The Mystery of the Moonlight Murder (15 page)

The stranger instantly scrambled away from André, his knife still in hand. He ran in the opposite direction of the dozen mounted police officers. Sergeant English nodded to Constable Wood, giving him permission to apprehend the fleeing man.

“Cyrus Ramsey! Stop!” Constable Wood hollered. But Cyrus had no intention of stopping, or even slowing down. Constable Wood squeezed his horse's sides with his heels and accelerated. Constable Wood's horse galloped after and quickly overtook the fleeing man. The officer drew his horse beside the knifewielding man and leapt, landing on top of him. He knocked Cyrus to the ground watching him roll two feet away, the knife landing beside him. The fugitive reached for the knife, whirling around to face the officer. By this time, Constable Wood had already drawn his gun, pointing it directly at the snarling face before him.

“I'm only going to ask you this once,” said Constable Wood. “Drop it.”

***

Meanwhile, as the police burst onto the scene, the grizzled, limping Cecil had jumped into his wagon as fast as he could,

immediately ending his deal with someone in the crowd. One of the police officers quickly intercepted him, steering his horse directly in front of the rickety wagon filled with barrels.

As Cecil was protesting the seizure of his wagon, Sergeant English joined the other officers momentarily to oversee.

“It's water, just plain water. I don't even drink!” Cecil protested.

One of the officers popped open a spout near the top of the barrel and tipped it into his cupped hand, tasting it. He frowned in confusion.

“It is water, Sergeant. He's right. No whisky here.”

Sergeant English scowled.

“We'll see about that. Step back,” he said in his deep voice. He pulled out his gun and shot the barrel near the bottom. Liquid came gushing out and he pointed to the same officer.

“No!” howled Cecil.

“Now taste it.”

The officer cupped his hand and took a sip.

“Whisky! How…?” the officer began.

The sergeant knocked on the top of one of the barrels. “False top. He keeps a few inches of water in the top and all the rest is whisky. Got a tip last week there were a few American smugglers getting a bit more creative in their whisky sales. Arrest him. He's the least of my worries. I've got an escaped murderer to deal with. And a would-be rebellion leader.”

Moments later, Sergeant English climbed up to the centre of the makeshift stage with the intent of clearing out the shocked crowd. Three quarters of the crowd hadn't moved as they tried to figure out what was going on. The rest had fled, once the officers had arrived, not wanting to be involved in any way.

A subdued André stood surrounded by numerous police officers, clearly in their custody as well. He and Cyrus Ramsey, who was also secured by several burly police officers, glared at one another.

“This meeting is now over,” Sergeant English projected in his deep voice.

Someone from the audience spoke up. “Chester Atkinson, I'm a reporter from the
Langham Times
. Who is that man?” he asked, pointing to André. “The Diefenbaker boy said he's not related to Gabriel Dumont at all.”

Sergeant English glowered at the reporter but decided to answer. It wouldn't do any harm to be in the papers, especially for a success like this, the sergeant realized. He figured it would be good publicity for people to know that the Mounties always get their man.

“The Diefenbaker boy was right,” said Sergeant English. “This man is no relation to the rebel leader. In fact, his real name is André Dupont, not Dumont.”

The crowd gasped. John, standing at the front of the audience with his father, uncle, Elmer, and Summer was still aston-

ished, even though the Métis elder had assured him he was no relation to the rebel leader. André had seemed so passionate about this cause. Why would he pretend to be someone he was not? The crowd began chattering until the sergeant began speaking again.

“Dupont and this man, Cyrus Ramsey,” he said, gesturing to the scar-faced man, “were partners in a few bank heists in Winnipeg. Although Dupont was out of his league when he got mixed up with this one.

“Ramsey is a convicted murderer. He killed three people in cold blood two years ago and he was sentenced to life in prison. We learned that even his Winnipeg lawyer didn't want to represent him anymore. He said it would go against his principles.”

“Wow, a lawyer with integrity. Who was it?” asked the reporter.

“Let's see…an Arthur Meighen,” the sergeant replied after checking his notepad.

“Never heard of him,” said the reporter to himself. The sergeant continued. “But Cyrus Ramsey managed to escape even before arriving at the prison. A few months ago, he and Dupont made the unfortunate choice of teaming up to rob a bank in Winnipeg. Police arrived in time to capture Ramsey. Dupont however, escaped.”

