The Mystery of the Moonlight Murder (11 page)

“There was a thunderstorm all that night,” said William, exasperated. John knew he had shifted his chair because he could hear it slide across the floor. “Any fool could tell it was obviously because of a lightning strike.”

“It's not all rational,” reminded the constable.

“Poor old Karl,” said Mary quietly, who was thinking about how often he had helped out the Diefenbakers with the water difficulties they were having. “We must get over there and see how he's doing,” she said to William.

William mumbled agreement, but John could tell he was

clearly distracted.

“Speaking of tensions,” began Sergeant English, who then stopped in mid-sentence. He brought his mug of coffee to his lips and slurped it loudly enough for the three to hear it outside. “We know for a fact that André Dumont had a meeting with Chief Five Hawks, just yesterday. I mention this because you just said your children were there at the reservation yesterday, too.”

John, Elmer, and Summer all looked at one another. They were surprised the police already knew.

“The boys were there yesterday with Summer to get Ed the ointment for his arm. They mentioned they noticed him there but I don't think they made contact. Why do you think he was there?” asked William.

John tried to lean in more closely, although he was right against the outside of the house already and his ear was likely going to get a sliver from the wooden wall. Elmer was leaning onto his foot at the same time, which was additionally irritating.

“We wish we knew,” said Sergeant English. “Our sources were not able to confirm. But given that he fancies himself as carrying on his famous uncle's work, he's been pretty busy trying to stir things up against the government. He's been careful. We can't charge him on anything yet. But if I was Laurier, I'd be keeping my eye on what's happening around here lately.”

“The prime minister?” William asked in disbelief. “Are you that worried that something is going to happen?”

“Hard to say which way the pendulum will swing. All I'm saying is I've let the Prime Minister's Office know what's going on around here,” said the sergeant with some self-importance. “We have our ear to the ground and if something breaks, we'll be ready.”

There was some shuffling of cups and then Ed spoke. “From everything you've said, doesn't Dumont benefit the most from the tension going on? Did you ever think of him for the murder of Hans Schneider?”

John had mixed feelings about his uncle's statement. What he said made sense, but on the other hand he was beginning to like André Dumont. And twice, now, André had saved John.

“Of course,” said the sergeant. “With him being new in town, he was one of the first people we wondered about. First, we wanted to check out his story to make sure he is who he says he is, the nephew of Gabriel Dumont. He claims his father was Joseph Dumont. Well, I never heard of him but I checked with a few Métis sources and they tell me Gabriel did have a younger brother named Joseph, although they weren't very close.

“But what about his whereabouts on the night of the murder?” asked Ed.

“It wasn't him,” said Sergeant English. “That's why I didn't

look into it any more deeply. His alibi was air-tight. He was sitting in a hotel having a drink and there were eight other men and the barmaid who can vouch for him during the time of the murder.”

Mary made a scoffing sound at the mention of alcohol again. It was something of a reflex for her. John was almost relieved that Mr. Dumont could account for where he was on the night of the murder, with witnesses.

William finally mentioned what John had been waiting for. “Did you know that Hans Schneider had a big debt with Max Taggart?”

“As a matter of fact,” said Sergeant English, “we are aware of that.”

“Well, doesn't that point to Hans, as much as I hate to say it, more than it points to River's Voice?” William added. “Maybe he did take those pelts to sell to help clear his debts?” John was happy his father was pressing this.

Sergeant English slurped some of his coffee again and set the mug down with a clunk before replying. “William, it doesn't add up. That would mean Hans knew there were pelts waiting to be taken, knew precisely where River's Voice lived and then knew where they were being stored. Not to mention the fact that he wasn't a young man and would have difficulty stealing all those in one trip. Believe me, we've thought of these things.”

John realized the sergeant was right—some of what he had

said he had already discussed with Elmer and Summer. “Anyways, folks,” said Sergeant English.

