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With only the slightest thinning of his lips, Kohen steps onto the porch and shuts the door behind him, otherwise stoic. He stuffs his hands into his jean pockets and lifts his chin. His way of stating he’ll talk to us, for now.
“When was the last time you recall seeing Ms. Delany?” Rhys asks.
A shrug. “I worked a shift with Jo the day she was killed,” he answers honestly, and with very little emotive tone. He also refers to the victim by a familiar nickname, denoting he knew her better than a coworker or acquaintance.
“Do you remember about what time she left work that evening?” Rhys continues the questioning.
Kohen’s deep-blue eyes shift to me for a second before he directs his attention back to Rhys. “We got off around the same time during the shift changeover. Five-thirty, I think.” His gaze flits my way again.
I tilt my head, considering him, and pull out my notebook. I write down a random note to give myself something to do while keeping my peripheral aware of Kohen. Most people will avoid eye contact for any length of time. It’s common, having an unnerving effect. I’m giving him the opportunity to check me out without catching him to see what he does.
If Rhys notices his conduct, he doesn’t let on. “Did you notice anything odd or alarming about Joanna’s behavior that day? Did she seem worried or upset?”
Kohen shakes his head. “Not that I could tell.”
“When did you leave the Tiki Hive?”
Kohen’s gaze lingers on me as he replies. “Not long after Jo did. I have an alibi, if you’re going to ask where I was during the time of her death.”
Everyone’s seen cop shows. Rhys smirks. “And where were you?”
He crosses his arms, defensive. “I was at my mother’s house. I do the shopping for her.”
“You have a good memory,” I say, drawing his attention on me.
He nods slowly. “Yeah, well, I’ve been in charge of her doctor appointments and medications, and all her shopping for the past three years. I have to have a good memory to keep up with all that, or else bad things happen.”
He’s looking directly into my eyes as he says this last part.
Rhys bristles at the hostility in his tone and moves a fraction closer to me. I’m not fazed. “What does your mother have?” I ask.
“Late osteosarcoma,” he answers.
A chill brushes my skin. “I’m sorry.” He nods, but says nothing else on the matter.
Regardless of his place among this case, I do feel regret for him. After Amber was diagnosed with advanced osteosarcoma, she was never the same. I was never the same. Surgery and chemo failed her after a yearlong battle. The cancer had already spread to her lungs by the time it was discovered.
Watching a loved one deteriorate from this debilitating cancer is isolating, painful.
Amber was twelve when she died.
“Do you mind recounting your whereabouts?” Rhys asks, shifting the subject back on track. “Since you have such a great memory, that shouldn’t be an issue for us to confirm.”
“Sure.” Kohen recites his routine for the day of Joanna’s murder. Work, pharmacy, and then a trip to the grocery store that put him at his mother’s house by approximately six forty-five p.m. Then he spent the evening with her, until about nine-thirty.
“Can anyone corroborate the ti
me you made it back home?” Rhys pushes.
Kohen adjusts his stance. “No. I live alone.”
“Why were you let go from the Tiki Hive?” Rhys changes the topic quickly.
“As you can imagine, my mother’s failing health takes up a lot of my time. My boss didn’t like me coming in late and calling out when I needed to take her to appointments.”
Rhys glances at me, a mental tag-in. “There were a few reports from patrons that you made advances on customers during work,” I say. “According to your former boss, you were caught giving away free drinks to such customers.”
He scoffs. “Those old bats? They’re harmless, but they have some wild imaginations.” He grins at me, teeth white and straight.
