Shooting For Justice G. Tilman (short books to read .txt) 📖

The next morning, Pope packed a small carpetbag and put on his workingman guise from his trip South. They headed to the depot and bought seats for Scarsdale.

Once they arrived, a cheap hotel was quickly located. While the area was generally upscale, there was a blue-collar area on the edge of town where workers, shop clerks and unemployed lived.

Logically, it was also where they found flyers posted for meetings of the New York Workers Association, the name Conkling told him the Marxist group used. A meeting was advertised in a hall two nights later.

Sarah and Pope used the time to familiarize themselves with the town. Sarah, in keeping with her cover, bought some basic cleaning items. They also purchased a new sheet, not wanting to sleep on the questionable one on the bed.

They stuck to their cover roles, living and eating as transient, out of work people might.

Two days later, the two detectives walked over to the meeting hall. There was a saloon across the street. Pope ducked in and ordered the first of what would be two draft beers.

Sarah went in and stood in the rear of the hall, acting hesitant.

A man in the front motioned her to the first row of wooden chairs. As Pope feared, her beauty would make her stand out, even in disguise. It also made men want to talk with her and worked in her favor. She did not have to volunteer any of her backstory. The man seemed more interested in keeping her speaking with him than anything else.

Finally, he called the meeting to order. He was clearly the head of the organization.

“Welcome to new comrades in our fight against oppression! I see some new faces,” he said looking at Sara specifically, “and welcome you all. I am Roger Nelson, the president of the chapter.

“First, I would like to report on our successes since the last meeting. We have continued to convert union members in all trades in New York to the Marxist enlightenment. These new Marxists are also voters, you know. We will be heard, no matter how long it takes.

“This chapter is leading the way in a project of national implication. I cannot talk about it further. But trust me. You will read about our success in the newspapers within a week!” Nelson said.

With this, Sarah knew more than ever, she needed to probe Nelson and get his total confidence.

Nelson spoke vehemently for another hour. Several times, he received applause. Sarah always clapped louder and was first to stand when he made a point, she read to be crucial to him.

After the meeting, working people left. Dawn was only six hours away. Several lingered, including Vera Petrov. Nelson seemed to be ushering the others off.

Finally, the two were alone. He made a halfway pretense of rearranging chairs and turning off unnecessary gas lamps.

“Mrs. Petrov, or should I say Miss Petrov,” he began.

She interrupted with “It’s Mrs., but you can call me Vera. I am just a cleaner. Nobody of importance.”

“Vera it is then. Is your husband here with you?”

“Yes, Mr. Nelson. He works as a handyman where he can get jobs. I am looking for a cleaning job. We were in Virginia but could not find employment. He let me come here tonight. He does not care for political things. I do because of what I think my grandparents suffered under in the Ukraine. I think changes need to be made.

“If it was up to me, I’d blow up those politicians!” she said.

“Well, when we get to know one another better, I may tell you something which will excite you. A lot!” Nelson said. “And it is Roger to you, Vera.”

“Good. I like to be excited. Tell me about you. How did you come to lead such an important group as this?” she probed.

“I lived at John Noyes’ Oneida Community for a while. It was a Utopian socialist village. We studied communism and complex marriage, among other things. Oneida is where I became convinced communism is the true path.”

“What is complex marriage?” Sarah asked, truly having no idea.

“It is a form of polygamy. It may be illegal in many places, but we believe mankind is not monogamist. Other cultures thrive with widespread polygamy.”

“I see,” Sarah said.

“Does the idea appeal to you?” he asked.

“I need to think about it. A tumble in the hay every now and then certainly does,” she lied.

He smiled broadly.

“I live alone. Perhaps you can visit soon?” he said.

“Tomorrow night is Monday,” she said as if thinking.

“My husband has a job. Perhaps then? You could tell me more about your special project. I take it you will have to go out of town for it?” Sarah asked.

“I am available tomorrow night. When might you be able to come?”

“Oh, say eight o’clock to be safe?” she asked, knowing the smile signaled success for an entrapment.

He wrote the address on the back of a flyer and handed it to her.

“And yes. I will have to go south for a day or so next Wednesday. The event will happen Thursday. But, with all luck, I can be back Friday night,” Nelson said.

Sarah caressed his cheek and gave him a kiss on it, backing away before he could reciprocate.

“I am so very glad I came tonight. I really believe in your objectives, too,” she said leaving him to pick whether she meant his personal or group objectives. She suspected he would think she meant both.

“Gotta go! I will see you at your house around eight tomorrow night. What should I wear? I’m afraid my monetary situation does not allow a large wardrobe.”

“Clothes may be a temporary issue, my dear,” he said. She smiled seductively, thinking what a self-absorbed little man, to herself.

Sarah breezed out the door before anything further might occur.

Pope was watching for her from the saloon. He waited for her to pass, then fell in step fifty yards behind her.

She turned the corner. Seeing nobody was behind her, he hastened. As he approached