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variety of papers, all open to the obituaries with a few clippings of Janey’s death lying near a pair of scissors.
    A coffee mug on the table didn’t contain coffee. I could smell the whiskey without having to concentrate too much. Mike gave a half-hearted sad smile with no hint of an apology.
    “It’s been a rough couple of days.” He picked up the mug. His fingers gripped the ceramic so tightly I was afraid it would shatter. “We’re just… It’s been a shock.”
    “I’m sure.” I pulled my notebook out of my right pocket and flipped it open. “I’m sorry for your loss.” The words were trite, but true. I glanced at the photos spread across the walls between flower arrangements. Kids on horses, kids on hay wagons, kids at amusement parks with silly grins on their faces. One wedding picture with an ungodly number of people in the background, probably family and friends on both sides. “How are they holding up?”
    “Mad. Sad. Angry.” He glanced at the level of whiskey in his mug and frowned. “I’m thinking of sending them up to the farm for a few days and letting them run free, work it out of their system. After the funeral, of course.”
    I nodded. “Might be for the best.” A pair of wild cats dashing out and about on the estate wouldn’t be noticed and Ruth would probably welcome the chance to mother them to death. “Kids are pretty resilient. You’d be surprised what they can work out when they’re on their own.” A stray lock of blond hair flipped across my face as I spoke, forcing me to tuck it back behind one ear.
    “I guess.” He finished his drink and put the empty mug down on the table beside the cut pieces of paper. “Guess this is a little morbid, eh?” The man waved a hand over the clipped newspapers with a nervous chuckle.
    “Not really. Give the kids something to remember her by.” I picked up one of the obits. “You had her cremated.”
    “As per the rules.” He let out a low squeaky sigh, startling me. “I wish it didn’t have to be that way, but…”
    I nodded my agreement with the statement.
    “Tell me about that night, if you don’t mind.” I dropped my voice to what I hoped was a low, comforting tone. “I know you’ve told the police, but…”
    “But you’re kin.” A weak smile settled on his face. “She was working late that night, said something about making sure the school projects were graded before she came home. It was a bit of a mess at the school. Some jokers had scribbled crap on the walls the day before and everyone was out of sorts.” He glanced at the black-and-white photograph at the top of the obituary. A contented light-haired woman beamed back. “Kids.”
    I nodded, encouraging him with my silence.
    “She called me at about five, said she was leaving the school. Turns out her car wouldn’t start. We’d been having problems with the Toyota for weeks, nothing new there. She would have walked to the nearest streetcar stop.”
    “On Queen.” I filled in the gaps. “That would have been the quickest way home.”
    He nodded, staring at the tabletop. “Except she didn’t make it for dinner. Then I waited and waited.” A deep sigh echoed around the two of us. “By nine I knew something was wrong. Then the police showed up at the door.” Mike let out another pained sigh, huffing in stages. “I could smell their fear about giving me the news, can you believe it?” His eyes darted up to meet mine, suddenly feral. “Cops, afraid of me. Like I’m a bad guy. Hell, the worst thing I’ve done is keep stale bread on the shelves a day too long.”
    “It’s a tough thing to do.” I felt strange standing up for the police. “Delivering bad news, it’s hard to predict how people will react. Some cry, some lash out at the messengers.” I extended a finger to tap her picture with my nail. “She’d probably have ripped them to shreds if it had been the other way around.”
    A choked laugh came out. “Oh, for sure. Janey, she never