Were they about to leave? John touched Elmer and Summer on the arm to tell them to scramble around the corner of the house if it sounded like they were leaving.

The sergeant's voice carried on. “We just wanted to let you all know there have been a few break-ins lately, too. It's getting serious enough that we've already got a few reinforcements on their way to help us investigate. This town's been busier than a gold rush lately.”

“I suppose people in town are blaming the Indians for these break-ins, too?” asked William sarcastically. “I'm sure some are,” said Sergeant English.

“Sorry to have to rush off,” said Ed, sliding his chair back. “But I've got plans to get into Langham this morning. We've got a lot of butter to load up yet, too.”

“That's quite alright,” said Sergeant English. “We've got to move along anyway. You folks take care—Mary, thanks for the coffee—and good luck with those butter sales.”

John gave a frantic ‘go' signal with his index finger to his brother and Summer. They couldn't get caught listening in so soon after getting in trouble for being at the river or they'd never leave the homestead until they were adults. They scrambled quickly around the corner of the house, with Elmer rolling in the dirt for dramatic effect in his getaway. They kept on

going to the barn then whirled around as if they were just exiting the barn after visiting the animals. John, Summer and Elmer walked back and stood beside the adults.

As the two police officers walked outside and prepared to mount their horses, Constable Wood turned to face Summer.

“It's the strangest thing. Whenever we leave the station, your father begins to sing.”

Summer broke into a wide grin, which the young Mountie noticed.

“Do you know why that might be?” asked Constable Wood.

She nodded.

“Yes. It means that my father is keeping his word to the elders. It means that he will not give up.”

Chapter 12
The Butter Trail

Mary Diefenbaker liked to sell her own butter, thank you very much. After all, it was her hard work—with churning assistance from John and Elmer sometimes—that made these butterselling trips even possible. She surveyed the work of the rest of the family, knowing this time she wouldn't be a part of the action because of her leg. It was a disappointment, but that was life, wasn't it?

When they lived in Fort Carlton, she used to sell it in nearby Rosthern, a major trading town. Since moving to the Borden area, the Diefenbakers mainly did local trading and selling, but they preferred the butter market in farther-away Langham where Mary had more regular customers. The trip to Langham was about eleven miles but at least Mary could usually count on selling for a good price. All in all, the butter sales were a helpful source of additional income for the family. Sometimes the family used the butter for barter, such as with old Karl to trade for fresh water. And sometimes they traded butter in the

stores when they wanted other foods, such as canned fruits and vegetables that were difficult to grow on the prairies.

Butter-making was an art, no doubt about it. At first, Mary had to skim the cream from the surface of the milk and allow it to set in pails. If she could keep John away from the buttermilk—that is, from drinking down some of the profits—she sometimes sold this, too. Then the cream was placed in the churn and the handle turned until the butter became the desired consistency. The Diefenbakers used a combination of wooden pails that could hold five pounds of butter and wooden tubs that could carry larger amounts. Some stores liked to have the butter pre-made into rolls so Mary also took the time to package it in various ways to increase her sales.

William and John helped Ed, Elmer, and Summer load the wagon with the tubs and pails of butter and everything was checked twice before their departure. Skipper and Blue had already been hitched up and the team was ready for the long trip to Langham. William requested a
Langham Times
newspaper to catch up on the latest politics and local news.

John gave Elmer and Summer a wish-I-was-going-too look before they boarded the wagon. He might not be able to go to Langham, John thought to himself, but at least it would give him some time to talk with his father. Time was ticking by for River's Voice and John had a lot of questions and very few answers.

***

As Skipper and Blue plodded along the road, Elmer and Summer forgot they would have to cross the great bridge that spanned the North Saskatchewan River to get to Langham. They gulped as they were half way across the river, remembering the watery ordeal John had gone through only a day earlier. Once across the bridge, there were a few more miles of the typical flat landscape and then Ed, Elmer and Summer finally began to see the distinct shapes of buildings in the distance.