“Abandoned me more like it!” shouted Ramsey from where he stood surrounded by officers. “I was left to rot and there was

no way I was going to allow some smooth-talking, two-faced liar get away with it!”

“It's not my fault you weren't fast enough to escape,” Andre fired back. “I didn't turn you in, you made your own bed.”

Ramsey began struggling more. The police forced him further away from André and away from the crowd, too.

The reporter was writing furiously. “So the train escape the other night…that was Ramsey?” he asked.

The sergeant nodded. “Yes. He escaped while being transferred to another prison because of overcrowding. He learned that Dupont was in the Borden area and timed his escape for that stop. This time, he'll be personally escorted wherever he goes until the courts can put him away for good.”

Chester fired off another question. “Then Dupont changed his name to Dumont and adopted a Métis identity?”

“Oh, he really is Métis, but an urban Métis from Winnipeg, Manitoba. With Dupont's last name being similar, we think he began to fantasize about being related to the real Dumont and researched his life to be convincing. His parents were poor, trying to make a life in Winnipeg. Unfortunately, his father died when Dupont was very young and his mother abandoned him when he was just twelve. Rough time, right before a boy becomes a man.”

“You lie! My mother loved me! She wouldn't do that… she… couldn't have done…” André began.

The sergeant went on. “When a representative of the government heard about the boy living alone, he found Dupont at home with another family in Winnipeg who agreed to adopt him. I think they made a mistake there. According to the information we gathered, he was regularly mistreated. And that's when he began getting into trouble with the law, mainly through lying and cheating, just enough to get by.”

“My mother loves me,” repeated André, almost in a hoarse whisper. “It was the government that took my life away. The government worker ruined everything, don't you see? They took me away and gave me to others…people who didn't want me…”

John stared at the slumped shoulders of the young man who had seemed so confident, so sure of himself only a short time ago. Andre had mobilized so many people in such a short period of time, inspiring them with his words. He had intervened to help John, Elmer, and Summer from the shady whisky smuggler in Borden and had saved John from drowning in the North Saskatchewan River. He had challenged everything John believed about life in the West. Now, he seemed very different in these last few minutes. The truth had transformed him into another person, a smaller man who was weighed down with great sadness.

The crowd was now near frenzy because of the information overload. Sergeant English decided to take the opportunity to

acknowledge how much had happened in the past week.

“Look, folks, it's been a busy week for a small town. We've had a homesteader tragically killed, a con artist here take up much of our time, thefts, a prairie fire and a prisoner escape. We have reinforcements now from Saskatoon and we're going to get to the bottom of all of these things.”

Summer looked at John in confusion, and John realized the saying confused her. “Getting to the bottom of these things means they're going to figure out what happened,” explained John. As he explained this, John felt his stomach flip. He took a step forward from the crowd toward Sergeant English.

“Sergeant English?” said John, projecting his voice well.

“Yes, hello young Diefenbaker!” said the sergeant in a good natured way, causing the crowd to laugh.

“Sergeant, with all due respect, you haven't found the killer of Mr. Hans Schneider yet.”

The crowd immediately gave a combination of gasps and instant chattering until the sergeant held up his hand for quiet. He peered at John intently.

“Son, I know River's Voice is a friend of your family's, but…”

“Sergeant English, I can prove it,” interrupted John.

Chapter 16
Going Home

Sergeant English attempted to dismiss whatever John was about to say, but the crowd would have none of it, including the reporter. They still remembered the image of John standing tall and inspiring with his words just moments before.

“Let's hear what the boy has to say!” shouted a settler.

“Yes, we want to hear!” shouted members of the Cree.

“Fine,” said the sergeant, half amused. “What do you have, son?”

John took a deep breath while his family looked on. “A great deal of your case is based upon the eyewitness account of Mr. and Mrs. Jennings, who said they saw River's Voice and Mr. Schneider arguing. The Jennings apparently heard River's Voice threaten Mr. Schneider. One day later, Mr. Schneider was murdered.

“That's right,” said Sergeant English. “Eyewitnesses are always important in police work.”

“Except in this case,” said John, “your eyewitnesses claim

they heard River's Voice threaten Mr. Schneider with ‘You'll pay for this.'”

“Yes, what of it?” asked Sergeant English.

“With all due respect to River's Voice, English is a language he still finds very challenging. Even his daughter, my friend Summer Storm here,” John said, gesturing to Summer, “has had more English language instruction, and she doesn't yet recognize common English sayings. I would suggest there is no way the Jennings heard River's Voice say ‘You'll pay for this.' He would not even have known what that meant.”

