Page 32 of By Any Means

“God, imagine writing for Pulitzer. No. Not for the rags, the Gazette, the government, or any societies of fourteen.” Chary demanded the truth, and so he’d get it. “I’m a down-and-outer. A muckraker. I write for the Appeal.”

“The appeal… The Rational Appeal?” Chary paused. “You’re a socialist?”

Fascinating. Folks usually said that word with varying degrees of doubt or contempt. Chary’s question had nothing like that, only curiosity.

“Yessir. One can’t very well be an anarchist, can they?”

Chary laughed. “No. Goodness. And I was lecturing you on union exclusionism.”

“I mean, socialists ain’t a perfect monolith. Plenty of racialists among the ranks. Particularly the cartoonists.” Also bastards.

“Hang on. The Appeal!”

Laurie smiled. If a man could say socialist so neutrally and also name the Appeal off the bat…

“Lawrence Tulley,” Chary said, and that was certainly not doubt or contempt in his voice, no, sir. It was pretty darn near awe. “You’re him?”

“Got ’er,” Laurie said, pleased. “Not the worst reporter in New York, I hope?”

“No. Your writing is quite—” Chary swayed where he sat and propped himself on a crutch of an arm. “You said… a hell of a story.” He gulped. “Your editor—Sam Sullivan would cry. You haven’t given it to him?”

“I haven’t. You think he’d wait on this?”

“No. Well.” Chary paused. “He doesn’t seem particularly patient.”

Laurie chuckled. “You do get to feeling like you know a man, reading his words.”

“I daresay. But it’s not a breaking-news sort of paper, is it? So you’ll make my life into a serial drama? Those murders included? Or August’s life—and his death? Oh. And in March…”

“Yes. You were interesting then, too.” According to Sam.

“But not interesting enough? You changed your mind about me?”

“I did. At the time.”

“I didn’t suit the criteria?”

Laurie held out his hands. “I don’t do hit pieces. Much less on queers.”

“What on earth would Sam Sullivan want with me? I swear I’m not going to union meetings. You have the wrong man.”

“That, I haven’t figured out yet. Doubt he knew about the blowers. You aren’t running a front op with the blueberry farm, are you?”

“A what?” Chary laughed. “A front operation? For what business? No. Well, not that I’m aware of. Unless you have more revelations for me.”

Laurie bit his lip. Chary didn’t seem to see it; he looked glazed and thoughtful.

“Lawrence Tulley. You said you were an itinerant worker. I suppose that was somewhat true, then.”

Laurie nodded.

“And I asked if you wanted to… Ooh. You get cozy. You would have gone with me then, in the barrens. If you hadn’t changed your mind midway.”

“Yeah.”

“You were convincing. I’d have given you everything you needed.”

“Sometimes, all it takes is a way in. A connection. Trust. A kind of faith.”