despite stylish clothing, careful grooming and a gym membership, he couldn't deny genetics. In thirty years he would be his father; already his belly was expanding over his belt line and youth was melting off his face. "He was the officer who looked after things when Tanya, my sister, died."
I gave them a sympathetic nod. "I heard about Tanya's suicide. I'm sorry for your loss." I wondered what Kirsch thought I could do for these people. Did he think I'd been lying to him? Did he think I'd tell them why their sister and daughter had my phone number with her when she died?
"That's not true!" Anne Culinare spoke for the first time. "She didn't commit suicide." Her light accent was hard to place. Polish maybe.
"Mom," her son warned her off. "Let me handle this. I'm sorry, Mr. Quant, we're all just, well, very upset. You see we buried Tanya on Saturday."
I nodded. I'd seen the obituary in the paper.
"But Mom is right. We don't believe Tanya killed herself."
The mother shook her head but said nothing. The father's sad eyes travelled from wife to son and back again, but never looked directly at me.
"I don't understand," I told the family. "Did Constable Kirsch say something...?"
"No, not really. He said the investigation pointed toward suicide. I got the feeling they weren't going to be looking into things any further. I told him there was no way Tanya would have done that :o herself.
21 of 163
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D: BOOKS/Anthony Bidulka - Russell Quant Mystery/Anthony B...
Never. She wasn't that kind of girl. He said there was nothing the police could do unless we had some proof."
"And do you?"
He hesitated before admitting, "No."
"My Tanya did not do this thing," Mrs. Culinare told me again, but she seemed to have little else to add to the statement of what she believed to be fact.
"Before we left the police station that day," Warren continued, "the officer took me aside, told me your name and said that maybe you could help us."
Really? Darren Kirsch had never referred me to a client before. Most cops never would, unless they thought the police couldn't help any longer. Was that the case here? Did Darren believe there might be something more to find out even though the police were ruling Tanya's death a suicide? He'd obviously not told the Culinares about the paper with my name and phone number on it. But he must still think there might be some connection between me and Tanya Culinare, even if I didn't know what it was myself.
"What kind of help are you looking for?" I asked.
"My parents live in Kindersley, a few hours away by car, and I live in the States, in Washington. There's no other family in Saskatoon, no one who can tell us more about Tanya. You see, our family...well, I hate to admit it, but we didn't know Tanya very well any more. We all ended up living so very far apart; my parents are getting old, and my sister and I are twelve years apart in age and...oh well, I guess there are no good excuses...we always just thought there'd be plenty of time-some other time-to get together. We didn't even spend Christmas together for the last couple of years. We won't make that mistake again." He shared a meaningful look with his parents. "Other things always seemed more important at the time. But, as always, that's a stupid mistake to make in life. Stupid." He stopped there to swallow hard, then continued.
"You're probably wondering why, if we didn't know Tanya well, we're so sure she didn't kill herself."
I was.
"To be blunt, Mr. Quant, I'm not sure." He shot his parents a meek look.
Anne Culinare drew in a sharp, shocked breath. "No, Warren!" she berated her son.
He tried to ignore his mother and kept on. "I'm not as convinced as my parents, but even so, I can't accept a terse, one-line statement from the police as the last word on my sister's life. I need something more than that. I need-we need an explanation. Even if she did kill herself."
Mrs. Culinare began to weep into a wadded ball of Kleenex and
I gave them a sympathetic nod. "I heard about Tanya's suicide. I'm sorry for your loss." I wondered what Kirsch thought I could do for these people. Did he think I'd been lying to him? Did he think I'd tell them why their sister and daughter had my phone number with her when she died?
"That's not true!" Anne Culinare spoke for the first time. "She didn't commit suicide." Her light accent was hard to place. Polish maybe.
"Mom," her son warned her off. "Let me handle this. I'm sorry, Mr. Quant, we're all just, well, very upset. You see we buried Tanya on Saturday."
I nodded. I'd seen the obituary in the paper.
"But Mom is right. We don't believe Tanya killed herself."
The mother shook her head but said nothing. The father's sad eyes travelled from wife to son and back again, but never looked directly at me.
"I don't understand," I told the family. "Did Constable Kirsch say something...?"
"No, not really. He said the investigation pointed toward suicide. I got the feeling they weren't going to be looking into things any further. I told him there was no way Tanya would have done that :o herself.
21 of 163
3/15/2011 10:56 PM
D: BOOKS/Anthony Bidulka - Russell Quant Mystery/Anthony B...
Never. She wasn't that kind of girl. He said there was nothing the police could do unless we had some proof."
"And do you?"
He hesitated before admitting, "No."
"My Tanya did not do this thing," Mrs. Culinare told me again, but she seemed to have little else to add to the statement of what she believed to be fact.
"Before we left the police station that day," Warren continued, "the officer took me aside, told me your name and said that maybe you could help us."
Really? Darren Kirsch had never referred me to a client before. Most cops never would, unless they thought the police couldn't help any longer. Was that the case here? Did Darren believe there might be something more to find out even though the police were ruling Tanya's death a suicide? He'd obviously not told the Culinares about the paper with my name and phone number on it. But he must still think there might be some connection between me and Tanya Culinare, even if I didn't know what it was myself.
"What kind of help are you looking for?" I asked.
"My parents live in Kindersley, a few hours away by car, and I live in the States, in Washington. There's no other family in Saskatoon, no one who can tell us more about Tanya. You see, our family...well, I hate to admit it, but we didn't know Tanya very well any more. We all ended up living so very far apart; my parents are getting old, and my sister and I are twelve years apart in age and...oh well, I guess there are no good excuses...we always just thought there'd be plenty of time-some other time-to get together. We didn't even spend Christmas together for the last couple of years. We won't make that mistake again." He shared a meaningful look with his parents. "Other things always seemed more important at the time. But, as always, that's a stupid mistake to make in life. Stupid." He stopped there to swallow hard, then continued.
"You're probably wondering why, if we didn't know Tanya well, we're so sure she didn't kill herself."
I was.
"To be blunt, Mr. Quant, I'm not sure." He shot his parents a meek look.
Anne Culinare drew in a sharp, shocked breath. "No, Warren!" she berated her son.
He tried to ignore his mother and kept on. "I'm not as convinced as my parents, but even so, I can't accept a terse, one-line statement from the police as the last word on my sister's life. I need something more than that. I need-we need an explanation. Even if she did kill herself."
Mrs. Culinare began to weep into a wadded ball of Kleenex and
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