Page 99 of Triggered By Love
It was Kerry, her surfer friend from Hawaii.
“Hey, girl, you’re in the news these days,” Kerry said. “Hope everything’s okay.”
“It’s been crazy.” Avery slouched on the couch. “I’m fine, though. What are they saying on social media?”
“You’re dating a football player. They try to kill him, and you almost get run over. Then you disappear with a rogue cop who is accused by your brother of kidnapping you. You survive a high-speed crash on the expressway, and your model wrangler is in the hospital in a coma. Did I cover it?”
“All in a single weekend.” She wiped her hand through her sticky hair. “I’m behind on the show prep.”
“Need a hand? I’m arriving at JFK this afternoon, and I’m pretty good with the sewing machine.”
“You’re on,” Avery said, almost squealing.
She and Kerry had so much to catch up on, now that her friend was back on the surfing circuits and dating a hunky Army Ranger. During his vacation breaks, she would meet him at the hottest surfing locations, from Tasmania to Portugal.
“You have a spot in the show for me?” Kerry asked.
She and Avery had met back when Avery modeled surf wear. The organizer had wanted Avery to appear to surf, and Kerry had given her basic lessons so she could stand on a board and look like she was shredding waves.
“How would you like to pose with Matt Swanson?”
“Would I? You know I’m a fan girl.”
“Great. I hope you’re not allergic to feathers.” She giggled, and Kerry giggled along with her.
“Getting kinky, aren’t we? Can’t wait to hear all about you and Matt. Somehow, I didn’t think he’s your type, but if it floats your boat, why not?”
“Why not?” Avery echoed.
“Anything else I can do to help?” Kerry asked. “I’m sure you’ll need someone to line up the models during the show.”
“Not only during, but from the wakeup calls to making sure they’re at their makeup stations, wardrobe, and place in line. Think you can handle it?”
“It can’t be any worse than running a surfing competition,” Kerry said. “I’ll do whatever you need.”
“You’re a lifesaver. Call me when your flight gets in.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jason would have likedto have coffee with Avery, but he had leads to check out and suspects to eliminate. Early in the morning, he stopped by the precinct to make printouts and gather information he had on the model deaths.
Then he called Popo.
She asked him to meet at her apartment above the shop. On the way over, he refreshed his memory on the shooter.
Ernesto Gomez was a twenty-two-year-old illegal alien who worked at The Sting, a dive bar in Soho. The case notes report that the owner and his coworkers were shocked that the mild-mannered and reclusive dishwasher and busboy would have carried out a hit.
No one was sure if he had family, although one of the bartenders thought Ernesto had either a brother or cousin who was an actor or dancer—they weren’t sure.
Ernesto himself was quite ordinary looking, with a face that could be a blank canvas—the type of guy who no one noticed was perfect for hit jobs. Average weight, height, no outstanding features, light tan skin, brown hair cut medium length, no facial hair. Jason had noticed him because of his nervousness and frequent wiping of sweat from his forehead. He had definitely been overdressed for a late summer fashion show taking place in a warehouse basement.
Toxicology reports came back negative for drugs and alcohol, and there were no signs of drug use on the body. According to the supervisor, the young man shared a one-bedroom apartment with five other males, but everyone minded their own business and stayed inside their own chain-link enclosures they built to safeguard their belongings while working.
It was a given none of Ernesto’s flatmates spoke to the police. In fact, several moved out after his death. The super was closemouthed and didn’t give good information, although he was adamant that Ernesto had no girlfriends.Who’d shack up with a guy sleeping inside a cage?
Jason let himself up the side stairs after Popo buzzed him through the iron gate. Laundry fluttered on clotheslines that stretched between the buildings. Air conditioners hummed from the closed windows, and the humid scent of trash steamed up from the alley below.
Jason reached the landing and knocked on Popo’s heavy steel door. She opened it immediately. Glancing around, she invited him in.
