Duplicity

By John Hartig

The far-off town of "Crooked Harbour" is located in Newfoundland, Canada. Two communities of Mi'kmaq Indians and whites strive to live together there in harmony.

It consists of lakes, rocks and trees, though not an ideal place to settle for non-natives. The recent discovery of gold and ores brings jobs, and attracts people from other places. In this backdrop, RCMP are fulfilling their duties to provide safety till the first murder and the first suicide take place.

Benton Wright woke from a nightmare just before dawn. His job dealt with a wide variety of crime over the past half year which was very stressful: senior abuse, poachers, teenage drunkenness, a car theft and, recently, a murder.

Sergeant Benton Wright – a man of principles, caring, devoted and intelligent, ready to spend his own fund to provide a safe haven to the elders, a hangout for the teenagers.

Mi’kmaq and whites join hands to solve crimes and make Crooked Harbour a safe place for the youth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley
• Release date: Apr 23, 2018

John Hartig

John Hartig has an M.A. in English Literature, which he says he earned eons ago. His work history is a coat of many colours, having been an editor of a community newspaper, a high-school teacher, an electrical apprentice, until his back gave out, a web designer, for interest’s sake, and most recently a wedding photographer, because he likes to see people smile. During his retirement years, he writes to keep busy.

Book preview

About the Author

John Hartig moved to Canada from Austria at the age of eight, in 1954. English came quickly after being called a Nazi by some Polish kids at school. Probably none of them knew what that meant. Neither did he!

John speaks English, German and French fluently. He earned an M.A. in English Literature from McMaster University in 1972. His work history includes being a news reporter, editor, a high school teacher, an electrical apprentice, a web designer, a wedding photographer and, most recently, an aspiring poet and novelist.

John designs websites and photographs scenery to keep busy during his retirement years. And, oh yes, he is also a ‘househusband’ having suppers ready for his hardworking wife, who is an elementary school teacher. This allows him the time to write. He and his wife, Marjorie, live in Vineland, Ontario, in the middle of grape and fruit orchard country.

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Dedication

This novel is dedicated to all the anonymous people in the world who go on with their lives without hurting anybody. I’d like to thank the quiet majority for their sense of decency and morality.

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Duplicity

Published by Austin Macauley at Smashwords

Copyright 2018 John Hartig

The right of John Hartig to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the

Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All Rights Reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with the written permission of the publisher, or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is

Available from the British Library.

www.austinmacauley.com

Duplicity, 2018

ISBN 978-1-78848-164-9 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-78848-166-3 (Hardback)

ISBN 978-1-78848-165-6 (Kindle E-Book)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd.

First Published in 2018

AustinMacauley Publishers.LTD/

CGC-33-01, 25 Canada Square

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Acknowledgements

Thanks to Michael Kositsky for excellent suggestions and for proofreading my first novel. He’s been a real pal in doing that. Michael is a composer of music in a variety of genres.

Thanks to Lubo for proofreading my second novel. I used some of Lubo’s great anecdotes from his teaching career to make things more interesting in the story.

I’d also like to thank my dear wife who has given me the time to do all this writing which expresses my creative side and, at the same time, is a great therapy.

Websites:

www.johnhartig.ca

www.johnhartigphotography.com

E-mail:

[e-mail]

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Cast of Main Characters

RCMP Sgt. Benton Wright, in charge of the Crooked Harbour police outpost

Const. Tara Laroche, expert in computers and record keeping

Const. Beau ‘Boo’ Fraser, loveable cop, loves doughnuts

Chief Dan Abenaki, from the Mi’kmaq tribe, chairman of the school board

Steven Brazeau, principal at Crooked Harbour High

Maryanne Brazeau, Steven’s wife who leaves him

Crystal Legrand, the town hussy

Jonathan Legrand, grade 12 teenager, robs school

Aunt Peggy, Jonathan’s aunt, takes Jonathan in

Dean Desjardins, grade 11 buddy

Louis Villeneuve, grade 12 teenager, killed mom in car accident

Sam Smallwood, superintendent of schools

Lee Fitzpatrick, the new principal

Big Ed, poacher from Maine

Tiny, assistant poacher

Lance Mooin, Aboriginal poacher of The Reserve

David Weisman, Hamilton lead detective

Aunt Sophie, winner of the Lotto in Hamilton

Larry de Groote, friendly neighbour next door

Maurice Barrow, Sgt. Wright’s criminal cousin

Grace Arquette, Tara’s mom, a sharp senior

Auntie Jenna, Tara’s aunt [also Grace’s younger sister]

