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I’m having a more challenging time buying into the theory that Torrance’s connection to Joanna’s murder is only a coincidence. And the note…slipped under my room door, meant to frighten me away… That can only be intentional. But with only three words to go on, after sleeping on the matter, I’m no longer certain the author is the same person who penned the cryptic note after my attack.
Still, fresh start.
Today we search for the elusive Kohen. We’ll either get answers, or hit a wall. Either way, that item on the checklist gets marked off so we can move on to the next bullet point.
Rhys and I have a system, and it hasn’t failed us yet.
We were able to interview Jamison Smith—the boyfriend—over the phone this morning. He’s out of town on business. Jamison reiterated the same thing he told Detective Vale a year ago. With a little less detail.
This is normal, and bodes well for checking him off our list. Liars tend to elaborate, adding more and more layers to pad their story over time.
The loose sand sticks to my feet as we approach the sunning ladies stretched out on beach chairs just steps from the Tiki Hive’s deck. I set my phone to Record inside my bag. The wind could disrupt the feed, so this way we might get clear statements.
Rhys flashes his badge. “Morning, ladies. I’m Special Agent Rhys Nolan. Could we have a quick word?”
One of the weathered-looking women smiles up at Rhys. “Just a quickie, special agent? I’d like to think we could make it last a bit longer than that.” She elbows her friend to her right, and I swear I see a flush crawl up the back of Rhys’s neck.
The other woman sits forward and shields her eyes as the sun peeks out. “Why do they call y'all special, anyway? That’s what I’d like to know. Got a special package you carry around, do ya?”
Christ. They have no shame. I eye the mimosas next to their chairs. “State law prohibits alcohol on the beach.”
The third woman noticeably rolls her eyes. “Hon, ain’t nobody caring about that.” She looks to her friends. “Seems this one might have a thing for the agent, here. Maybe we should play nice.”
Now I’m the one blushing. My fingers seek the comforting feel of the rubber band against my skin.
Rhys clears his throat and directs the conversation back on topic. “The owner of the Tiki Hive mentioned you might know how we can locate a man named Kohen.”
“Vivian,” the first lady says. “But you can call me Vinnie. And why do you want to know about him for? Lord, that boy was something else.”
Rhys cranes an eyebrow. “Meaning what, exactly, Ms. Vinnie?”
She snorts. “Haven’t been a miss in ages, but thank you, Agent Nolan.” She reaches for her drink. “Kohen was sure nice to look at, but he had this way about him.” She visibly shivers. “Something just seemed off, you know what I mean?”
It’s difficult to read vague statements. People interpret interactions differently, in their own understanding of the world. “He made you uncomfortable,” I say, offering clarity.
Vinnie nods. “Oh, did he ever. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I was flattered a young thing like him was interested, but my warning bell was going off. I have years of experience, and I’ve learned to trust my instincts when it comes to men.”
The other two women nod enthusiastically, offering words of agreement.
“Did Kohen do something in particular to sound your alarm?” Rhys asks.
The woman seated in the middle responds. “This one time, we were up at the bar, and he showed me a picture he had on his phone of this girl all tied up in ropes. Said that’s what he’d like to do to me. Can you imagine?”
I trade a glance with Rhys. “Was this image of someone he knew, or was it from the Internet?” I ask.
The woman shakes her head. “I have no idea. I didn’t ask. I laughed it off as a ludicrous idea, and two days later Mike had fired him, anyway.”
I make a mental note on the timeline. “And your name?”
She smiles. “Angela Moretti.” She spells it out, and then states all their names for the record. “I suppose this is being recorded, too? You being the government and all.”
By law, I have to make them aware. “Yes. I’m recording our conversation, though it’s not for government use. It’s for my personal notes.”
Angela huffs a derisive laugh. “Sure, honey.”
The wind picks up, and Rhys turns his back to shelter us from the sand spray. “We appreciate your honesty and cooperation. Did any of you ladies ever see Kohen and Joanna Delany together?”
“Oh…” Vinnie grins knowingly. “So that’s what this is all about. That poor girl. So tragic. Such a horrible way to die.” She shakes her head. “And her mother, dear lord. Poor thing. But to answer your question, no. Not to my recollection. Kohen wasn’t an outgoing sort; you had to draw him out of his shell. And, well, Joanna was out of his league. That would’ve never happened.”
