Page 96 of Triggered By Love
Her knees weak, Avery pushed off the sofa and tried not to wobble as she made her way to the kitchen. She felt like she was going around in circles.
If she hadn’t volunteered that she knew Harvey Leach, Jason would have dropped her off and gone on to do his own investigations.
Except he had Ivanna’s notebook, and Avery had to stick to him and monitor who he was suspecting or questioning. One thing her father taught them was to keep friends close, but frenemies even closer. Jason wasn’t an enemy. Not in the classical sense, but his investigation was way overboard, like throwing napalm instead of a surgical strike.
He could hit on any number of irrelevant secrets.
She couldn’t let that happen.
* * *
Jason wasn’ta guy who wore kid gloves, but Avery was on shaky ground. She was holding something back and discrediting Harvey’s testimony before he’d even begun questioning.
He followed Avery into the kitchen and brewed the coffee, sorry that he’d been too bossy, as usual.
But he kept up the interrogation. “Since Harvey isn’t a reliable witness, I’d like you to tell me everything you know about the Leach family and how Ivanna came to know them.”
He stirred sugar and cream into her coffee, brought the mugs back to the living room, adjusted the throw pillows for her, and dimmed the lights. He didn’t want to appear too eager, and he especially didn’t want to let on that the man in the painting resembled the man who had tried to run Avery down.
If Avery also suspected Harvey, why hadn’t she come clean? Her statement had been she hadn’t gotten a good look at the driver.
Could Harvey know something she wanted to hide?
Or could it be Ivanna who was blackmailing Avery—maybe not overtly. A blackmailer wasn’t selective on where her payday came from.
“What does Ivanna do besides outfit models with accessories and herd them for the show?”
For the next fifteen minutes, Jason scribbled as fast as he could while Avery told him the background.
Professor Orson Leach had been her father, General Daniel Cockburn’s best friend growing up. The two families were close in the early years of Avery’s life, but lately, with her father’s decision to go into politics, they found themselves on opposite sides in every issue ranging from gun control to abortion to foreign policy.
Avery had gone into modeling at sixteen, but when she aged out around twenty-two, she’d approached Professor Orson Leach for a recommendation to design school.
“So, basically, you lost touch with the Leach family until four years back,” Jason summarized. “How did Ivanna meet them?”
“Art school. Harvey was like a dragonfly, flitting from this to that. He was a dancer and tried his hand with acting. Ivanna was doing set and costume design at a community college theater. I suppose they bonded because both families disapproved of a career in the arts.”
“Even though Orson himself is a design professor?”
“Exactly. Harvey says Orson didn’t want him to sniff around the underbelly of the art circuit, from who gets put on Broadway shows to who gets on the schedule of a fashion show. But even though he complains, I think Larry fixes jobs for him. Introduced him to Alida.”
“Alida’s name is everywhere. Does she run a modeling agency?”
“She has a finger in one of the elite agencies, yes,” Avery admitted. “It’s a big reason I got a debut last year at Manhattan Fashion Week.”
“I thought it was your relationship with Orson.”
“There are many factors, but none of this leads to Ivanna’s attack. Harvey has to be on good terms with her if he’s posing for a nude painting.”
“Maybe we’re sniffing at a red herring,” Jason admitted. “Except the man who tried to run you down was wearing aviator sunglasses, and Roland said that’s what Harvey wears.”
“You’re basing all this on sunglasses?” Her mouth dropped wide. “Has it occurred to you that sunglasses are a ready-made disguise? Put on a pair of outlandish ones, and that’s all a witness remembers.”
“I’m very well aware. I’m surprised you are. Is that why you push the crazy headdresses and masks on your models?”
For the first time since they arrived at her place, she smiled and her eyes relaxed. “You’re starting to get me. A face and body are blank canvases. The eye is drawn to something out of place, and the mind fixates on that contrasting image.”
“How do you find your models? Are you looking for something unusual?”