Talking instantly rippled across the crowd. Sergeant English began to entrench his position.

“We still have his necklace that was found on the Schneider's property.”

“Yes,” said John, “but we know that River's Voice visited the Schneider farm once before and he believes he may have lost it then.”

“Son, why are you so determined to complicate things?” The senior police officer felt pressure to try and preserve the arrest he had originally made.

“I'm sorry, Sergeant, that is not my intention. But I visited River's Voice in prison last week…”

“You did what?” he asked, perturbed.

“…and I know I shouldn't have been there,” added John. “I told him I'd leave no stone unturned in finding out the truth.”

John paused for dramatic effect. “By the way, he didn't know what that meant either, but I just wanted to keep my promise.” The crowd erupted into loud chatter. The Cree felt a collective surge of hope. William placed his hand on John's shoulder and squeezed it, letting his eldest son know that he supported him.

“Young Diefenbaker is right again!” someone shouted. “Listen to the boy!” another voice from the back could be heard.

As Sergeant English tried to quell the noise by holding up his arms, a sheepish-looking man and woman moved toward Constable Wood from where they had been standing in the crowd. John recognized them as Kyle and Isabelle Jennings— the police eyewitnesses! They had been at the rally all this time. The tall constable bent his ear toward them, nodding a few times and then all the colour seemed to drain from his face. The athletic officer hopped onto the stage and apparently repeated something in a low voice to Sergeant English. The sergeant, too, looked dismayed. He cleared his throat. Certainly, he could shut down the meeting down right now, but at this point the veteran police officer would risk causing a riot, especially with the Cree and Assiniboine here in such large numbers.

“Upon further reflection,” began Sergeant English, “Mr. and Mrs. Jennings say they may have made an error in what they heard that day. It seems that the enthusiasm for being a part of

the excitement of an arrest led them to state that they heard River's Voice utter a death threat.”

The crowd held its breath. Indians and Métis alike wanted to know that one of their own was innocent. And the non-Native people loved the idea of one of their own, especially just a boy, showing up the police force.

“In fact, they now say they were too far away to hear anything.”

The Cree, the Assiniboine, the Métis, and even many of the settlers erupted into a cheer.

“Free River's Voice!” shouted Chief Five Hawks.

“Free him! He is innocent!” others yelled. Summer felt her stomach flip.

John was amazed that the crowd was so much on River's Voice's side now but was so against him earlier. He began to realize that people sometimes think differently when they are in groups. He looked over at Earl and seemed torn whether or not to speak out about his strange behavior, too. But something wasn't quite right. John was still missing something and his instincts told him to wait.

Sergeant English scowled before responding.

“River's Voice told us himself that he believed Hans Schneider stole a large collection of his pelts. That's motive for the crime. And we have no other credible suspect.” John suddenly had the realization he was looking for. “Fox

and beaver pelts, right Sergeant? Found in the Schneider's barn?”

The sergeant looked surprised. “Yes…but how did you know that? We haven't released that information yet. I asked Gertrude not to mention what kinds of pelts were found nor where they were found because it was part of our ongoing investigation.”

“Mrs. Schneider didn't tell me, Sergeant. So you might want to ask Mr. Dupont that question. He's the one who told me what kind of pelts and where they were found. He told me this when we saw him near the Long River Reservation, along the banks of the North Saskatchewan River. So the question is how did
he
know?”

The crowd began to buzz again.

“In some way, Sergeant,” said John, speaking over the increasing crowd noises, “Mr. Dupont is involved in all of this. And perhaps it has something to do with the murder of Hans Schneider after all.”

“The man has an alibi. He was in the hotel the night of the murder,” began Sergeant English.

“Yes, but what if he wasn't working alone?” surmised John. “What if someone else was in that field when Mr. Schneider died?”

Sergeant English was regretting that he had tried to do any of this publicly for the sake of a good newspaper story. The reporter, Chester, was writing furiously now. Before the sergeant

could reply, a quiet voice spoke up from behind the stage, just barely audible. “Duncan took them.” It was André.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Sergeant English, turning towards his prisoner. The officers who held him brought him forward more so he could be heard more clearly.

“John Diefenbaker is right. Duncan Rainey, a man I work with, took the pelts,” André said more clearly. “His job was to take things from the Indians and Métis and place them on the property of white settlers and then to do the same in reverse. One of those things was a Cree-made necklace he had found on the reservation.

