Shooting For Justice, G. Tilman [best historical fiction books of all time .txt] 📗

found Sarah bathing and noticed a new ball gown in deep royal blue hanging on the door of the wardrobe. He quickly disrobed and got into the tub with her. Gallons of water sloshed on the floor, but they mopped it up with towels afterwards.

“Nothing on the President’s House invitation mentioned food beyond hors d’oeuvres,” Sarah observed, “so I hope they are really good and really filling.”

“Me, too. I skipped lunch. Probably a mistake,” Pope said.

They dressed. Sarah got Pope to turn and could not see his .44 print under his tuxedo jacket. She did not have to do the same. Her smaller gun, a .38, fit nicely in her purse.

At seven o’clock, they left the Willard for the short walk to the President’s House, invitations in hand and fashionably late.

The president and his sister were announced fifteen minutes later. Sarah walked around with a glass of red wine. Pope carried and sipped a glass of water with a lime squeezed and dropped in it. Crowds were good for assassinations and he wanted his reflexes to be at their best.

Around eight, Lincoln caught Pope’s eye and motioned both over to where he was speaking with Chester A. Arthur, the twenty-first President of the United States.

“Mr. President, allow me to introduce the Popes. John is the new provost marshal for my office. He’s the one I was telling you about heading up strengthening security at the President’s House.”

Pope shook hands and was glad to feel a firm, confident grasp. Sarah extended her hand and the president kissed it. He was clearly taken with her.

Most people she was not shooting were taken with her beauty and smile, Pope thought to himself. She was exceptionally beautiful tonight. The dress, raven hair and the perfect curves all showed her at her best.

“You are young to be a provost marshal, Pope. What did you do before this? Army officer?”

“No, Mr. President. I was a major case detective for Wells Fargo.”

The president’s eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly.

“Are you the fellow I have read brings ’em in dead or alive, but always gets his man?”

“Oh, I doubt anything much has been written about me, sir.”

“My husband is too modest, Mr. President. I suspect it is exactly him you have read about,” Sarah said.

“I believe he was alleged to have a beautiful female detective partner.”

“He certainly had a partner at Wells Fargo. The beautiful part was probably a misprint,” she said.

“Mrs. Pope was also a detective with the Pinkerton’s, sir,” Lincoln added.

“So, I see the journalist did not overstate his point. Well, welcome to the People’s little house. I appreciate you making it, and me, safer.”

Several senators walked up, and Lincoln ushered the two detectives off.

“As you can tell, the sales job about increased security went well. He even admitted he lamented there was no agency or person responsible for it. He was playing you both. He knew exactly who you are and some of your more notable accomplishments. I am not sure what his game is, so watch him. I believe in what he is doing, but I suspect you have figured out, I am not a great personal friend. He can be a pompous ass, funny sideburns and all,” Lincoln said in a place and voice where it was impossible for anyone else to hear him.

“I almost hit him up for an interview, but felt a bit uneasy,” Sarah said.

“Yes, it’s not like you can knee him in the groin if he got too forward,” Pope said.

“You think his title would deter me a whit? Think again, cowboy!” she responded with vehemence.

Lincoln smiled. He liked these two and felt comfortable with them. His father would have too. Abe had more enemies in his cabinet than Chester A. Arthur did. However, he put his trust in Pinkerton instead of more properly placing it with his friend and self-appointed bodyguard US Marshal Ward Lamon and General Lafayette Baker. If he had had these two teamed with Lamon and Baker, he might be alive even today, his son thought. Brewster found them in the crowd and introduced Frederick Frelinghuysen, the secretary of state and his wife, Matilda.

During the several hours, the attorney general and the secretary of war introduced them to the full cabinet and many senators and congressmen. Pope was not sure what to expect with the leadership of the country. He kept his thoughts to himself until he and Sarah were alone in their room at the Willard.

“What did you think?” she asked.

“I had figured these would be real impressive powerful people. I came away thinking they were just regular people, some with money, some without. They all put their pants on one leg at a time.”

“How about the president?” she asked.

“I did not care for him. Lincoln as much as told us he was a good, honest president. But a man who was neither warm or likeable. His smile is put-on. I thought the only genuine thing he said was about liking us making it safer. The reason was because it made him safer, not the institution.”

“As I admitted to Lincoln, I did not feel comfortable around him. Realistically, you are right. If he got out of line, I probably would hesitate to squash his huevos.”

Pope grinned. “You are picking up some Spanish, I see.”

“From hanging around you, my darling unofficial husband.”

“Perhaps we should not mention your book or article, whichever cover story you use. Interviewing him can go in the case’s rubbish can.”

2

The next day, Pope went back to the President’s House and continued to write procedural orders for the security staff. He finished midday, spoke with the Saturday guard from the Washington Police and the three Washington Arsenal soldiers who reported for the first duty rotation. Sgt. Wilders came by at one o’clock and checked on his men. Each had properly signed out a revolver, whistle and pair of handcuffs.

Pope and Wilders went to the police department and met with the duty sergeant to explain changes in security at the President’s House and how