I glimpsed Agnes Lake, sitting on a chair near the front of the room, her beautiful coloured shawl wrapped around her small body, her straight grey hair piled elegantly on top of her head and tied with a red ribbon. I went straight up to her, and squatting beside her, I placed my hand on hers. She smiled serenely at me. Her sharp brown eyes seemed to pierce my inner thoughts.
"You will speak with me today," she said, her voice raised only slightly at the end, making the statement more of a command than a question.
I nodded, letting go of her hand and straightening up in front of Edgar. When the tall, usually reserved police chief saw me, he reached out his strong arms and pulled me into a huge hug. "You're in this again, eh, Emily? I think I'd better give you a badge."
I laughed. "Better talk to Langford Taylor before you say stuff like that, Chief Superintendent Brennan."
Edgar released me with a smile and I went back to stand with May. He waited for a few more people to arrive, including Basil and Henry, and then he called us all to have a seat and to come to attention.
"All right, we've got a few items to attend to, everyone," he said, his voice authoritative and strong. "All the individuals involved have made statements. They've been typed up and they're ready to be signed this morning. But I thought we might all fill each other in on how everything unfolded—just so each one of us—especially myself and my team of officers, as well as the Native Council—have as complete a picture as possible."
"Before we do that, I'd like to commend everyone involved, especially Frances, Marty, and Chief Dan, and all the other officers and council members. The tragedy was bad enough, with the deaths of Victor Reeves and Frieda, but it could have been so much worse. A special thanks to Emily Taylor and Agnes Lake as well. Without their influence, the outcome would not have gone our way. Anyhow, let's get going, and I'm sure each of you will see that, without certain parts being played, the result would not have been as positive as it was."
With fits and starts, back tracking and forgotten insertions, the entire story did at last emerge.
Frieda had begun her quest for the scroll by attempting to get back into Oona's good graces, for she suspected that Oona and Agnes Lake would have the knowledge necessary for tracking down the scroll. Oona, suspicious of her old friend's motives, pretended to go along with Frieda, even drinking with her in the pub and talking about amassing more wealth, something that was anathema to her true philosophy. But trust did not exist in their relationship any longer, so Frieda, in turn, did not have complete faith in Oona's statements. Their friendship continued to deteriorate.
Oona was aware of the legend and the existence of a scroll. Her suspicion of Frieda's true motives had been inscribed on the back of that picture in her cabin. Perhaps she'd drawn the scroll as a symbol of Frieda's greed, or maybe she was exploring her own thoughts and feelings. We were never to know, as Oona's memory, even later, was sporadic.
Once she had recovered her ability to speak, Oona confirmed that she had had no real proof that the scroll was not just a legend, and she certainly could not believe that it had been found in her cabinet. However, Agnes verified that Frieda had admitted, in the cave, that she had found the scroll tucked in the corner of an unused cubbyhole in Oona's hut.
Frieda had no trust for Victor Reeves, either, and was not prepared to give the scroll to him immediately. She kept it with her at all times, until she went into the woods to follow Oona.
"My guilt would not allow me to take it when I went to find her," she told Agnes. "I hid it under the tree, the tree that Oona used to mark her trail."
In the meantime, Oona decided that she had to act. The legends were strong with stories of Walking Bear and how he intervened to prevent the land from being ravaged. She believed that Frieda was somehow involved with Victor Reeves. She knew for sure that her old friend had been given money by his organization. She was just uncertain about the reason, although she was aware that Frieda had stepped up her trapping operations.
Oona fetched her father's bear headdress, fashioned boots and mittens from bear claws, and began to set a trap for Frieda. She knew that only Frieda would be able to follow the trail of Walking Bear that Oona laid out. After all, Frieda had been Oona's star pupil. She deliberately pointed to Legend Twenty through her circles around the tree, knowing Frieda would immediately connect to Walking Bear. Oona had counted on Frieda's innate childhood fears to keep her off balance and enticed into going deep into the forest.
