Once Upon a Time by Barbara Fradkin

turf, and I need your experience. You think they’re going to talk to a city boy like me?”
    â€œAnd what the hell are you doing here? You should be home with your wife and son.”
    â€œI promised Sharon and him this evening and the whole day tomorrow. I even promised to paint the living room.” Green had practically had to sell his soul, but he didn’t admit that to Sullivan. Sullivan loved his home, and to him, fun was a weekend spent finishing the basement or restaining the deck. Fifteen years of listening to Sullivan’s do-it-yourself tales had almost put Green off home ownership for good.
    Sullivan turned off the main highway and wove expertly down the narrow country road toward Renfrew. After a few minutes of silence, he shrugged. “Well, she’d better not be holding her breath.”
    Green had no time to think up a comeback before they pulled onto the main street crammed with little shops, and he had to turn his attention to finding the OPP station. The Ontario Provincial Police were housed in the Town Hall, a self-consciously impressive brick building set back behind the town’s war memorial. Inside the grand exterior, the reception area of the OPP was little more than a closet. On the other side of a glass window, a huge uniformed officer was wedged into one of the chairs behind a desk, sipping coffee. He glanced through the glass as the two detectives came in, then leaped to his feet, eyes lighting up.
    â€œJesus, Mary and Joseph! Brian Sullivan!”
    â€œKennelly!” Sullivan had time to reply before the door flung back, and he was clasped into a thumping embrace. When the two separated, Kennelly looked him up and down. They were the same height, broad shouldered and powerfully built, although Kennelly’s midriff sagged even lower than Sullivan’s. He grinned with delight.
    â€œWhat’re you doing back here? Thought you hated these parts.”
    â€œBack for my adrenaline fix,” Sullivan laughed. “I’m with Ottawa CID. This is Mike Green.”
    Sullivan slipped the introductions by casually, without reference to Green’s rank, which would have torpedoed any chance for collegial solidarity. As Green had hoped, Kennelly engulfed his hand in a friendly iron grip, tossed in a greeting, then swung back to Sullivan with a laugh. “Will you look at you! I couldn’t believe it when I heard you were a cop! I thought you were going off to the big city to make a million.”
    Sullivan grinned ruefully. “Well, I made it to the big city, anyway.”
    â€œI used to play football with this guy,” Kennelly said to Green. “We went to the same high school up in Eganville, and I tell you he was one fine mean ball player. I heard you married Mary Connolly. That still on?”
    Sullivan nodded. “Three kids too.”
    â€œOh well, you always were a good Catholic boy. Fell in love with the first girl you laid eyes on and then never looked at another.” He shook his massive head mockingly. “Boy, I tell you, it’s a small world. So is this a social call, or are you boys here to learn a thing or two?”
    â€œA man named Eugene Walker used to own a hardware store here,” Sullivan asked. “Did you know him?”
    â€œNo, but maybe my partner did. He’s been here since the Great Flood.” Kennelly led them inside and bellowed in the direction of the back room. “Tom! Come out and meet a buddy of mine.”
    A smaller, older man emerged from an office behind the main desk and came forward, smiling expectantly. Once the introductions were complete, Sullivan explained their mission.
    â€œYeah, I knew him,” Tom Wells said. “In a small town like this, you get to know pretty near everyone. Walker wasn’t a troublemaker, he kept to himself pretty much. I’m not sure we can be much help to you up here. When I heard he died, I asked around to see if anybody’d heard from