The Mystery of the Moonlight Murder (6 page)

BOOK: The Mystery of the Moonlight Murder
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“Officer Wood!” a young voice called.

Yes, he was sure he heard it that time.

“Officer Wood!”

Constable Wood slid his chair across the floor as he moved to open the door. He looked outside to his right and could see a young boy sitting on the ground, holding his ankle. Was that the youngest Diefenbaker boy?

“What's wrong there, young lad?” Constable Wood called back from the doorway.

Elmer grimaced. “I twisted my ankle! It really hurts! Can you help me?”

The constable hesitated, realizing he was the only officer in the station. Nonetheless, he got up from his chair, exited the station and pulled the door shut behind him. He walked over to where Elmer was on the ground, rubbing his ankle. When he had almost reached Elmer, John appeared from the side of the station where he had been peeking out and quietly began to enter the same door. He gave one last glance around to ensure no one would see him enter. Summer stayed in hiding. Her involvement would look more suspicious, since her father was in the jail cell.

John's eyes quickly found River's Voice in the lone cell to his right. John recognized the trademark tattoos on his arms and could see some of the tattoos on his chest, common for Plains Cree men. Things were changing for the Plains Cree, and for many other tribes, too. More and more white people were moving onto Native land and bringing their European customs. Indians still followed their ways of life but they were also trying to adopt white traditions. River's Voice's clothing was such an example. His shirt was made from moose hide but he wore light grey linen pants, a combination of the two cultures. The man was surprised to see John enter.

“John! What are you doing here?” asked River's Voice, immediately standing and walking toward him in his cell. He

extended his hand and John shook it and smiled.

“I don't have much time,” John said quickly. “But I wanted you to know I don't believe you did…well, you know. I don't believe you killed anyone,” said John, finding his confidence. River's Voice tried to smile to show John his appreciation. “Thank you, John. I know the Diefenbakers are good friends to my family.”

“I want to help,” John said calmly, “but I need to know something.”

River's Voice nodded.

“Was that really your necklace on Mr. Schneider's property?” John asked.

The man nodded. “Yes, but I am not sure when I lost it. It could be the last time I visited that farm,” said River's Voice. “It has round mussel shells on a leather band. But it was always loose at the part that joins,” he said, gesturing with his two hands to help John understand.

John tried to figure out what he needed to know in the limited amount of time that he had.

“Did you have an argument with Mr. Schneider the day you were there?” John asked, glancing at the door and wondering how much time he had before Constable Wood returned.

River's Voice nodded. “Yes, I should not have gone again. That was a mistake. I tried earlier in the summer, too. He was very angry only because I am Indian. He didn't want me on his

land, even though I tried to make a fair trade, like I do with your father,” he explained. “He told me Indians were not welcome near farms and then I tried to talk some more, to try and find out why he was so mad at all Indians, but he just got louder and louder,” River's Voice said. “So I left. And later that week, I realized my pelts were gone. They take so long to trap,” he said, wistfully.

“How did you know Mr. Schneider had your pelts? And how did you come to know he was in Borden the day you saw him there?” asked John.

“A stranger left a message with one of the village elders who was sitting at the edge of our reservation. He said he heard Hans Schneider had something I wanted and that he was going to take it into Borden to get money. So I went there and watched for him and then I saw him in Borden with all my pelts! He took my pelts!”

John absorbed this information and was ready with another question. He was very good at remembering details.

“But didn't you tell the police this? Couldn't the village elder identify the man?”

River's Voice shook his head. “No, old Silver Fox is almost blind. He does not know what the person looked like.”

“Where were you the night Mr. Schneider was killed?” asked John.

“Checking my traps in the woods. I had no money for food. I

had to work fast,” the jailed man replied. “By yourself?”

“That's what the police asked,” said River's Voice, dejected. “Yes, just me. I have no way to prove this. What do you call that, John?”

“An alibi.”

“Yes, I have no alibi.” The Cree man looked discouraged. John ran over to the window and looked outside. Elmer was talking up a storm with Constable Wood but it looked like the officer was getting impatient with him. It couldn't last much longer. He decided to switch topics.

“Summer really misses you but my father told her a jail is no place for girls, so she couldn't come inside,” said John.

River's Voice took a deep breath and his eyes were misted over. “Your father is right. This is no place for her. Tell her I miss her. Tell her I have not stopped singing.”

John nodded his head and smiled, happy that River's Voice understood.

“We'll do everything we can to figure out what really happened that night. We won't leave any stone unturned,” said John.

River's Voice looked puzzled. “Stone…unturned?”

“Oh, it's an old saying,” explained John, forgetting River's Voice wasn't likely to know common English sayings, given that he spoke Cree most of the time. “It means we will be very

complete and thorough,” said John.

He nodded appreciatively. “John, I don't know if anyone has enough time to help.”

“What do you mean?” asked John.

“In six days I will be taken away from here to a larger prison in Regina. The trial will happen soon after.”

“Regina! That's two hundred miles away! In that case,” said John, “the way I see it is that we only have five days to figure this out.”