It was a dreadful irony that led Frieda right into the jaws of a real bear trap, pinning her to the ground in agony, slicing through skin and bone and damaging her leg almost beyond repair. Yet Oona began to see this occurrence as almost a blessing. Frieda was forced to rely on Walking Bear for her comfort, healing, and sustenance. Oona's spiritual experiences with Frieda in the cave, and her old friend's transformation, pushed Oona into another plane. She began to believe that she had been destined to become Walking Bear.
When Frieda and Oona disappeared, Victor Reeves was convinced they had absconded with the scroll. He believed that Oona had persuaded Frieda to sell the information to the highest bidder.
According to Peter Smallwood, Reeves was a greedy, condescending and evil man, who had made enemies even of his employees and partner. He continued to berate Evan Fobert on how he had handled the situation with Frieda and the scroll. The moment Frieda disappeared, he gave Fobert the ultimatum that he find her or, as controlling shareholder, Reeves would remove Evan from the company before any profits were realized.
Evan Fobert went on a fact-finding mission. He read through the legends. He discovered Peter Smallwood's gambling weakness and recruited him. He encouraged Victor's inherent animosity toward the natives, spurring him on when he began to insult them, such as when he fought with Henry. Evan Fobert wanted no one to mourn Victor Reeves' loss. He also wanted plenty of suspects, because Evan Fobert planned to be rid of his partner one way or another.
When Peter reported his discovery of Oona and Frieda in the cave, Fobert decided they would take Victor Reeves out in the woods too, to be taught a lesson. It appears that Peter genuinely believed no one would be seriously hurt. Fobert was currently, and probably inadvertently, corroborating Peter's assertions. At first, Evan told the police interrogators, he thought Victor Reeves would give in, would stop threatening him, would change his ways. Fobert claimed that, after a few hours in captivity, Reeves was only more determined to eliminate Fobert from the gold strike. It was either kill Victor or be killed by him eventually. It was amazing to the rest of us just how skewed their thinking had been.
Meanwhile, Agnes, though she had initially not approved of what Oona was doing, observed that Frieda was transforming, and that once she was physically and mentally healed, Frieda had the potential to be a spiritual and benevolent person. Victor Reeves' arrival in the woods made Agnes extremely nervous and she once again tried to persuade Oona to stop. By then, however, Oona was under a spell and believed she had truly evolved into the persona of Walking Bear. Agnes, mindful of Legend Twenty and her role as spiritual leader, decided that she had to stay with Oona and guide her to eventually release both of them.
Evan Fobert's men were telling a far more damning, and probably truthful, story about their former boss. They were sent into the cave to kill Victor, not persuade him to change his ways. They had been instructed to remove Frieda. She still had the scroll. However, the 'woman in the bear outfit' jumped on them, trying to prevent them from taking Victor out of the cave, and they had had to beat her into submission. Then suddenly the injured woman, the 'one with the splint on her leg', had leapt up and attacked them too. One of the men admitted pulling out his gun and shooting.
They verified that Peter Smallwood had entered the cave at the sound of a barrage of bullets and induced them not to murder the Shaman. Peter convinced them that Agnes's status as a spiritual leader meant that she would have wide knowledge of the scroll and the legends and therefore she would be useful to Fobert. Frieda and
Oona appeared to be dead. They needed Agnes.
The criminals subsequently ensconced themselves in Frieda's house, keeping both Agnes and Ellie captive as collateral and inducement for Peter's co-operation. They tore the place apart searching for the scroll, convinced it had to be inside Frieda's home. When they couldn't find any trace of it, they had Smallwood search the village, Oona's hut, the museum, and the caves for any sign of or clue about the scroll.
At first, Agnes remained in a trance, refusing to speak with Peter or anyone else. It wasn't until Agnes finally spoke to him that he discovered its hiding place. The Shaman convinced him to leave the clues for the police and Chief Dan. He placed the headdress in the woods near Bahswaway, assured by Agnes that Edgar and his team would not stop looking. He left a ragged piece of Frieda's shawl, with its distinctive hand-quilted symbols and coloured buttons, on Chief Dan's porch.
