Search for Stolen Tolita Gold Statue

By Shirley J. Miller

Maxine Hart is a writer of mystery novels. Her latest novel is about the Drug Trafficking market. The more research she does, the more she realizes the bulk of the drugs coming into the United States is coming from Mexico and Colombia. She had already started writing, but as she often did, she got stuck when it came to giving her story a real feeling within the story line, its people and their backgrounds. So, she convinced her publisher to let her travel to Cartagena, Colombia to get a better feel for what her characters were experiencing. Knowing Colombia is not at all a safe place to travel, her publisher insists on sending his CIA friend, Riley Perkins, to look after her.

In the meantime, two undercover detectives (Rick and Harry) are accidently dropped on her front steps – one of them wounded - as they try to escape the drug dealers who suspected them of being a leak to their cause after one of the Colombian Cartels is raided. The two detectives had a lead on the Cali Cartel in Colombia. When one of them is exposed as a snitch, their Police Captain takes them off the case, putting on two new detectives to take over the assignment.

Put on temporary leave, Rick and Harry go out to dinner to complain about their predicament and a perceived lack of backing from their Chief. They overhear a conversation about the search for a stolen Colombian artifact and the need to find help to search for it. Two drinks in and angry at being put on probation, they approach the men at the next table and volunteer themselves as out-of-work private detectives. For a handsome reward, they volunteer their services to go to Colombia and search for the missing artifact. Their search for the artifact overlaps with the Cartel research being done by Max and Riley. As a team, they accomplish both sets of goals.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shirley J. Miller
• Release date: Jul 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463789094

Shirley J. Miller

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~About Shirley J MillerAs a child, aptitude tests always suggested that Shirley Miller should go into writing. In actuality, she spent her career years in advertising and marketing for Fortune 500 companies, where most of her writing revolved around describing product attributes and persuading sales.She always dreamed of writing fiction books but never had the time. Upon early retirement, she decided to follow her dreams. You will love her simple and direct style while maintaining the mystique and action among characters from start to finish.Her work is mostly fiction, so be sure you check out The Chicago Series and the Maxine Hart Series. Ring of Deception is a book Shirley and her sister Betty dreamed up - while hiking, no less - follow-ups being considered.Shirley has also written how-to books on some of her favorite hobbies. Be sure to check out Beginning Golf for Ladies, Golf Tips Up & Over - For Intermediate Players, Freelance Writing, Owning a Silky Terrier which resulted from her love for the breed. Having owned eight Silky Terriers over her lifetime, she even hired a special dog trainer to come to her home twice a week to teach her how to train the dogs.Though she never wrote about it, she wants to Thank You for reading her books and following her writing adventures. Without you, none of this would be possible, So Thank You very much. And keep on reading. Find some of her other books on Amazon or Smashwords by checking the links below.Any reviews will certainly be appreciated. It always helps to understand more of what readers want to see, so she can speak more directly to you. To follow Shirley Miller, and be the first to learn of new releases, please check the ‘Follow Me’ Button on Amazon. For a full list of all her current works, check out these links:https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/LastFlightOut1

Book preview

Chapter 1

Maxine Hart – or Max as her friends called her – was staring at a blank computer screen. Her editor had asked for some changes in her last manuscript, but for the life of her, the words would not come. Then she heard it. The loud screeching of tires and sirens blasting away. Just another typical Chicago police chase, she thought. Nevertheless, the book could wait. Her curiosity could not.

She ran to the window just in time to see the black Cadillac convertible speed by as a body was thrown from the car. There at the foot of her front steps lay a large black man. Blood poured from his shoulder as well as from his head that had landed with a thud on the cement sidewalk below. Instinctively, she rushed out her front door and down the brownstone steps toward the injured man. Quickly she pressed the blue cashmere scarf she wore around her neck into his shoulder wound to stop the blood flow. It appeared that the police had not seen the body dumped as they continued to race by in pursuit of the fugitive’s black Cadillac convertible.

