inspector. “Come out where I can see you or this kid’s dead,” shouted Bud. “And throw your gun in front of you first.”
***
Visions of Windsor in 1922 flashed in front of Inspector Ward’s eyes. A kid was going to die, just like his partner died 28 years ago. Once again he would be powerless to stop it. As the fishing boat continued to burn in chaotic orange and red, he stepped from behind the tree as the man had demanded. His mind rapidly calculated possibilities. The kids were too close together. The boy was a human shield. He needed a diversion.
***
Paul knew that Inspector Ward would be helpless from that distance away if he was forced to drop his gun.
Unless I can create a diversion.
“Hey, Officer Nash!” Paul looked behind Bud Brunner, remembering the name of the officer who had knocked on the cottage door when they were hiding under Bud’s table. “Help us!”
“Nash?” Bud sneered, turning around while still holding Tom. “If he’s going to help anyone it’ll be…”
At the same moment Tom slammed his foot as hard as he could into Bud Brunner’s shin. The shock of the pain allowed Tom to wrench free. Tom dove to the left and Paul and Abby ran to the right so that Bud Brunner was out in the open – alone.
***
It was the break he needed – and he wouldn’t blow it. Inspector Ward, with gun still in hand, heard the Martin boy’s diversion and then saw what the other youth had done to wrestle free.
Still, the man was fast. He held his gun up and aimed it in a snarl at the boy who had kicked him. The inspector aimed and fired in one motion. The bullet from his .38 tore into the man’s shoulder, forcing him to drop the gun immediately. He loped toward where the man had fallen while background flames on the lake cast dark rags of shadows.
***
“Inspector! You found us!” said Paul.
The Inspector smiled grimly and pinned Mr. Brunner’s hands behind his back. He snapped handcuffs over his wrists.
“You…shot me…” said Bud, oblivious to his own intent.
“You’re lucky. Looks like it’s only a flesh wound.”
The inspector looked around for a piece of cloth to make a tourniquet for the bullet wound. Tom realized what he was searching for.
“Here,” he said, taking off his shirt. “You can use this.”
He looked into Bud’s eyes who said nothing in return.
The inspector nodded and fashioned a rough tourniquet.
“Now,” said the inspector, “can someone tell me what just happened?”
Just then Paul’s dad came rushing down the slope.
“What in God’s name happened here?” asked Mr. Martin. “We heard explosions and then I just heard gunshots. Paul? What are you doing here?”
“I can explain, Dad…”
“After the explosion your mother just checked on you and you weren’t there – I said I’d look into what was going on outside.”
Soon more curious neighbours started to trickle over, wondering what was happening.
The inspector put his arms out to quiet the talking. “Okay, young man,” he said, looking at Paul. “Why don’t you tell us what’s going on.”
“Mr. Brunner murdered Owen Richardson.”
A murmur from the crowd. Bud Brunner just glared.
“How do you know?” asked the inspector.
“We first became suspicious of him when Tom went missing,” he said, gesturing to his shirtless friend. Abby and I never believed that Tom would leave without telling us.”
“It’s true – I wouldn’t have,” Tom said.
“His things were still there and he hadn’t left a note for us. So we looked through Mr. Brunner’s house because it seemed he was hiding something.” Paul felt his father’s eyes narrowing at him. “And we found a book with his finances in it.” Bud tugged at his handcuffs.
“And he didn’t just have one income,” Abby said.
“Right,” Paul said, this time looking at his father. “The ledger book was divided up into columns. One was called ‘fish,’ one was called ‘CC-DET’ and one was called ‘CC-DK.’ Later, we realized that ‘DET’ must stand for Detroit, so we decided to search the fishing boat. That’s where we found cases of Canadian Club whisky. Mr. Brunner has a secret compartment under his fishing boat where he keeps all the illegal liquor that he’ll later sell.”
“You mean ‘had’,” said Inspector Ward. He looked out at the weakened flames and smoke coming out of the Lake Erie fishing boat.
“Yes, ‘had,’” corrected Paul.
“It was also where we found Tom, tied up in a corner in the bottom of the boat. He had been struck on the head from behind by Mr. Brunner and left there, since he had found his secret compartment.”
The group of people began to murmur more loudly until the inspector raised his hand.
“Mr. Brunner slammed the trapdoor on us and took off out toward the middle of the lake.”
“We wanted out of there,” said Tom, “so we lit a match so we could find our way out. But we dropped it near the wooden crates of whisky by mistake. Then we knew we had to get out fast.”
“My word,” said the inspector. “You were very lucky.”
“Mr. Brunner pretended that he was going fishing in Lake Erie,” Abby chimed in, “and he did, a little bit of the time. But really he’s been crossing the border and bringing whisky to Detroit. When we were on the boat, we figured out that DK from the ledger book must mean Dirty Kate’s. So, Mr. Brunner was selling whisky illegally to Owen Richardson – and probably others. That’s the third income.”
Mr. Martin made eye contact with the inspector and raised his eyebrows.
“You’ve done some fine detective work,” said Inspector Ward. “This evidence is going to be very helpful.”