Jason Richards, Happy Haven Senior Home’s manager

Leroy, abusive Personal Support Worker [PSW] at the home

Drew Mitchell, movie producer from Belfast, Maine

Tina Mornay, the starlette

Paul Stroud, captain of the yacht

Celeste Boudreau, Tina’s companion

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Chapter 1

King of the Castle

Just when things started looking up, things started looking down. Damn that Alexander, thought Steven. Mr. Kucharski’s letter of resignation sat there on his desk, staring up at him like an insult. Not even two weeks’ notice! He’d have to look for another English, history and geography teacher, somebody who could teach all three subjects. What complicated things more, however, was that Layla, the combined music and French teacher had transferred out of the school only two months prior. This didn’t look good for Crooked Harbour High School, with not only one but two teachers leaving the school within such short order. Steven sighed over Alexander’s letter of resignation. He tried to tell himself that things were not that bad. Teachers were a dime a dozen, and at least, almost anybody could teach English, history and geography. All you needed was a textbook! A replacement for Layla had been a tad more difficult.

Still, Steven didn’t like the idea of two teachers leaving within two months of each other. The higher-ups would question the morale he did or didn’t inspire in his school. This was just another bureaucratic headache to deal with! Thankfully, the March break lay ahead, so there was some breathing room for finding yet another replacement.

Well, teachers didn’t last long out here anyway, in the boonies, maybe a year or two at the most. Who wants to live in Newfoundland? Next thing you knew, you could be stuck out here forever and become one of ‘them’ adopting a Newfie accent and even laughing at your own Newfie jokes.

Steven Brazeau accepted the fact that life at Crooked Harbour was not for everyone, especially for young teachers coming in from the big city. What did they expect? Plum jobs right away in civilized centers? New blood had to earn their stripes, either ‘up north’ or in remote villages like Crooked Harbour. At least, they’d have a start in a so-called career. Steven, himself, had lasted five years at Crooked Harbour, but it had cost him his marriage. His wife could not handle the lakes, the rocks, the trees, and most of all, the loneliness in the middle of winter.

‘The Reserve’ took some getting used to with its rough-hewn native population. Crooked Harbour was indeed ‘the boonies’, as far as Steven’s wife was concerned. The town had fewer than 5,000 residents, many of them unemployed or on welfare, where everybody stuck their noses into everybody else’s business, and as the old Cheers TV slogan said, ‘Where everybody knows your name.’

About 500 of those residents were Mi’kmaq natives living in tar-paper shacks mostly, south of town. They were organized under Chief Dan Abenaki who had recently applied to Ottawa for status recognition of his people. In the meantime, Ottawa deigned to fund some improvements south of the town, even though Crooked Harbour had not yet received its official status as a reserve.

Despite that, everybody called that side of town, The Reserve. In fact, The Reserve already had its own indigenous police officers selected from the Indian council who held their own separate meetings there, apart from the white man’s town council meetings held at the town hall, supervised by a somewhat rotund Mayor Simpson. This arrangement meant that there were virtually two little local governments within the Crooked Harbour community, run in tandem, thankfully in an amicable coexistence.

The Reserve sent Chief Dan to the white man’s town council meetings every two weeks, where he represented the interests of the local Mi’kmaq people. Chief Dan didn’t say much, but when he spoke, he said things of substance and things which people could trust on both sides. He had good relationships with the town’s mayor and with the local RCMP constabulary too. Chief Dan was also chairman of the Crooked Harbour school board, often talking with Principal Steven Brazeau about the special needs of the Mi’kmaq youth.

It was amusing to see Chief Dan and Principal Brazeau standing side by side. Chief Dan was short in stature, a bit bowlegged. Although he was in his mid-forties, he radiated the energy of a young man. His face was impressive, with the typical chiselled features of the North American Indian. He had black hair and black eyebrows. His soft brown eyes reflected a controlled intelligence and a quiet wisdom. He had a hooked nose which reminded one of an eagle’s beak. To emphasize that image, the chief wore a black jacket which sported a picture of a proud eagle’s head on the back. Chief Dan wore a feather in his cowboy hat and he preferred to wear cowboy boots. Despite his Mi’kmaq heritage, he didn’t care about the irony of an Indian wearing cowboy clothes. He also preferred to listen to country and western music, and occasionally made room in his tastes for soft rock.

Steven had always been fortunate about his good looks. Instead of 35, he looked more like a man on the green side of 30. He was a shade over six feet tall, blessed with a full head of blond hair. He wore glasses, maybe a good thing, to promote his image as a computer geek. Even though he was no athlete, he had broad shoulders but was stooped a bit from hunching over a computer all day. He liked wearing jeans and sport shirts, having a dislike for suits and ties. He liked to project the image of a relaxed administrator.

His wife, however, had other ideas. She wanted him to wear suits and ties, as a professional, but that insistence soon gave way to a futile surrender about making her husband into something more than he really was.

