“To Pledge Allegiance” by Robert W. Smith, excerpt + giveaway

Hello there!

I am glad to welcome Robert W. Smith again. He is bringing us his latest novel and I hope that you enjoy getting to know about it. I have read A Long Way from Clare and enjoyed it very much. We are not talking about a JAFF novel as we mostly do, but it does not make To Pledge Allegiance any different, because what it is key here is to read!!!

Let me share the blurb with you and see what you think.

Assassination, espionage, war, and vigilante violence.

Welcome to Chicago in 1917.

Within this cauldron of intrigue and deceit, live nearly half a million Irish and German American immigrants, among them Irish-born lawyer Conor Dolan and his wife Maureen. The Dolans are among thousands of immigrants marked as “hyphenated Americans,” their reluctance to support the war cry branding them “enemy aliens.”

When one of the legendary Chicago Newsboys takes a lethal bullet from a German Luger during a warehouse break-in, his mysterious companion escapes, and Conor is determined to find the killer. He discovers instead a link between the burglary and the murder of a prominent Chicago arms broker with ties to the Allied powers and possibly the mob. Despite warnings from a powerful group of government-backed vigilantes and a suspicious lack of cooperation from the police, Conor presses on at his own peril to root out the boy’s killer.

Was it a German agent? An Allied agent? The mob? Or maybe even the police themselves by some deceitful plan? The closer he gets to the answer, the greater the danger to those he loves.

Conor has a lot to discover and it may not be easy. He want the truth but it may be quite challenging to get it.

Let me (re)introduce you to the author of this crime, mystery and historical novel 🙂

Bob was raised in Chicago, enlisting in the Air Force in 1968. Following four years of service as a Russian Linguist in the Security Service Command, a branch of the NSA, Bob attended DePaul University and The John Marshall Law School. With over thirty years of experience as a criminal defense lawyer in Chicago, Bob brings a lifetime of understanding and experience to his novels. His Running with Cannibals is the Grand Prize winner of the CIBA 2022 Hemingway Award for best 20th-century wartime fiction.

The author lives in the Chicago area.

http://www.robertsmithbooks.com

After reading his bio, you may understand why his books can be so good, he writes very well and his background is exceptional for this genre.

You could buy the book here:

Amazon US – Amazon UK – Amazon ES – Amazon CA – Amazon DE

I hope you like the excerpt he is sharing with us because it shows a bit about the victim and how life was too.

After dinner, Conor headed for Newsboy Alley to deliver the word to Lefty before he heard through the grapevine. He found the cop there three hours after his shift ended, as expected, but the news had preceded Conor. Nothing happened in this city outside the earshot or view of the newsboys. Lefty was expecting him and had gathered a box of Mumbles’s belongings. A toothbrush, a small mirror, a deck of cards, but not a single memory of his mother or family. At the bottom of the small box, he found a stack of postcards, all from Bell addressed “care of Newsboy Alley” and all greetings to Mumbles in celebration of Christmas or Easter and particularly his birthday.

Due to the lateness of the hour, he grabbed a cab for the trip down to Pullman, an entire community built for and by The Pullman Company as envisioned by its deceased owner, George Pullman, until a series of strikes and economic conditions reduced demand for the iconic Pullman rail cars. In recent years the Pullman houses had been sold off by the city and now comprised a distinct middle-class neighborhood on the South Side. Bell’s Saloon was prominently located in the heart of the residential neighborhood on 105^th Street.

The saloon was a tiny place on the corner but packed solid with local patrons when Conor arrived at around eight o’clock, asking the driver to wait. He found the proprietor behind the bar, eased himself into a spot and placed the box on the polished hardwood surface. The woman was at least in her sixties, strong and heavyset with constantly searching dark eyes. Nothing would happen in the place that escaped her notice. “You bring me a present, Mister?” She asked in an unmistakable Chicago accent, as dimples formed magically below rounded, red cheeks. Conor decided he liked her. “What’ll you have?”

“Schlitz, please. Actually, I came to give you this. It’s from a kid you knew. Seems he considered you next of kin.”

“Knew?” she asked matter-of-factly, almost like she’d been expecting it. “Jan, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Something involving violence, most likely.”

“Yes, Ma’am. It was.”

“Don’t tell me the details. I don’t want to know.” Her lack of emotion was more telling than a bucket full of tears. This woman had lived a hard life, likely a life peppered with pain, loss and deprivation. Who could tell what else?

She took the box and stowed it carefully under the bar. Conor said, “I should tell you I went through it. Not much there. It’s—”

“I’ll go through it later.” She drew a beer and poured a generous shot of whiskey. “The drinks are on me, Mister.”

“Dolan, Ma’am. I was his . . . friend.” The woman expressed no interest in the details.

Bell leaned forward, head down with her palms on the bar, like she was gathering thoughts or deciding whether to speak. Then she looked at Conor and said quietly, “Jan didn’t know his own birthday. I couldn’t believe that, Mister Dolan, even here in Chicago. I gave him a birthday and we celebrated it every year.”

“I know, Ma’am. The cards are in the box.”

“Thank you for that, Mister Dolan. Jan didn’t know he was going to inherit this business, the building, everything. Only thing I asked in my will is that he keep my no-account son employed and fed. He’d have done it too. There’s a good side to abject poverty, loneliness, and rejection, Mister Dolan. Sometimes it filters out the pettiness, idle temptations, and vices, if you will, of men who have too much and give too little. This can be a mean city. I won’t forget Jan, ever.”

On the ride back to Bridgeport, Conor wished he’d gotten to know Mumbles better. It had been an eventful Tuesday. Jan’s burglary case was closed but there might be a murderer out there thinking he got away scot-free. The truth might have died with Jan Kazmirski. Time would tell, but Conor Dolan was a long way from admitting it to himself—or to Jan’s memory.

What do you think? It is quite sad her reaction, it shows how life was really tough.

As I mentioned, Conor has a lot to do now. Good luck to him!

Meryton Press is giving away one ebook copy to one reader who post here telling us what you think about this excerpt and/or if you enjoy crimes and historical novels.

The giveaway is international and it is open until the 26th of June 2024 at 23:59 CET. Good luck!