“The necklace!” said John.

Andre continued. “When he found, and then stole, a valuable collection of pelts from the Cree man's shed, I asked him to plant those in the Schneider's barn.”

“Why?” asked Constable Wood.

“I had heard Hans Schneider was prejudiced against all Indians and I knew this would help to build up conflicts and disagreements between Indians and white settlers.” The crowd gasped.

“I asked him to use the necklace he had also taken and plant it in the field of Hans Schneider. That's when he went to drop the necklace in the field, but he…he found…”

“He found Mr. Schneider working in the field late that night and was caught in the act. So he killed him,” said John, “rather than be captured.” André nodded.

A surge of voices from the crowd ensued and the remaining police officers moved forward to prevent them from coming closer to the front where André was in custody.

“No one was supposed to get hurt,” said André sadly and quietly all of a sudden, speaking only to John now. “I was very angry when he told me he had killed someone. I also told him to leave your family's homestead alone, John. I told him to spare the Diefenbaker's or he would answer to me.”

John stared into André's eyes as William and Ed looked at one another in astonishment. That explained why nothing bad had happened on their own homestead, other than the near-miss by the fire caused by the storm. The officers worked to contain the crowd again.

Sergeant English shook his head in disbelief at the turn of events.

“It seems as if we have a budding lawyer in our midst,” he said, looking directly at John and speaking over the noise.

“At our earliest opportunity tomorrow morning…and given this new information…” the sergeant began, after a pause.

The crowd noise abruptly stopped as everyone held their breath.

“River's Voice will be free to go home.”

Cheers erupted across the field, and no one shouted with more joy than the Cree and no one among the Cree more than Summer Storm. John blushed as his father, uncle, Elmer, and Summer slapped him on the back and hugged him. Many of the Cree came forward to thank John. Chief Five Hawks nodded to John in silence, with just a hint of amusement playing about his face. The Métis, too, were pleased that André would no longer be impersonating the nephew of Gabriel Dumont, for the real Dumont was revered for his exploits across the prairies.

Sergeant English jumped off the wagon to speak with André and two other officers. Immediately afterwards, a few other officers set about dispersing the remainder of the crowd. John inched closer and heard Sergeant English issue new orders.

“Tessier, I want you and Howe to find Mr. Duncan Rainey who is apparently camped out on the northwest corner of the old Stinson farm, a few miles from here. Ask William or Ed Diefenbaker for more detailed directions,” said the sergeant, motioning the two men over to their group. William and Ed proceeded to share their knowledge of the area with the officers who were from out of town. Within a short time, the two officers leapt onto their horses and sped away, leaving small eddies of dust swirling on the ground behind their fast-moving steeds. Summer, surrounded by the Cree now, began to cry in relief as she struggled to absorb everything. Her father had not com-

mitted the crime he was accused of. She had always known this, and now, thankfully, everyone else did, too. A few Cree neighbours put their arms around her shoulders, giving her quick hugs. She felt exhilarated with what this meant—her father would soon be home where he belonged.

While Summer talked with members of the Cree, John and Elmer looked over at Earl, who was uncharacteristically keeping to himself. Before John had a chance to say hello, Earl moved briskly to his trademark canary yellow wagon, looking over his shoulder once. He climbed aboard his wagon, pulled his hat on tighter and commanded his two horses to leave the area at a brisk trot.

John wondered about his quick exit but his eyes were drawn to someone else right now. As the noise level continued unabated, John couldn't help but notice André, who stood sullenly between two officers with his arms secured behind his back, looking small, frail and alone. He was a shell of the man John had observed before, looking worn out and very confused. André seemed to be in a different place now, a different time, even. John felt uncomfortable watching him when he realized the officers were taking him to their wagon. As he was being led away, André suddenly turned to John. “Have you seen my mother, John? I think she's at home, don't you?”

John didn't know what to say, so he nodded quietly. It didn't seem right to argue with him when something this painful had changed him, something that had triggered his mind to deny the truth so deeply.

“We're going to get him some help,” said Sergeant English kindly to John, showing more compassion than John had expected. “He may even be sent to his home city of Winnipeg.”

As André was led closer to the wagon, he continued to talk to John.

“Did you hear that, John? I'm going home. We're lucky to have such loving parents, aren't we, John? You and I will do great things some day. Great things.”

He looked serene as he climbed into the wagon, believing with all his heart that he was going home.