Langham was small yet bustling with activity and, like Borden, was prospering thanks to the establishment of the Canadian Northern Railway a few years ago. The train line ran all the way to Edmonton, Alberta, moving people across the West to some of the more northern towns and cities with a reliability that used to be lacking. Langham was a diverse town, made up of European settlers, Doukhobor families from Russia, and Mennonite settlers who had emigrated from the United States.

As the wagon made its way along the main street, Ed steered past the Langham Bruderthaler Mennonite Church, reading the various business signs until he found the general store that he knew Mary liked to deal with.

While Ed jumped down to negotiate with the store owner,

Elmer and Summer also got down and took in the bustling town with a sweep of their eyes. There were people buying and selling all kinds of goods down the main road, including dry goods, soap, small animals like geese and chickens, and building materials—all manner of bartering and buying that one could imagine.

“The town seems busy today,” said Elmer. “I haven't been here in a long time.”

“And I have never been here,” noted Summer, looking around. “I like it. It seems like Borden.”

A black youth, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old, who had been walking by, suddenly stopped and looked at them. “You're from Borden?” he asked. Elmer and Summer both nodded.

The youth grinned. He was dressed in drab, worn clothing but had a twinkle in his eye. He was about average height and carried a small satchel with him, which they assumed contained his personal belongings. The satchel he carried gave him the look of someone who was travelling.

“The railway goes through Borden, too. Isn't that right?” “Yes,” Elmer said. “Are you going on a trip further west?” The youth puffed out his chest some. “I'm hoping to find work on the railway. No luck so far,” he said, glancing around with disappointment. Then he added, “I'm Matthew Carver.” Elmer and Summer introduced themselves. Elmer had never

spoken to anyone who was black before, at least not in the West and not for many years. Back in Ontario, he had vague memories of playing with black friends, although John remembered better because he was older.

By this time, Ed had noticed they were chatting with the teenager and stared for a little bit until he decided all was well. He then continued negotiating with the store owner.

“Where are you from, Matthew?” Elmer asked in a conversational way.

“Rosetown, southwest of here,” he replied. “My family came here from Oklahoma a year ago. We heard about the free land. Takes a while to get the land working properly, though, doesn't it?”

Elmer nodded. He relayed the struggles with their own family's homestead north of Borden and Summer talked about life on the reservation and how her father turned to trapping for most of their income because of the difficulty he had farming. “Trapping? That sounds exciting,” said Matthew enthusiastically. “I wish I knew how to do that. I'm not sure I like the part about killing animals, though.”

Elmer and Summer laughed. He grinned and then seemed to be thinking about something else.

“Wasn't there a murder in Borden recently? I heard they caught the person who did it. Actually, I heard he was Cree, like you,” Matthew said, not realizing the connection.

“My father did not do that. He's innocent!” said Summer. “Your father!” exclaimed the youth. “Oh!” Elmer explained the whole story to Matthew.

“You were there?” he said impressed. “That's incredible, Summer, I do hope they find the real killer, now that I know your father didn't do it. It's a terrible thing when someone makes up their mind about you, especially when they don't even know you.”

Summer and Elmer studied his face and wondered if Matthew was also talking about his own experiences with being misjudged. It was quiet for a few awkward seconds until Elmer switched subjects.

“Is working on the railway the only kind of work you want to do?”

Matthew studied the ground near his feet. “I'd take any job, really but most places aren't willing to hire someone like me.” Summer nodded. “You mean…because your skin is dark?” she said, rubbing her own skin on her arm to make her point.

He shook his head in agreement. “But railways will sometimes hire black people, as porters and baggage handlers. I've seen it with my own eyes,” he said, trying to stay positive.

“Where do you live when it's winter?” asked Elmer, wondering about his travelling lifestyle.

“Well, I've always lived with my family, with my parents and two younger sisters. We've only had one winter here. It's

not something I look forward to seeing again, no sir-ee,” he said with seriousness. “It's a lot different in Oklahoma, that's for sure.”

