The Mystery of the Moonlight Murder

by Roderick Benns

  As the three made their way up the sun-lit main street, they each gave a loud sigh of relief.

  “Whew! That was too close,” said Elmer, his eyes as large as supper plates. “Do you think that man was going to shoot us, John?”

  “I don’t think so, Elmer. But I’m glad we didn’t have to find out.”

  “Thanks to André Dumont,” said Elmer.

  “Yes, I suppose so,” said John, who was surprised by the gesture of help from the Métis man.

  Summer suddenly pointed. “Look, your father!”

  William had just exited the police station and was walking down the street toward the wagon, craning his neck, looking from side to side. He was obviously trying to see where his boys and Summer were.

  “Father, over here!” said John waving and walking toward

  him from an angle William obviously didn’t expect. He wasn’t about to tell him about the run-in with the stranger, Cecil, because it might spoil the freedom they currently had in Borden. William looked curious. “Now just where were you three?”

  “We were just looking around,” Elmer answered, hoping the panic he felt moments before didn’t show through in his voice. John decided at the very least they should tell their father about observing André Dumont talking to others, and how a crowd had gathered around him while he spoke about the troubles of the Métis, the Cree, other Indian tribes and even settlers. When he was finished, his father was looking around.

  “Do you still see him?” asked William. John, Elmer, and Summer looked around and shook their heads.

  “This Mr. Dumont character sounds like trouble to me,” said William. “Hopefully he won’t be in town for very long.”

  “Did you see my father?” asked Summer eagerly, changing the topic.

  William drew in a deep breath. “Yes, I saw him briefly but I spent most of the time talking with Constable Wood. He’s the only officer there right now.”

  “Did Constable Wood say what happened?” asked John. William looked downcast as he proceeded to tell Summer and the boys the facts of the case, as he understood them. The officer had spent a few minutes with William in a back room to

  be out of earshot of River’s Voice’s cell. As it turns out, William told Summer, after doing a thorough search of the Schneider property, they had found a necklace that looked like it might be Indian-made because it was a leather string with a series of shells. It was soon proven to belong to River’s Voice.

  As Summer tried to absorb this damaging information against her father, William had the unfortunate job of letting her know an even greater reason for her father being charged with the crime. Apparently there were also witnesses in Borden who said they heard River’s Voice confront and threaten Hans Schneider about the pelts he was selling.

  Summer began to shed tears, realizing the police seemed to have decided once and for all. She went and sat down on a nearby store step and Elmer went to sit beside her.

  “Father,” asked John, “what did the witnesses say they saw and heard?”

  William sighed. “They say they saw River’s Voice and Hans trying to pull the pelts from each other’s hands. When Hans started to yell and attract attention, River’s Voice apparently told Hans threateningly, ‘You’ll pay for this,’ and then fled.”

  William turned to Summer. “I’m sorry, Summer. I wish there was more that I could do right now. If your father is innocent— and I believe he is—the truth will find a way to get out.”

  John was disappointed at the way his own father was being so optimistic and trusting that the situation would work itself

  out. He always talked liked that, John thought bitterly, even when things didn’t work out. John needed an action plan. He wanted to gather facts and think this puzzle through. The odds were against justice for River’s Voice. He was a Cree man and discrimination against Indians was all too common. John believed he couldn’t just sit around and hope for the best.

  However, Summer seemed to appreciate his father’s words, John noticed.

  “Do you know how my father got his name?” she asked. “How I got my name?” The others shook their heads.

  “My father, when he was just a baby, he hardly ever cried. And when he did make sounds, it seemed like they were sounds from music or nature. Everyone knew he would be a wonderful singer someday, so they called him River’s Voice in the naming ceremony. But he never chose to sing as he grew up. His heart was always closed to singing. He did not use his gift.

  “Then after my mother died of smallpox, when I was just six months old, he quietly started to sing to me. He was so sad. It was the middle of summer and our door was open. His voice grew louder and then all the others heard, too. The elders tell me his voice was so beautiful that everyone in the village stood to listen outside our house. Even though it had been many years since he sang, they said it was just like the river, the sweet sound it makes when it goes around rocks and fallen trees.