Chapter 7
The Eagle and the Storm

For as long as John could remember, Taggart's General Store in Borden had always looked the same, at least from the outside. Its dark green roof and long, worn, wooden porch were as familiar as the back of his own hand.

Upon entering, though, it was hard to know what might be found. Sure, the necessities and old standbys were there—flour, salt, tea, animal feeds, and farm tools. Sugar and raisins and mixed nuts were scooped from large bins and weighed in brown paper bags. A great round of delicious-smelling cheese stood under a glass counter, which often competed with the aroma of freshly-ground coffee. It was a meeting place, too, where men talked about the weather and women converged on the dry goods side of the store, chatting about their children, neighbours or church get-togethers.

Each month, it seemed something new was added to the store: candy-striped treats on the counter, new clothing from Montreal or New York City, the latest marbles and balls and

new dolls. All of it was shipped by wagon or train and it was exciting when new goods came in and were set up for sale.

Four or five times a year, for a couple of weeks each time, store owner Max Taggart left Borden, leaving his mother to run things. Some folks said he had a lady friend in Toronto. Others said he just liked to travel.

Actually, Max was a lot like his store. He always looked the same on the outside, but inside, you never knew what to expect. He had a personality that was difficult to predict from one day to the next. To many, it was a surprise that he had gone into sales, since he didn't like to see people every day. He could be silent and unhelpful one day but rather pleasant the next.

“So how did you keep Constable Wood talking so long, Elmer?” John asked quietly as they walked up the steps of Taggart's General Store. Elmer grinned.

“It wasn't too difficult, actually. At first I was just hollering about my ankle and how sore it was. But then I asked him if he thought a wrecked ankle would prevent me from joining the police academy in Regina. He seemed really impressed that I was thinking about being a police officer and he just started talking about his experiences. So I kept asking him more and more questions and then I saw you sneak out. I think I could have lasted another five minutes or so.” John slapped his brother on the back.

“Way to go, Elmer. I knew you could do it.” Elmer beamed as they met up with their father who had just exited the land titles office. They entered the store, just as a stranger passed them on his way out. Elmer darted over to the marble bags that hung like bulging treasure from small metal hooks. Summer immediately drifted over to the candy jars up on the counter, while John tried to restrain himself from moving anywhere too fast. He felt he might be getting too old to immediately run toward toys or candy. However, his brother's frantic calls for him to come at once to see the new marbles soon wore away John's resolve.

“William! Good to see you!” said the Max Taggart that liked people. After also waving to John and Elmer and glancing at Summer, John tried to listen in to what William and Max were talking about.

John realized Max was obviously curious about Summer, wondering what she was doing with the Diefenbakers. William explained what had happened, although the store owner had certainly heard about the murder of Hans Schneider, just like everyone else in town.

Max's voice was very low at first, and John couldn't hear every word.

“Are you sure? Innocent?” he asked skeptically.

William nodded. “Of course. There has to…explanation,” William replied quietly, too, obviously happy Summer was out

of hearing range. It bothered John that most people assumed that River's Voice was guilty. He knew that it had something to do with the community mistrusting Indian people. Few people liked Hans Schneider. On the other hand, he was white, not Indian. This unfairness frustrated John.

Max raised his voice slightly now and John could hear the conversation better.

“…a tragedy, that's what it is. You know, I hate to talk out of school, so to speak, but I just wonder if Gertrude's going to be able to clear this debt off.”

“Debt?” William asked obligingly.

Max nodded. “They weren't doing so well, financially. It's hard for everyone but they seemed to have an especially hard time, after that fire last year knocked off half their crop. Lucky you weren't swept up in that, too.” William nodded his head. “I remember.”

Max pulled on the ends of his long dark moustache, which curled at the ends. “Yes, I felt sorry for them so I started to run a tab. I finally had to quit, though, because they just weren't making an effort to pay me back. Old Hans wasn't too happy with me, but you know what? I wasn't too happy with him either. I mean, times are tough for everyone, right? I tried to do them a favour but I'm not running a bank here.”

“It was nice of you to try and help out,”

William said diplomatically.

This seemed to satisfy Max a great deal. He helped William find the various supplies he needed to take back to the homestead. Mary had given him a small list that included coffee, flour and a few canned goods, as well as grain for the chickens. Although John, Elmer, and Summer lingered at the counter near the candy sticks, William was firm.

“Sorry you three, there's no money for that today,” William said.

Max, feeling generous, reached over for the jar of red-striped candy sticks.

“If it's okay with you, William,” he said looking his way “then it's on me today. How does that sound?”

Elmer and Summer looked with anticipation at William, who nodded and gave them a wink.

“Yes, thank you! Yes, please!” said the two of them with looks of delight on their faces.

Max held the jar in front of Elmer and then John but seemed to pause for the briefest of moments before holding it in front of Summer.

“Thanks, Max,” said William, “that's generous of you.”

“Not at all, not at all,” he replied.

“Okay everyone, let's get going,” William said, as they all said goodbye and walked down the wooden steps toward their wagon.

Max Taggart stood near the door and muttered quietly to

himself, pulling on his long moustache.

