Maybe it had something to do with that girl Elena, when he was a kid?

Fortin was born in Quebec where he’d been raised fluent in French and, thanks to his mother, English, too. His French-born father was a detective with the Sûreté du Québec, the provincial police, and he’d followed a case to Toronto where he’d become smitten with the office manager for the Toronto police homicide unit.

They fell in love, got married, and settled in Quebec City, where Fortin was born. They lived in the Montcalm District. Fortin loved how its narrow streets were lined with tall oak and maple trees. Their home was not far from an old convent and the area had an abundance of churches. Much of his neighborhood was jammed with neat, working-class apartments. They had pretty balconies and flower boxes that cascaded with the most glorious colors. It was where people hung laundry out to dry, and where seniors enthroned in rocking chairs would lecture loudly to kids on how to behave on the street.

Fortin and his friends spent much of their time playing hockey. In winter their games were held on schoolyard rinks. In the summer, they played on the road, lifting their nets whenever a car approached.

When they weren’t playing hockey, they’d go to the Plains of Abraham to watch the great ships glide by on the St. Lawrence, wondering where they were headed and guessing at what the cargo could be. He also loved stealing carrots from the kitchen, then running down the Grande Allée through the Saint-Louis Gate and feeding them to the horses that pulled the tourists on carriage rides through the old, walled city.

But among all of Fortin’s boyhood memories, one always stood out.

The girl Elena, Elena Grabowski.

She was very pretty in a dark, mysterious way. He’d never forgotten the time when Elena and her family had first moved into Montcalm from Europe. She was a little older than Fortin and his friends. Sometimes she watched them play street hockey and would talk to them when they took a break. She had the prettiest eyes, spoke several languages, and claimed to be a gypsy.

“You know, I have special powers,” Elena had told them.

“Like what?” Fortin asked.

“I can tell your fortune.”

“No way.”

“I can. And I’ll tell you yours, for five dollars each.”

“Five dollars? That’s a lot of money.”

“No, it’s not, not if you want to know what your future will be.”

Fortin was uncertain about the deal.

“Just come to my house tonight after supper,” Elena said. “My parents will be away and I’ll be watching my little brothers.”

Fortin was hesitant but his friends, Andre and Paul, egged him to go.

“Do it, Will!” Andre said. “You’ve got five bucks!”

“I bet she just wants to kiss you!” Paul said.