyone doesn’t show, can I be in the lineup?”
Another extra, who Avery didn’t recognize, said, “I’m practically sure the president’s daughter isn’t showing. I’m the same height and weight.”
Avery was about to tell them Kerry was the substitute when Alida spilled out of a cab and gestured frantically. “Have you seen Matt? He’s not answering his phone, and none of his teammates have seen him.”
“He texted just now saying he’ll be here,” Avery said, showing Alida her phone. “I’m sure he’s on his way.”
“I hope so.” Alida’s frown darkened. “We can’t have any fuckups. The president’s daughter cancelling is bad enough. They claim it’s because of the attack on you and Matt.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Kerry said. “I’m sure the show will go off without a hitch.”
“Break a leg,” Jayla said. “I’m available to be an extra any time.”
“So am I,” the other woman said to Avery. “I’m Mimi, Jayla’s friend.”
“Where’s Tatiana?” Kerry asked as she checked through the list.
“Let me call her,” Avery touched her phone, but it rang with a call from Jason. She picked it up to get rid of him. “I’m in the middle of model walkthrough. Can’t talk.”
“Where?”
“At The Garden.”
“Evacuate it now. Someone called in a bomb threat.”
“We’re not inside.” She gasped, looking around.
“Get out of there,” he shouted. “I’m on my way.”
“What’s going on?” Mimi, who was standing next to Avery, squeaked. “I heard him say bomb threat?”
Avery had the attention of all the gathered models. They gaped at her in shock.
“I don’t know how credible this is, but we need to move away from The Garden.” She grabbed Kerry’s arm. “Jason says there’s a bomb threat.”
Police sirens screamed through the traffic.
Alida jumped in front of a taxi, waving wildly. She grabbed the door before Jayla and Mimi made a dive for it.
Several more models squeezed into the cab after Alida, and the cab made a U-turn, trying to escape.
The crowd converged, some running toward The Garden to see the excitement, while the police directed others to stay back.
Someone grabbed Avery’s arm. “Come with me.”
It was Saul.
“What’s going on?” Avery asked.
“I called in a bomb threat.” He led Avery and Kerry toward Penn station.
“Why?” she asked, perplexed.
“There’s something fishy going on. I don’t know what, but you need a change in venue.”
“You mean The Garden isn’t safe?”
“I can’t tell you more; just get out of here.” He jumped over the turnstile and disappeared.
Jason was waiting for Avery and Kerry when they emerged from a cab.
“I heard everything.” His phone was pressed against his ear. “Your phone’s still on.”
“Oh.” Avery fished it from her purse and stared blankly at it. Her heart was still racing from the flight from The Garden and Saul’s warning.
“We need to talk,” Jason said. “Is there anywhere private?”
“My apartment.” She held her cardkey against the sensor.
“No, let’s go to your brother’s pla
ce.” He held the door. “Your place might be wired.”
“By who?” She glanced at Kerry who shrugged.
“Someone is one step ahead of me,” Jason said. “I’m suspecting it’s that barista friend of yours.”
“Saul?”
“Yes, Saul. I’ll explain.”
Avery let herself into Damon’s pad. It was a mess, like a tornado had hurled fast-food wrappers, pillows, game controllers, and sweatpants, among other things.
“Damon? You here?” she asked, but it was pretty obvious from the lack of music that her brother wasn’t home. He always had either the stereo on or a video game soundtrack going.
She swept off a spot on the couch and sat down next to Jason with Kerry on the other side. Butterflies jittered in her stomach, and her heart was skipping like she was about to have a panic attack.
“You okay?” Jason held both of her hands. “Do you want some water?”
“No, tell me what’s going on. Saul said he called in a bomb threat because something’s up. He doesn’t know what.”
“Didn’t you get my message?” Jason barked, his eyes widening. “Saul is the danger. He’s trying to trick you into thinking he’s on your side.”
Jason explained what he found out about Saul, how he wanted to avenge his brother’s death.
“Don’t you get it? He could be upset at you for putting his brother in touch with the Leaches. Garm was found outside of Professor’s Leach’s Upper Eastside penthouse. I ran the address after you gave it to me.”
“He wouldn’t hurt us,” Avery protested. “I know him. He wants to be a fashion photographer.”
“You’re too trusting. Didn’t you give him passes to the show?”
“I did, but if he wanted to do something bad, why would he call in a bomb threat and screw my show?”
Jason rubbed his chin and nodded. “I’m sure he has a reason. Maybe he wants to move the venue to a place more conducive.”
“How the heck will we find a place three days before the show?” Avery slapped her thighs and stomped her feet. “I’m totally screwed. Did you see all the models run away?”
“I’m sure Alida can come up with something, but here’s the deal. The new location has to be top secret.”
Triggered by Love Page 28