When Peter was asked why he didn't simply come and tell the police or Chief Dan, Peter replied that he believed he was always followed, though at a distance, by one of Evan Fobert's men. If they questioned his actions, he could explain dumping the headdress in the woods as a distraction. Bird was calling too much attention to its loss. The police might be galvanized into resuming the searches and perhaps discovering the bodies, so let Bird find it.
Before leaving the diadem, Peter had taken it home, ensuring that it was reinforced with Buckthorn twigs and maple sap, two items that were distinctive to his yard alone. The former was not native to Burchill and the only tree to be found in the area was in his yard. The latter did not spill from any other tree so early in the season, except from his lightning-damaged maple. He knew that Edgar would be immediately aware of these two clues. Edgar had often commented on the Buckthorn and the quirk of that maple tree. Little did Peter know that Edgar had left Burchill to stay with Oona in the hospital.
In between thinking about all the twists and turns of the story, I was suddenly very alert to two words—Buckthorn twigs. I remembered the pointy little thumbs on the tree outside the Smallwood property and covering the bear headdress. Now I knew what I was allergic to. No more Buckthorn for me in the future.
Peter had told Fobert he was going to search Chief Dan's property for the scroll when the native leader was away. Dropping the piece of shawl on the porch had been furtive and quick. These had all been Agnes's ideas. She was right when she surmised that Edgar or Frances, but especially the Native Chief, would interpret the signs correctly and come looking for them in the right places.
Peter dared not do anything that Fobert or his men might see as suspicious. He could not bring himself to speak to anyone or to act in any way that he could not explain to them. He was certain they would kill Ellie, and probably Agnes, without a second thought. The only way to secure their release, Peter believed, was to turn over the scroll, take the payment they had promised, and disappear from Burchill.
When it was pointed out to Peter that they would never have let him go anyway, Peter acknowledged that his thinking process had been twisted, that he was confused and terrified, and that his decisions had been terribly wrong, right from the very beginning.
Edgar reassured us, in answer to our unspoken questions, that Peter's testimony against Evan Fobert and his men, along with his co-operation and part in apprehending them without further victims, would ensure a lighter sentence. And despite Peter's faults, his weaknesses and offenses, it appeared that everyone in that room at least, was relieved.
Once Chief Dan received the shawl, he alerted the police. Fortunately, Martin Michano had not gone home as he'd said he would, but had returned to the station, anxious to develop his pictures, and it had been he who answered the Chief's call. When he was unable to reach Frances on her cell phone, he called in the other officers and the volunteers. Chief Dan gathered the Native Council members and met Marty at Frieda's house.
Without our signal at the window, Marty admitted that he would probably have doubted the Chief's conclusions and forced everyone away from the property.
The native leader, however, looking over at Agnes, said that he had felt her presence on that shawl, and in Frieda's house. But without that signal, he might have charged in, unaware that armed men would have been waiting for them. A small silence met his statement. It was as though an intimacy had been shared in public that caused everyone to feel embarrassed.
Basil Fisher's deep voice broke into the quiet. "What was on the scroll?" he asked, something all of us were anxious to find out.
"I'll let May tell you that news," Edgar said, gesturing for her to come forward.
May stood in front of us all, her face flushed with excitement. "It seems that the land that has been claimed by the Crown all these years actually belongs to my Aunt Oona," she said, her voice shaking a little with wonder and promise. "My uncle Charles Nabigon, Oona's husband, inherited it from his ancestors. Charles, ill with cancer at such a young age and having lost his only children, had a will made that ensured Oona would inherit everything. For some reason, he never told her about the land."
"The scroll is quite old, but authentic, and had been registered with the Crown a very long time ago. No one ever bothered to research it properly, even when Victor Reeves applied to the government to buy the land. It seems the registration was lost in some misplaced files and never retrieved. But it will be now. And won't they have egg on their faces for failing to follow the proper processes?"