From behind, an arm wrapped around her and covered her scream as she was pulled back into the shadows. Quiet. I won’t hurt you, the stranger gasped obviously out of breath. Where had he come from? She hadn’t noticed anyone on the street when she approached the victim.

Max wrenched herself free knocking the man in the head with her elbow as she looked furiously into his eyes. Her sudden resistance caught him off guard and he fell flat on his butt. They stared at each other awkwardly for just a few seconds and then the man laughed as he looked up to her from his flattened position – a big bruise already forming on his head where she had struck him.

Max looked menacingly at him – and then at the body at the foot of the stairs. You think this is funny? she yelled at him. Just who the hell are you? And who is that? she said pointing at the body.

But as she turned, she was shocked to see the wounded man move. The black man slowly pulled himself up and shook the dirt from his silly Hawaiian shirt. Blood streamed from his left shoulder. But curiously enough, he, too, had burst into laughter. As a matter of fact, both men seemed to be having the time of their lives! Max was not amused. Someone better tell me what the hell is going on, she demanded as she looked at both men with daggers in her eyes.

That would be me, I guess, the black man offered. I’m Harry Black and I’m an undercover cop. I’ve been working to penetrate a major drug Cartel. My cover was blown so with all the shooting going on, I decided I should play dead before they finished the job. I threw myself out of the car and I’m hoping they think I’m a goner. God I almost feel like it.

And I’m his partner, the other man jumped in. I was dropped off by that police car just before it sped by your door. My name is Jack Turner and I am his inside contact.

Jack was a complete opposite of Harry Black. Jack was about six feet tall with the chiseled body of a gymnast. He long blond hair, striking blue eyes, and daring good looks gave him the stature of a California surfer rather than one of Chicago’s famous peace officers. Sweat seemed to pour from his skin and hair after what must have been a quick chase to save his partner.

Harry was muscular with chiseled features and striking charcoal colored eyes that seemed almost hypnotic when you looked into them. His light chocolate skin was smooth, giving his face an Esquire model look.

After verifying Turner’s identity by examining his badge, Maxine calmed down. Harry was still bleeding profusely from his left shoulder as he struggled to get on his feet. Well you better come in until we can stop that bleeding. I’ll call an ambulance. Max volunteered.

No. No doctors. They’ll take care of it at the station. I don’t want that gang to track me down and they will if I show up at a hospital. Just bandage me up and we’ll be out of your hair. Harry was beginning to feel the pain penetrating now that the excitement had died down and he was anxious to get back to the station. Jack, Harry continued, why don’t you call this in, and we’ll be on our way.

Don’t be silly, Max insisted. At least come in long enough for me to wrap that wound. You can call the station from here. Maxine was in her early 30’s with long blond hair. She wore a long maxi dress, but that didn’t hide her shapely body which must have been all of 110 lbs.

Max led them into the hall and past the fireplace that burned in the dimly lit living room area. She directed them to the kitchen while she looked for some bandages for Harry’s shoulder. Then she proceeded to make them coffee as they called the station and waited for their ride.

I’m sorry, Max continued as she poured them coffee. I never introduced myself. I’m Maxine Hart.

Jack expressed their appreciation. Thanks for your help, Maxine. If you ever need anything, please do give us a call. In the back of his mind, he knew he’d be calling on her. Too pretty to let this one get away.

You’re more than welcome, Max responded. Always happy to help Chicago’s Best. Maybe you’ll pay me back one day when I’m researching a murder scene or something. I’m a criminal novelist, you see, and I often get stuck on some of the many details involved in your work, she smiled. I’ve often had to call on your department for help with some of my crime scenes. She too had been captivated by Jack and if he didn’t call her – she had every intention of calling him.

Her doorbell rang, just as the officers’ ride pulled up to the curb. Oh, I almost forgot. I have dinner plans with my publisher. Opening the door, Maxine introduced Bob Olson to her surprised guests. They all laughed and talked about their precarious situation as they headed toward their waiting transportation - an ominous looking unmarked black SUV.