  “One day, it started to rain but no one wanted to leave, even when storm clouds came. They would not leave the singing! When the four elders met for my naming ceremony, they knew my father’s voice brought the mighty thunder. That’s why they chose to call me Summer Storm.

  “My father told the elders he would never forget his gifts again. He said his gifts were his wife, who cannot return, his daughter and his voice. Can he sing in prison, Mr. D.?”

  John and Elmer remained silent after Summer’s story, and William turned his head away for a moment. When he faced her again his eyes were damp.

  “I think your father meant what he said. I think he will always find a way to sing,” said William gently.

  John let his mind drift to the beauty of the Cree naming ceremony. He pictured the rain falling on members of the village as they gathered around the home of River’s Voice. It was strange to John how something sad and tragic could exist right beside something so beautiful.

  “Your father confirmed for me that your grandparents are not feeling well right now,” said William, changing subjects. “So with all the pressure on them and your extended family on the reservation, I offered your father to let you stay with us for a week. You’re practically family anyway, as far as we’re concerned. Of course, you’d have to help out with chores, too.”

  “I love your chores,” said Summer jumping into the air and

  smiling. She was thinking of the animals. “I would love to do this, thank you, Mr. D.” John and Elmer laughed.

  William grinned. He was glad this news had cheered her up some.

  “Elmer can sleep at Uncle Ed’s, with John. You can have Elmer’s spot, in the kitchen.

  Summer nodded, happy that the Diefenbakers had room for her.

  “I have to go to the land titles office for a little while and there’s no room in there for everyone. We’ll meet up at the general store in about twenty minutes to get Mother’s supplies.”

  And with that, William left for the land titles office, while John took a good long look at the police station, not 50 feet away from them, once his father was out of sight.

  “Let’s go,” he said, with Elmer and Summer in tow.

  “Where?” asked Elmer.

  “To the police station. I want to see Summer’s father,” answered John.

  Elmer scrunched his forehead. “Father said we weren’t allowed to go to the jail.”

  “No, he didn’t. He said he didn’t want Summer in the jailhouse because it wasn’t a place for young ladies. He didn’t say anything about us and I’ve got some questions for River’s Voice.”

  Elmer considered John’s technicality and looked impressed. “But I don’t think Constable Wood will let us in, either,” said Elmer.

  “Actually, not us. Just me. But I need you, Elmer, to make this possible.”

  ***

  Constable Wood surveyed the cramped police office that he was now in charge of for three whole days. His boss, Sergeant English, was in Regina on official police business. He straightened some papers and looked aro
und the room. To his right, he glanced up at his diploma from the Regina Police Academy. It inspired him to sit more smartly in his chair.

  Almost reluctantly, he took a glance at his only prisoner in the corner, River’s Voice, who solemnly returned his stare before speaking quietly and politely in his heavy, Cree accent. “Constable, my people have always had respect for the Royal North West Mounted Police. Ever since the red coats showed up on the prairies, we knew they came to bring rules and order. I was only a young boy then. But now, what should we think? This is a mistake.”

  Constable Wood’s face didn’t change, but inside he felt unsettled. How come he was feeling this way? Yes, his prisoner seemed to be a calm and polite sort of person. Yet, they had

  more evidence than they needed to lay a charge of murder against River’s Voice. There was a bracelet found at the scene that he admitted belonged to him and even witnesses who say they heard him make threatening remarks when he argued with Hans Schneider. The man had a motive for the crime, Constable Wood told himself again. It doesn’t matter what William Diefenbaker says.

  “Just keep quiet in there,” the constable said evenly. “You’ll get a trial in Regina soon enough.”

  “Yes, you told me. A trial,” repeated River’s Voice calmly. “I think that really means I will never get to see my family again. I think that’s what a trial means for me.”

  Constable Wood ignored the comment and returned to his paperwork. He was in charge now and he wasn’t about to get distracted by anything. Just then he thought he heard the distant sound of his name.

  “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.<
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  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.