The whole room burst into the kind of laughter that results from the rush of happiness at exacting revenge. This time it payback for a faceless bureaucracy that had not shown any kind of willingness to look into Burchill's entitlements and complaints. Recorded voices that had told the townspeople over and over again to follow the proper processes.
The laughter was also a release of emotions and lasted long enough to bring tears to many of the eyes in that room. It was joy at the thought that Oona, whose husband and children had died so young and whose life had not been easy—that Oona, who had been a champion of the land since she could talk—would be the one to lay claim to the disputed property. It was relief that no more blood would be shed. That the greedy and the weak had been thwarted.
May continued once it was quiet again. "As for the gold deposit and Victor Reeves' claim that the expert he hired found something worth a great deal of money. All of the papers have been handed over to a geologist. She will research the claim and let us know. She did caution us that very large strikes are rare this far south in the Canadian Shield, but she also said it's certainly possible. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, and of course, whatever the outcome of the investigation, it will be up to Oona to decide what to do with the land."
Once May sat down again, Edgar never did get the crowd under control, nor did he try very hard. Everyone got to his or her feet, slapping each other on the back, shaking hands, hugging, crying. We all experienced a great deal of catharsis, a kind of healing, and we took our leave slowly. At the door, May offered to drive me home, but I looked back at Agnes.
"No, thanks, May, I think I'll walk Agnes home," I told her.
My friend looked closely at me, knowing there was something I wasn't saying, but she hugged me and did not ask questions. Agnes and I bundled up in our winter woollies and began to walk up Main Street toward Sahsejewon.
Above us, angry clouds punched the air and sent a cold and piercing wind flying into our faces. We pulled scarves and collars up to protect our cheeks. Our bodies were buffeted like sails as we drove ourselves through the gathering storm. By the time we reached Agnes's cozy little home, large flakes of snow were doing cartwheels over the lawns, freezing on any part of our flesh that we hadn't managed to cover. We both puffed and sighed as we landed in the small entranceway, stamping up and down as we divested ourselves of our heavy clothing.
Agnes's home was a beautiful log cabin that had been built by her grandfather. Every log was carefully placed without nails or screws and remains in its natural state. The ceiling was at least twelve feet high.
Inside the open, large living area was a huge stone fireplace, which Agnes quickly lit. One corner of the room was dedicated to the kitchen. A modern bar had been built around the refrigerator and stove, with stools for sitting and talking while food was being made.
It was not here that I went, however. Agnes motioned me to one of the wingback chairs in front of the fire and I gratefully followed her direction. A lovely soft fur was folded on the seat and I tucked it around my legs, feeling safe and warm and comfortable. After everything that had happened, I almost felt like falling asleep, yet I was alert to Agnes's movements. I looked around the room as she puttered silently with a kettle and cups.
There were so many artefacts in Agnes's home that it could have been part of Bird's museum. Beautiful furs, soap carvings, decorations designed in wood, feathers and dried flowers together in various arrangements, a large natural walking stick, baskets and clay pots, all in various shapes and sizes, dotted the room. But it didn't look crowded or overstuffed. It felt wide open and spacious, yet warm and welcoming.
Agnes sat in the chair next to me and handed me a large mug. It was a hot, steaming liquid, sweet and tasting of mint, and I sipped at it gratefully. Agnes tucked her feet under another fur and we sat companionably for a few moments, both of us staring into the red and blue flames of the fire. Then, without notice or introduction, Agnes began to tell me a story.
"There was a young man who was very sick when he was young," she said. "He was so ill and weak that the young man spent most of his childhood inside his hut. He could only watch as the other children played with sticks and ran around the village. His mother and father would bring him out on a chair to watch the celebrations. He was never able to partake of a shawl dance or a plea for rain."
"When he was older, he began to sit outside for long hours. He had to merely watch as his peers went out on their quests for vision that would bring them into manhood. His own manhood was reached only in the confines of the village. He spent many hours at the forest edge, watching the animals, observing the plants, following the flights of the birds."
The Emily Taylor Mystery Bundle Page 36