When people met Steven, they felt somehow uneasy in his presence. Unlike Chief Dan, Steven didn’t make eye contact. He was also too wordy at staff meetings, making teachers feel impatient about him not getting to the point. They also didn’t like his micromanaging style of principalship.

One would think that Chief Dan might fit the image of a heavy smoker. After all, he was ‘the Indian’ who wore a feather in his hat, and who dressed like a cowboy! However, Steven was the one who was marked with yellow cigarette stains on his fingers. It was Steven, an ostensibly sophisticated man, who showed the signs on his fingertips of a secret bad habit.

All of the qualified teachers at the high school were white, mainly because few Aboriginals got their teaching degrees. Or if they did, they didn’t want to come back to The Reserve. Those few who graduated used their teaching degree as a means of getting out of the raggedy town, so they could seek a better life in the big city, usually in places like Montreal or Toronto. They were often disillusioned by the lack of jobs even there, and by the impediments that society set up for them because of their looks as natives. As time went by, these educated natives had second thoughts about living in the big city, but by then, they were a lost breed caught within the busy web of city living.

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Chapter 2

The Times, They Are A’Changin

Newfoundland and Labrador seemed to lag far behind the rest of Canada in winning rights for its Aboriginal peoples. For many years, there were no official reservations on the island, itself. It wasn’t until 1973 that the Mi’kmaqs from the entire province came together in one organization called ‘The Federation of Newfoundland Indians’, the purpose of which was to be recognized by Ottawa as a community of First Nations. It took another 11 years until the Indian Act of 1984 for the Conne River Mi’kmaqs to officially win federal status. The quest for status is still a struggle for indigenous peoples outside of the Conne River community. Crooked Harbour natives were no exception, and Chief Dan Abenaki was an activist in that regard, because he knew about the generous benefits which the nation’s capital bestowed upon its indigenous peoples, namely free education and monetary settlements in regard to various abuses inflicted upon the natives throughout Canada’s history.

Old prejudices in Newfoundland were still nurtured by older white folks who just couldn’t seem to let go of their fixed ideas. Some of them still called the chief ‘jackatar’ behind his back. He knew this and took the insult like water running off a duck’s back. A jackatar was an old slur meaning half-breed, French and Indian, hailing from the pioneering days when sailors came off the boat to get native girls pregnant. People at Conne River hid their native ancestry for years for fear of being ridiculed with that name. It was hoped by those who knew better, that this sort of prejudice would die out as the old geezers with their unbending attitudes died out.

The economic interests of the Crooked Harbour town council, the lobbying of the Mi’kmaq leaders in town and the recent discovery of gold gave Crooked Harbour a louder voice in Ottawa. Before long, money trickled in, in the form of government grants, which put siding on the tar shacks south of town for those natives who bothered filling out the necessary government paperwork. A grant was also given to the town to build a community center where folks could play hockey and soccer. Then came a decent seniors’ home and a medical clinic just north of the harbour. At the south end, a marina was built, manned by a significant number of Mi’kmaq people.

The biggest change, however, came from ‘The Lucky Strike Mining Company’ which struck it rich and changed the employment rate of the town. The company found gold to the north-east of Crooked Harbour, and gravel roads soon found their way into this new hub of economic activity.

The owners of the mine were shrewd. They decided to build a huge tourist attraction, known as ‘The Chalet’, which was an impressive building, actually looking like a Swiss chalet lifted right out of Switzerland, housing a restaurant, a conference room and a huge casino. It was located within the acknowledged boundary of The Reserve. The entrepreneurs who owned The Chalet hired and trained Mi’kmaq employees to run the place. Tourists coming in from Maine in the U.S. got an ‘authentic experience’ when they were catered to by indigenous people at The Chalet where a visitor could also book a local camping and hunting excursion.

The Lucky Strike Mining Company enjoyed its image as a good corporate citizen by actively recruiting local indigenous people in their employ. After all, the company’s executive saw itself in business, not only for business, but also for promoting good public relations with the people who lived in the area where they made their money. Both whites and natives prospered as the gold mine prospered. Dollar signs seemed to float in from Ottawa’s generous grants, the tourist trade from the United States, and most of all, from the residual effects of the local mining industry.

Five years back, Steven Brazeau landed his job as principal at the Crooked Harbour High School during the start of the boom years. He had only two years of teaching experience in Ontario, but a principalship, even in Newfoundland, would be a big promotion for him. What the heck, he thought, it’s a step into administration. Even though he was an expert in computers, he didn’t like teaching kids in an actual classroom setting, what he called ‘the trenches’. He didn’t like disciplining. A principalship would be a ticket out of the classroom and be what he imagined was