“And, about the murder,” Paul said. “We found a pair of jeans with a really big hole in the knee and we know that a piece of denim was discovered at the scene of the crime.”
“This makes sense since Mr. Brunner and Mr. Richardson were in business together,” Tom explained.
“Also, I think that Mr. Brunner’s employee, Jerry Butler, was involved in the murder,” Paul added.
Bud Brunner shook his head half-heartedly.
“He either was a witness or participated in it,” Tom said. “I was over at Mr. Brunner’s property last night and I saw the two of them get back together around ten o’clock. This was just after the murder took place.”
“I’m not happy you disobeyed me,” Mr. Martin said to Paul. “But well done, Paul – well done all of you!”
There was some impromptu clapping from the small group that had assembled.
“Thanks, but that’s not all.”
Inspector Ward looked curiously at him.
“When we found Tom today,” Paul said, “I realized that some of the Windsor Police officers were actually involved – or at least allowing – the trafficking of illegal alcohol. In the ledger book, Mr. Brunner had a list of names and addresses. Beside some of them was written ‘C-O-P,’” he spelled.
Inspector Ward smiled at this. “Perfect. A murder trial and now this – you three have really made a difference.”
“I realized they were police officers who were buying alcohol from Mr. Brunner. Also, we went to talk with an officer earlier today in Windsor – Officer Cameron.” Paul saw his father frown as he realized what the Windsor trip was about. “And he was extremely unhelpful. I remembered that we had seen him driving around in Colchester earlier this summer.”
“He was buying from Mr. Brunner,” Abby said. “He was in on it. And earlier today, when we were looking for evidence here, someone called Officer Nash came by, too. He was calling out for Mr. Brunner by h
is first name as he looked for him.”
“I’m impressed, Paul and Abby,” said Inspector Ward. “This took a lot of reasoning and a lot of courage. And Tom, that was very brave, the way you broke free to give me a chance earlier.”
Tom nodded quietly.
“It was all to find Tom,” Paul said. “We wouldn’t have pushed so hard without a really good reason.”
“Bon Dieu,” Mr. Martin said, nudging at his black-rimmed glasses.
“With what you’ve uncovered, I’ll be able to show that while the membership of the Windsor Police Force is honest and an example to follow, a few were allowing a blind pig to operate,” said Inspector Ward.
“The list of officers’ names may directly show those who were in deep with Brunner. By the time I’m done with this investigation, the bad apples will be removed from their posts. This is all thanks to you three.” He shook hands with Paul, Abby and Tom.
Inspector Ward moved Bud Brunner up the slope and into his dark sedan. He pulled open the door, directing the man inside. He watched the dying light of orange fire reflected on Bud Brunner’s face.
Epilogue
“Paul,” Mrs. Martin called up the stairs, “we’re leaving in half an hour.”
“Coming.” Paul swung his packed bag over his shoulder and took one final glance at the loft. The windows were boarded up with plywood, the cot was gone, the bedding was folded in the closet, and the cupboards were empty. Paul turned away and walked down the stairs and outside.
“We’ve got to get all of your toys together, Mary Anne,” Paul heard Mrs. Martin coaxing his sister, as he headed out the back door. The net from the tennis court had been stored away, but Paul could still see the lines that he had carefully marked. He crossed the lawn and tossed his bag into the open trunk of their large grey Buick before setting off for the park, where he was meeting Tom and Abby. Paul’s feet led him across the road, onto the grass and, finally, down the hill to the water. Abby was sitting on a rock near the shore, wearing a cranberry-coloured wool sweater. The weather had definitely started to turn.
“Hey, Abby,” Paul said, sitting down beside her in a mixture of sand and pebbles.
“Hi, Paul,” she said, still watching Lake Erie’s grey-blue waters. The lake stretched out in a flat line, blurring with mist only when it met the horizon. “I can’t believe it’s the end of summer already.”
“I know.” Paul picked up a rock and flicked it into the water. “You’re going back to Windsor, I’m going back to Ottawa and Tom’s going back to the reserve.”
“Talking about me?” Tom plopped down beside Paul. The lump on his head had disappeared and he had just recently been able to take off the white bandage encircling his head. It had been put on the night of his rescue, after the doctor had come to take a look at Tom. He had been diagnosed with a concussion.
“How was Mrs. April?” Paul asked, knowing that Tom had gone over to say goodbye to the woman who had been so helpful to him earlier in the summer.
“Good. She was glad to see me looking better.” When she had found out about Tom’s ordeal, Mrs. April had been very concerned for Tom and, of course, had been the one to tell the whole neighbourhood about Bud Brunner’s and Jerry Butler’s arrests. The upside was that a number of neighbours pitched in with work for Tom to do which carried him through until the end of summer.
“I’ve decided to go back to school.” Tom sifted through the pebbles as he talked. “My sister’s getting better, thanks to the medicine your father and mother got for Joyce, Paul. So there’s less stress on the family. It looks like there won’t be any lasting effects from the polio – she’s one of the lucky ones, I guess.”
“That’s great, Tom,” Abby said, smiling. “I’m so glad about Joyce and it’s wonderful that you’ve decided to go back to school.”