His body seemed to experience a chill, even though the hot August sun beat down.

“Where will I live? I don't know.” Matthew looked distant. “I need a job and then a place of my own, I expect. You ever wish you could see what life has in store for you?” he asked. He didn't wait for an answer.

“I do,” Matthew continued quickly. “But that's what happens when you get older,” he said, his chest swelling again. “You start wondering about your future.”

Elmer nodded in a good natured way and then there was more silence before Matthew spoke again.

“Hey, what are you doing in Langham anyway?”

“Selling butter,” said Elmer, jabbing his thumb toward his uncle. “My Uncle Ed is selling it here for my mother. Then we have to pick up some supplies and a newspaper for my father and head back.”

“Oh, I thought you might have come to hear what that fellow has to say…what's his name…Dumont?”

Elmer dropped his jaw. “Dumont? André Dumont?”

***

Back at the homestead, William was trying to convince Mary that resting her leg while working in the henhouse was not really resting her leg at all. The sound of an approaching wagon interrupted the discussion. William soon found himself greeting Harold Devonshire, one of the Diefenbaker's neighbours on the north side of their property. John, who had been working in the garden, approached the visitor, too, when his father waved him over.

“Hello, William, Mary. Hello, John, hello,” said the Englishman, removing his hat temporarily while he greeted the Diefenbakers. Harold, who was tall and thin with equally thin hair, liked to repeat most things twice, if not more. Having just arrived from England two years ago, his English accent was unmistakable.

“Harold, how have you and Margaret been?” asked William. “We've been meaning to come by to see how you coped with the fire.”

“Ahh, not good, not good” he said. “We lost nearly half, I'm afraid. Nearly half.”

“Oh, Harold,” said Mary sympathetically, putting her hands to her mouth in shock. “We're sorry to hear that. Is there anything we can do for you? And so close to the harvest!”

“No, no. We're alright. I thank the Lord last year was a good crop. We're going to make it, though I know it won't be an easy year. It won't be easy but we'll do it.”

“Coffee?” William asked.

“No, thank you. I'm here on other business. I just wanted to ask if your farm was broken into. Anything stolen…stolen at all?”

“No, but the police were here just this morning warning us there had been more than the average number of break-ins. Why? Don't tell me you were robbed, too?” asked William.

Harold nodded. “Oh yes, yes sir. Lost all of our canned goods we had stored. I'm just on my way into Borden now to replace a few things…a few things, anyway.”

William and Mary offered some of their own canned goods, but Harold politely declined.

“And it's not just me, that's the thing,” Harold went on. “Karl Petersen had his watch taken that his late wife had bought for him…”

“Not Karl, too!” said Mary.

“…and Otto and Justina Kowalski had their savings stolen from under their bed. Last week, Nicholas and Liza Petrenko had some family heirlooms taken. In fact, for whatever reason, it seems like your house is the only one that hasn't been robbed in the area lately, at least as far as I can tell. The only one. Why is that, I wonder?” asked Harold.

John, who had been listening with disbelief, wondered why, too. William and Mary were still reeling from all the news that had affected their neighbours.

“Well, I have no idea, I…” began William.

“If the timing was different, I'd be blaming it on the escaped convict. But that only happened last night,” Harold interrupted.

“What escaped convict?” asked Mary, apprehensively.

“You didn't hear? Last night, the prisoner transport car? Some big-time murderer escaped. They say he's from Winnipeg, Winnipeg, they say. Anyhow, I would have blamed him for the thefts, too, except most of these break-ins happened before.”

“This is incredible,” said William, hardly believing the level of chaos that was occurring lately.

“People are upset,” said Harold, clearly getting more agitated. Old Hans is murdered next door to you. Then we have to deal with fire that destroys our crops…except yours, I hear?

“We were lucky…” Mary started to explain.