A Light For My Love Read Free Page B

behind him and next to him.
He listened, too, to bits of conversation going on around him. It
was a habit he’d acquired over the years—never letting down his
guard, especially while he was in a waterfront saloon.
    After a few moments he became aware of two
men to his right. Something about them seemed off kilter. They wore
expensive suits. That alone caught his attention. A dive like the
Blue Mermaid didn’t attract the upper crust, but that description
didn’t fit these two, either. They were a little too rough.
    “Well, I’d feel better if Williams was out of
the picture. He’s getting to be a goddamned pain in the ass,” the
younger of the pair complained. “Every time I turn around, there he
is, stirring up a ruckus. Last week he stood outside Maggie Riley’s
saloon, handing out leaflets and ranting like a preacher at a
revival meeting. He went on and on about the ‘poor sailor’ being a
victim of ‘the new slavery.’ He’s like John Brown back from the
grave. The Astorian even ran an item about it.”
    The other man nodded, holding a match to his
cigar. The of the Havana glowed like hot coal. “I didn’t pay him
much mind when he started this a couple of years ago. But he’s a
persuasive firebrand, and people are beginning to listen to him.”
He let out a huff of laughter and a cloud of smoke. “It’s a good
thing city hall doesn’t.”
    The first man went on. “But up till now he’s
always worked alone. Lately I’ve heard a rumor that he has a
partner helping him, maybe financing him. We don’t need that.”
    “Larry, you worry like an old lady. I’ve
heard that rumor too. But at fifty or sixty dollars a head, there
are too many people making too much money for that Williams
character to be real trouble for business.” The man shrugged.
“Anyway, maybe we can find out who his partner is. Who knows—with a
couple of double eagles in the right hands, we could teach them
both a lesson.”
    Jake continued to sip his whiskey, elbows on
the bar and shoulders hunched, giving no appearance of
eavesdropping. He knew the “business” of these two businessmen.
They were crimps, shanghaiers. They took blood money from captains,
the fifty or sixty dollars mentioned, to find crewmen for outbound
deep-sea vessels. That usually involved getting a man drunk,
drugging him, or somehow tricking him aboard a ship. Most captains
got their money back by deducting it from the sailor’s pay. Jake
saw it as a regrettable but necessary part of sea trade. He knew it
was also very profitable for men like those next to him, as well as
bartenders, boardinghouse landlords, and brothel owners. Captains
who resisted working with the crimps could get the holy hell beaten
out of them or find their vessels damaged. The crimps sure wouldn’t
let some crusader—or his sidekick—get in their way. It wouldn’t
matter how zealous this Williams was. To these people, he was only
a fly speck.
    Just then he saw Pug coming toward him, a big
platter in his hands. Jake’s last thought about Williams was that
he’d probably get his name in the newspaper one more time, when the
police fished his gray, water-bloated corpse out of the river.
    *~*~*
    Please be careful with that," China Sullivan
appealed. “It—it’s been in my family for a long time.” With no
little trepidation, she watched as the two sturdy Jesperson
brothers maneuvered her mother's elegant sideboard down the hall
toward the front door. She knew that the draymen were more
accustomed to loading barrels of flour and lard for Landers Bakery
than moving fine furniture. As they passed her, red-faced and
sweating from their efforts, she stretched out a light hand to
touch the beeswaxed cherry wood one last time.
    She followed them as far as the porch,
watching anxiously as they ferried the heavy piece down the steps.
When it listed sharply to the left, China's breath caught on the
lump in her throat.
    A muffled but audible curse rose from the
general vicinity of the