That’s what I’d call an undercover car, Maxine smiled.

Thanks again, Maxine. The blond officer looked directly into her bright blue eyes.

It’s just Max to my friends, she replied. Can I assume my saving your ass makes us friends?

Both officers laughed and then took their leave. Hope to be seeing you around, Max, they said as they left the scene.

After the officers left, Bob and Max talked briefly about the excitement she had just witnessed. Then they headed out for dinner, so they could discuss the novel they were working on. As her publisher and biggest fan, Bob always had some good ideas.

Outside, they hailed a cab and made their way to Spiaggia’s Italian restaurant located on North Michigan Avenue. It was a Monday evening and only a limited number of people were there. Any other night, the place would be swarming with loud and hungry diners. All the better to hear each other talk and exchange ideas. The food here was always delicious and the atmosphere seemed perfect for writing – especially on Mondays.

As they walked in, they were greeted by Carlos, their favorite waiter, who led them to a quiet corner booth. Carlos brought two glasses of water. Good evening, my friends, Carlos smiled. Let’s see – for you Max the crab ravioli – and Bob you probably are craving our delicious manicotti. Did I get that right?

Max laughed as she responded. You know us too well, Carlos. Guess we’re not too creative when it comes to food. Hope my new book holds more mystery than our favorite dishes.

I’m sure it will, Miss Hart, Carlos smiled as he turned and headed to the kitchen. Not long afterwards, a bottle of red wine was delivered to the table. As they sipped wine and waited for their order, they began to theorize the book.

Max began with her latest update. "Bob, I’ve got our hero, Mark Singer, landing at Bogota in Colombia. From there he goes via bus to Cali, one of the worst Colombian cities for drugs. Something, I don’t know what yet, will happen on that bus ride. Unbeknownst to Mark, he was followed by Saxton (I haven’t flushed his character out yet) who’s also investigating the Colombia drug cartel. He doesn’t know how much Mark knows, but whatever it is, it’s more than he’s got so he’s hanging on to Mark’s coat tails. But what they both don’t realize is that the Cartel is on to them and has people waiting at the airport to intervene.

Bob was paying close attention. Well it sounds like it’s coming together. What’s the problem? I can see you’re holding something back.

Well, Max continued, I really feel I need hands-on research to get the geography – the history if you will – more exact for my story. I want to go there to get a better feel for the location.

Are you nuts? Bob jumped in. That’s one of the most dangerous cities in the world. You can’t go there – not alone anyway. And I’ll be damned if I’m going this time. Not after what you put me through in Africa!

It’s not a request, Bob. I’ve already decided. I’m going – and I’m planning it for next week.

Bob could not believe what he was hearing. Damn you are stubborn. But I’m not letting you go alone. I have a CIA friend who is currently between assignments. I’m going to pay him to go with you. He’ll watch your back and keep you out of trouble. He’s an ex-navy seal with several years’ experience in South America. He can be of real help to you.

Bob, I don’t need help. I’ll be just fine. I travel on my own all the time. Max was adamant in her response.

I don’t care how well traveled you are, Bob intervened. You are not going to that country alone, and if I have to threaten you as your publisher I will. I won’t sponsor the book unless you take my friend. His name is Riley Perkins. He’ll make sure you don’t run into trouble. And I know how good you are at finding it! Riley goes – or no book.

Now who’s being stubborn? Max demanded. Okay. You win. I hate to admit it, but you’re probably right about the danger and I do have a way of falling into awkward situations. Tell Riley to call me and I’ll make the travel arrangements.

They finished dinner and moved on to more general topics. They’d decided to walk back to the brownstone as the evening was pleasant and they both felt they needed the exercise after such an enjoyable and hearty Italian meal. Walking Maxine to her front door, Bob said his goodbyes ordering her to call him the minute she’d made