Hello there, my friends! I've been missing for a while again, but I have a few upcoming posts, so stay tuned for that.
Today, I'm thrilled to bring you an excerpt from To Pledge Allegiance by Robert W. Smith.
Excerpt
It was nearly one in the afternoon when the funeral crowd began to trickle into the restaurant. Most had arrived by rail, making the short walk up Wolf Road to the restaurant. MoMo Storino, One-Ear Raimondi, even the recently paroled Irish thug, Lucky O’Leary, like the Litany of the Saints performed live on stage. The politicians in attendance were largely retired and immune to bad publicity. Conor spotted reporters and cops, lots of cops, with no way to distinguish among dirty cops, curious cops, and on-duty cops. A few might have attended only to be certain the gangster was dead.
The drinks were free after one-thirty, and around two o’clock the crowd began to mill upstairs for the luncheon. The meal officially began with Father Militello’s rendition of the Grace, an obligatory act of the Catholic mourners. The old priest’s manufactured tears and fond recollections of “a great and generous” man warranted a Jameson, but Conor decided against it. He was here for a reason. No doubt this cleric would miss his regular cut of the ill-gotten proceeds from the “great man.”
The disgustingly effusive speeches and stories carried beyond the antipasto, the minestrone, three types of pasta, and clear into the tiramisu until, at last, the gathering began to dissipate, and the mourners left or gathered in small groups at the bar. The drinks were still free, but Conor held it at three. He wasn’t here to drink any more than he was here to mourn.
Viviana came to him at the bar as he’d hoped, where they stood shoulder to shoulder without acknowledging one another. “Water,” she said to the bartender.
Conor didn’t turn to face her. “I need to talk with you.”
“I know,” she replied. “Let’s go outside. They have a few tables. It’s cold so we’ll be alone.”
Conor knew only too well how much she detested her father, at least he thought he did. He struggled to find the appropriate words. Keep it simple, nothing religious or hypocritical. “I’m sorry, Viviana. He was your father.”
“I keep telling myself that.”
“I saw in the papers you were performing in St. Louis when he died.”
She laughed gently. “Are you still stalking me?”
He shrugged. “I like to think I’m not but. . .”
Once outside, she said, “It’s time we talked.” Then she leaned back in the chair. “How would you like to do this? Would you like to ask me questions or should I give it to you all at once?”
“First let me take a guess. You have a three-month-old baby and I’m the father?”
She laughed as a waitress came out the back door. The woman seemed surprised to see them. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know anyone was out here. Too chilly. I just came out for some air. Can I get you folks something? Open bar closes in fifteen minutes.”
Conor waved her off. “No, thanks. We’re fine.”
Viviana turned back to Conor. “I wish that were the case. It would be simpler. Go ahead. Fire away.”
“This means you know more than you’re telling me.”
“Much more.”
He was afraid to go further down this road. Was he about to learn all the answers? How much did she know? Was she going to say she lied to him? He wondered how ugly this could get and that fact terrified him to his core. Alright, get to the heart of it and find out. “First off, I’d like to know who killed Mumbles.”
“It was my father’s dog, Lucchesi. It had to be. Lucchesi didn’t know my father was helping the Allies. It’s still possible the boy was meant to die from the beginning. But it doesn’t matter and it’s all my fault.”
“I don’t know about that. Remember, your father called the Bureau of Investigation to verify the identity of the agent who approached him with the British. He didn’t exist. Your father might have thought he was in trouble running a rogue operation for the British.”
“I still think Lucchesi was acting alone, as much as I believe my father capable.”
How would Viviana know that? She only knew what her mother told her. And why was it her fault? He tried to prepare himself to be shocked. “Why your fault? And what plan?”
“That’s complicated, but I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t alert the cops.”
She was fumbling. Why? It didn’t matter whether her father ordered the hit or not. He thought briefly about telling her to stop. Did he really need to know more? Mumbles was dead and Ruffulo was involved up to his ears. Now Ruffulo was dead. Game over. But it wasn’t over, not for Conor and not for Mumbles. He had to know for sure, and he had to know everything. Did this woman know the whole story? If so, what is she? Who is she? “I have time. How do you know all this? Does that mean everything else you told me was a lie? Even the personal . . . things?”
“Of course not. I was as honest with you as I could be. It’s a long story.”
“I have time. I could even buy us a drink.”
About the Author
The author lives in the Chicago area.
Connect with Robert W. Smith
Buy Links
To Pledge Allegiance (Amazon paid link)
Also, by Robert W. Smith
A Long Way from Clare (Amazon - paid link)
FTC Disclaimer: Link to Amazon. I am an Amazon Associate. I will receive a small commission, at no cost to you, if you purchase a book through the link provided. Thanks!
Many thanks to Robert W. Smith for stopping by with an excerpt and to Janet @ More Agreeably Engaged for organizing this book tour.
So, friends, what did you think of the excerpt? I'd love to know your thoughts!
ReplyDeleteThanks for hosting Robert and To Pledge Allegiance, Candy. Thanks for the excerpt, Robert. It may be time for a reread for me. :)
My pleasure, Janet! 😃
DeleteThank you for gosting me, Candy
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome! It was my pleasure!
DeleteEngaging excerpt, Bob; thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteHello, Kelly! Thanks for stopping by!
Delete