***

When the wagon and Summer, on her majestic Pinto, arrived at the Diefenbaker homestead, the sun had already fallen significantly from its high perch in the sky. The heat didn't waver in intensity, hanging in uncomfortable humidity. The sky was dark to the west but it still seemed to be a distant concern.

Ed Diefenbaker was busy working outside on the new well that had to be built. Mary Diefenbaker was chopping vegetables outside on a makeshift table in a shaded area, where she had escaped the confines of her tiny, dark kitchen.

Prairie Dancer dutifully walked alongside the wagon for the five mile trip from the Long River reservation where the Diefenbakers had travelled for Summer to pick up clothing and other things that she would need for her week-long stay. When she asked William if her
masinasowatim
could come—Cree, for Pinto—he thought about it and couldn't think of any reason to say no, as long as she took care of the mare herself. This was good news for John and Elmer, who delighted in the idea of horseback riding with Summer, at least during the times when Skipper and Blue weren't needed to pull the wagon.

If John and Elmer could be considered good riders, John thought to himself, Summer was even better. Summer had

owned the horse since she was three years old. It didn't make a difference how hard times got, her father had promised her that they would never sell the horse. He had kept his word. Prairie Dancer was her pride and joy.

Summer jumped down from her mare with a grin on her face and waved to Mary and then to Ed, who was farther away. John realized that with all the trouble her father was in, staying with friends must be a welcome diversion for her.

Mary smiled and welcomed Summer, giving her a warm hug. John and Elmer quickly took over the task of unhitching Skipper and Blue from the wagon, something they had mastered long ago. John waved Summer over towards them so that the three of them could work on cooling down the horses. They grabbed some brushes and chatted excitedly while the adults unloaded the supplies.

Mary fussed over the goods that William had brought home and she soon let him know what mistakes he made shopping. Ed, who had since joined them, gave William a sympathetic look and then appeared amused as he reached down for the tail ends of his shirt and used them to wipe his sweaty face.

Mary didn't waste any time reminding the boys of their promises to catch up on their chores.

“You're lucky you've now got an extra pair of hands to help out,” she called out, referring to Summer.

“I get Summer for my chores!” John called out.

“No way!” said Elmer. “I need her!”

“Summer can take turns helping you both out,” said Mary sternly. “And don't talk about the girl like she's a farm tool, either!”

“Yes, Mother,” the boys said, almost at the same time. John, Elmer, and Summer finished their brushing and then set the three horses out to pasture in the north field.

***

All the chores, other than cleaning out the animal paddocks, were done by seven o'clock. Mary told them to get cleaned up for supper and finish afterwards. Once everyone sat down, they joined hands and recited their prayer of grace. Everyone enjoyed Mary's meal—wild duck that Uncle Ed had shot early that morning, with potatoes and small carrots. For a special treat, in anticipation of Summer coming, Mary had also baked a Saskatoon berry pie, made with the large berries that had an apple-like flavour. Summer shared that the Cree name for the berry was
misaskwatomina
. It was one of her favourite fruits.

“Mother, thank you for this delicious dinner,” John said, as he leaned over and gave her a one-armed hug. The others mumbled and nodded in agreement with their mouths stuffed with food. It seemed like everyone just wanted to avoid talking about Summer's father, if only for the first night.

Summer felt so welcome at the Diefenbaker table. She spoke about her life on the reservation, and how the adults struggled to make a good life for their children. Although Chief Five Hawks worked hard, nothing seemed to ever change. The Diefenbakers could relate to struggling to get by on the farm. They added how difficult it was to get a fair price for wheat after the harvest.

“The sky looks strange tonight and the air is so heavy and sticky,” said William, glancing out at the eerie glow of the falling sun. “I think Mary's right. We're in for a storm.”

Ed pushed his plate away as he finished and nodded in agreement at his brother's comment. “That's alright, we need the rain,” he said. “Looks like we'll have a pretty good crop this year.”

Everyone smiled at the thought of a good harvest and then the clean-up process began. After the table was cleared, Mary shooed her boys and Summer out of the house. It was time for the children to finish their daily chores. Summer enjoyed the evenings with John and Elmer, even though it meant cleaning out the animals' paddocks.

“What do we do tomorrow?” asked Summer, wiping a few stray hairs away from her eyes. She seemed to be enjoying everything, simply because it wasn't part of her normal routine.

“Probably the same thing,” said Elmer miserably.

“Great!” said Summer while John and Elmer glanced at each

other and shook their heads.

The animals seemed restless—even the oxen and not much usually bothered them. John chalked it up to the lightning flickering far away.

***

After putting in a hard day's work, Ed fell promptly asleep that night. Although John and Elmer had worked hard, too, they lay on their backs with their eyes wide open, heads resting on the folded blankets they used for pillows. John was in his usual place, his single wooden bed shoved against the north wall of the tiny homestead. Elmer was right below him camped out on the floor. They both stared at the tiny window in front of them, watching the distant lightning play about the sky. As they stared at the ribbons of fractured light, Elmer sat up on one elbow and leaned over to John, sensing he was still wide awake, too. “John?” he whispered.

BOOK: The Mystery of the Moonlight Murder
9.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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