Page 75 of Triggered By Love
“I’m your twin, Avery. I know why you took drugs.”
“We’re ready for the demo,” Alida’s voice closed in. Had she heard?
Avery poured sugar and cream into her coffee and turned away from her twin. He couldn’t have known, because if he did, why didn’t he tell and why didn’t he help?
* * *
Finding Richie presented no problem.The guy was active on social media and was hosting a beach party at his father’s Southampton mansion located on the famed “Billionaire Lane.”
Jason checked the time. He’d be fashionably late at best. After changing into casual evening beach chic, he donned a pair of blocky flattop sunglasses and headed east on the Long Island Expressway.
The drive gave him time to think. His instincts had never failed him—except for the moment when the shooter pointed his gun straight at him and Alida. That brief instant when he stared down the empty black hole had torn the shout from his mouth.
Get down!
Why had the shooter chosen the final moment of the show? Had the split-second delay caused Brando to move in front of Avery?
No matter what. Avery would always associate him with that fatal instant in time. It was frozen in her mind. His shout, the shots, Brando dead.
His only chance to heal the rift was finding the murderer and assuring Avery she was completely safe. It was more than his job. It was his calling.
The beachfront property was well maintained, with every hedge and bush trimmed symmetrically along the private tree-lined drive. As expected, a pair of armed security guards stood at the entrance gate, checking credentials.
Jason flashed his badge, and the mustachioed guard frowned. “This is a private party. You’re not on the guest list.”
“I have information Mr. Richard Overton would find most interesting,” Jason said.
“Then contact his assistant,” the guard said. “Turn around.”
“This is a private matter. I don’t think Mr. Overton would relish his assistant getting wind of it. Call him and tell him I came for the Schitts tickets.”
“No can do. If you know him so well, you can leave a message or have him courier them to you.”
“He’ll know who I’m speaking about. Remember, the Schitts tickets.” Jason raised the window of the convertible which already had the top up. Instead of pulling off to the side, he stayed in the center of the drive.
A car pulled behind him. It was followed by a second car and a limousine.
The guard tapped on the window, gesturing for him to leave. Jason wore the gangster-style sunglasses and sat still with his service revolver ready. He’d already shown his badge. The guard would be stupid to try and force him off the property.
He could be very patient when needed, and so he waited.
The limousine passenger apparently was not as patient. The driver exited and ambled by Jason, giving him a pointed glare. He spoke to the guard who got on the phone.
Jason was sure he wouldn’t get the local police involved. These parties served drugs and trafficked in sexual encounters. This was how a social influencer gained power over politicians and corporate bosses. Combination of carrot and stick: fundraising with movie stars, celebrities, and an occasional prince or princess. Questionable drug and sexual encounters were captured on video with irrefutable evidence. These activities resulted in big payoffs in terms of contracts for pet projects, funneling of aid money, favoritism for ambassadorships, boardroom positions, and cabinet appointments.
Sure enough, the gate opened, and the guard looked the other way as Jason drove by. Large shade trees provided cover for the well-tended lawn. A reflecting pool flanked by ornamental pear trees led up to a fountain in front of the circular driveway.
The mansion was a clean and immaculate study in classical architecture. Large white columns spanned the height of the structure and were prominent on both sides of the covered portico. Valets and footmen were stationed to greet the guests and park their cars.
The part of the property adjacent to the beach included a sand volleyball court, a putting green, and several badminton nets over the green lawn. Young, lithe, and beautiful women frolicked in bikinis with equally young and sleek men.
Jason handed the keys to a valet and sauntered through the elaborately decorated entry door. He was immediately met by three men coming down the stairs.
“Come with us quietly,” a large burly man with a gray beard said. “You were not on the guest list.”
“I only want a few words with Mr. Overton, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Hand me those shades.” The man held out his hand. “I want to see the whites of your eyes at all times.”
