Cameron told me. "I believed her and she told me stuff."
"Do you think Moxie and Tanya broke up because of what was happening? Maybe Tanya didn't believe her either?"
He thought about his answer for a few seconds. "Sorta, but not really. She and Tanya talked a lot about what was going on. I think at first Tanya wanted to believe it was just a string of bad luck. Who wouldn't?
But I think little things started happening to her too. They were getting really freaked out. Dad was right about one thing. Moxie did want to get out of Saskatoon. She was scared there,, She thought it was dangerous to stay in Saskatoon. She thought if she came home, she'd be safe. Tanya couldn't understand that and besides, she didn't want to come live in Moose Jaw. She didn't know anyone here or have a job or family here." The young man gave me a meaningful look. "I don't know if they split up so much as fear drove them apart."
"Did Moxie have any idea who was doing this to her?"
He shook his head. "No, and that's what was driving her 'round the bend. She couldn't think of who or why or how they were doing all this shit to her. Moxie was a really nice person. She was a really good sister." He stopped for a second to swallow a lump in his throat. "Everybody else liked her too. I can't think of who'd want to do this to her either. She was really scared, Mr. Quant."
I nodded my sympathy. "So she broke up with Tanya in March and moved back to Moose Jaw, in with your sister and brother-in-law?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know if she experienced any more harassment after she returned to Moose Jaw?"
He pasted his sorrowful eyes onto mine. "She's dead, isn't she?"
I was back in Saskatoon and in my office by 11 a.m. Wednesday morning, busily labelling and filling file folders. For each of my cases, I have a billing folder, a correspondence folder, a suspect folder and my personal favourite, a Herrings folder. In the Herrings folder I place information I have yet to follow up on or don't really know what to do with. Generally these are the bits and pieces I pick up or hear about during a case that usually end up meaning absolutely nothing, but, instead of allowing them to burrow around in my brain, I put them in the Herrings file, knowing I've put them someplace safe where I can revisit them whenever I need to (if ever). I was adding a few notes to the Culinare Herrings file when I decided to call upon Constable Darren Kirsch for a little help.
"Why do ya keep calling me?" Darren asked with a crumbly edge to his deep voice. "Don't ya know there are other police officers who could take your call?"
"I've grown accustomed to the sound of your voice," I drooled flirtatiously, just the way he hates it. I could almost hear his cheeks grow red over the phone line. "And I like to check in to see how you're doing from time to time."
"Well, I don't have time for girlfriend chatter, Quant, so you better have a crime to report-or better yet, a change of address, let's say to Timbuktu. If not, I'm hanging up."
I chuckled. I love Darren's wan attempts at keeping up with me in terms of caustic humour and sarcastic wit. The rigid, stick-up-the ass gene he got saddled with at birth, however, ensures he must always fail.
But I like that he keeps trying.
"Do you have any buddies in the Moose Jaw Police?" I asked, ready for business. "I'm wondering about a Moose Jaw woman, formerly a resident of Saskatoon, who drowned in the local pool."
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D: BOOKS/Anthony Bidulka - Russell Quant Mystery/Anthony B...
"Sad story, but why do I care?" Darren shot back, playing the tough-nosed cop that I suspected he really wasn't. I could hear him rustling papers. Ah, the never-ending paperwork of a cop. I missed it not.
"I'm wondering if maybe it wasn't an accident."
That stopped him. He took a deep breath and asked carefully, "Why do you wonder that?"
"The victim had just moved back home to live with her sister because she'd been having some harassment
"Do you think Moxie and Tanya broke up because of what was happening? Maybe Tanya didn't believe her either?"
He thought about his answer for a few seconds. "Sorta, but not really. She and Tanya talked a lot about what was going on. I think at first Tanya wanted to believe it was just a string of bad luck. Who wouldn't?
But I think little things started happening to her too. They were getting really freaked out. Dad was right about one thing. Moxie did want to get out of Saskatoon. She was scared there,, She thought it was dangerous to stay in Saskatoon. She thought if she came home, she'd be safe. Tanya couldn't understand that and besides, she didn't want to come live in Moose Jaw. She didn't know anyone here or have a job or family here." The young man gave me a meaningful look. "I don't know if they split up so much as fear drove them apart."
"Did Moxie have any idea who was doing this to her?"
He shook his head. "No, and that's what was driving her 'round the bend. She couldn't think of who or why or how they were doing all this shit to her. Moxie was a really nice person. She was a really good sister." He stopped for a second to swallow a lump in his throat. "Everybody else liked her too. I can't think of who'd want to do this to her either. She was really scared, Mr. Quant."
I nodded my sympathy. "So she broke up with Tanya in March and moved back to Moose Jaw, in with your sister and brother-in-law?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know if she experienced any more harassment after she returned to Moose Jaw?"
He pasted his sorrowful eyes onto mine. "She's dead, isn't she?"
I was back in Saskatoon and in my office by 11 a.m. Wednesday morning, busily labelling and filling file folders. For each of my cases, I have a billing folder, a correspondence folder, a suspect folder and my personal favourite, a Herrings folder. In the Herrings folder I place information I have yet to follow up on or don't really know what to do with. Generally these are the bits and pieces I pick up or hear about during a case that usually end up meaning absolutely nothing, but, instead of allowing them to burrow around in my brain, I put them in the Herrings file, knowing I've put them someplace safe where I can revisit them whenever I need to (if ever). I was adding a few notes to the Culinare Herrings file when I decided to call upon Constable Darren Kirsch for a little help.
"Why do ya keep calling me?" Darren asked with a crumbly edge to his deep voice. "Don't ya know there are other police officers who could take your call?"
"I've grown accustomed to the sound of your voice," I drooled flirtatiously, just the way he hates it. I could almost hear his cheeks grow red over the phone line. "And I like to check in to see how you're doing from time to time."
"Well, I don't have time for girlfriend chatter, Quant, so you better have a crime to report-or better yet, a change of address, let's say to Timbuktu. If not, I'm hanging up."
I chuckled. I love Darren's wan attempts at keeping up with me in terms of caustic humour and sarcastic wit. The rigid, stick-up-the ass gene he got saddled with at birth, however, ensures he must always fail.
But I like that he keeps trying.
"Do you have any buddies in the Moose Jaw Police?" I asked, ready for business. "I'm wondering about a Moose Jaw woman, formerly a resident of Saskatoon, who drowned in the local pool."
48 of 163
3/15/2011 10:56 PM
D: BOOKS/Anthony Bidulka - Russell Quant Mystery/Anthony B...
"Sad story, but why do I care?" Darren shot back, playing the tough-nosed cop that I suspected he really wasn't. I could hear him rustling papers. Ah, the never-ending paperwork of a cop. I missed it not.
"I'm wondering if maybe it wasn't an accident."
That stopped him. He took a deep breath and asked carefully, "Why do you wonder that?"
"The victim had just moved back home to live with her sister because she'd been having some harassment
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