“I’m sure you’ll do really well,” Paul encouraged. “Are you going to work at the same time?”
“When my mom died, I decided too fast to quit school, but now I think I can do both. Have a job and go to school. I was thinking about it a lot when I was tied up in Mr. Brunner’s boat. I want to learn and then do something with it.”
“Do you know what exactly you’d like to do yet?” asked Abby.
Tom shook his head. “Not exactly – but I thought a lot about the legend that Billy told us, Paul, – with Nanabush trying to be a woodpecker. I realized that I need to be true to myself, especially true to myself as an Ojibway. Like with the self-government ideas. I think they could really do Walpole some good and maybe get other people thinking along the same lines.”
“Who knows, Tom. Maybe you’ll be a leader in your community and change things,” Paul offered. “Well, I guess I should get going. Mom wants to leave soon.”
“Yeah, and Billy’s on his way.”
“And I’ll be back in Windsor soon,” said Abby. “You guys have to write, okay?”
They agreed and gave Abby a brief hug. Tom and Paul shook hands.
“Wait,” said Tom, before they could leave.
“I wanted to say thanks,” Tom said. “For doing so much to find me. For not believing that I would have just left.” He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out two very small pouches of fabric.
“I divided the sacred tobacco for you two. I want you to have it.”
He held his palm out to Paul and Abby.
***
Inspector Ward parked his car along the shore of the Detroit River. He glanced behind him at the single black suitcase in the back seat. It would be good to get back to Toronto.
Stepping out, he felt an urgent wind from the north try to pry away his fedora. He held it tightly to his head until the wind died. Then he thought again about his partner, Hal.
“It’s all over, Hal,” he said quietly to himself. “Thanks to the Martin kid and his friends we got far more done than we expected.”
Silence.
“Listen, I’m sorry about that night. I know you don’t think it was my fault. That’s been my own problem, hasn’t it?”
“God, Hal, I’m still doing all the talking, aren’t I? Just like the old days.” He laughed. “I just wanted to say you were never forgotten, okay?”
The cool north wind picked up again and this time Inspector Ward lifted the hat from his head and placed it on the river. He watched it float away, free for the first time.
The Martin Aboriginal Education Initiative (MAEI) was established in 2008 in order to initiate a variety of educational projects designed to provide Aboriginal Canadians with the opportunities they need to succeed. MAEI brings together Aboriginal organizations, the business community, post-secondary institutions, First Nation schools and provincially-funded school boards to implement programs to support Aboriginal students. It’s goal is to support initiatives that improve education at the elementary and secondary school levels for Aboriginal Canadians.
MAEI believes that the development of knowledge and skills will provide Aboriginal youth with an incentive to continue their education. Projects are chosen in discussion with the pertinent Aboriginal leadership, provincial and territorial education authorities, and local business communities. The model schools initiative includes two Ontario First Nation schools located in Kettle and Stony Point First Nation (Hillside School) and Walpole Island First Nation.
“With all the passion I can muster, with all the faith I feel, with all the confidence I hold in the country we share, I have but one hope...that the next generation of Aboriginal Canadians becomes the generation that stays in school; that breaks the cycle of poverty and despair; that builds the great companies; the generation of First Nations, Métis Nation and Inuit that discovers the new truths of science; that paints the great paintings; that plays the great music; and that brings into this world its own generation of children, who grow up to vie
w life with excitement and hope, full of promise – the bounty of Canada theirs to share at long last.”
-- The Right Honourable Paul Martin
About the AUTHOR
Caroline Woodward is in Grade 12 at Canterbury High School. She’s enrolled in the Literary Arts Program, a stream that focuses on creative writing.
Caroline was born in Montreal and now lives in Ottawa. Showdown at Border Town: An Early Adventure of Paul Martin is her very first (and hopefully not her last) published work.
Fiction or FACT?
Showdown at Border Town:
An Early Adventure of Paul Martin
Don’t read on if you haven’t read the book yet!
Spoiler Alert!
Fast-forward from twelve-year old to accomplished politician. In the midst of a career with Canada Steamship Lines, the real Paul Martin became a Liberal member of parliament. His political life acquired national prominence when, as minister of finance, he erased Canada’s deficit and recorded five consecutive budget surpluses, while paying down the national debt. He also introduced the largest tax cuts in Canadian history.
Martin became the 21st Prime Minister of Canada from 2003 to 2006. He invested in health care, passed a same sex marriage bill, and made large increases in the federal government’s support for education and research and development. He also made large investments in Aboriginal communities as well and carried on this focus after he left office.
Within the imagined plot of this book, I explore Martin’s actual skills, interests and extraordinary contributions to Canada. I’d like to draw your attention to some of the historical truths that I wove into this novel...
Events and truths within this book
The plot revolves around a real police investigation that took place in the summer of 1950. The Province actually dispatched two OPP inspectors to Windsor to probe the activities of
underground gambling joints, speakeasies and bootlegging between Windsor and Detroit. According to the Walkerville Times, as a result, the city’s police chief, Crown attorney, a judge and the chief magistrate were all moved out of their positions. It was found that the illegal activities were all occurring with the full knowledge of some members of the police.
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