About
the Book
Title:
Counterfeit Conspiracies
Author:
Ritter Ames
Genre:
Mystery / Suspense
Laurel
Beacham may have been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but she
has long since lost it digging herself out of trouble. Her father
gambled and womanized his way through the family fortune before
skiing off an Alp, leaving her with more tarnish than trust fund.
Quick wits and connections have gained her a reputation as one of the
world’s premier art recovery experts. The police may catch the
thief, but she reclaims the missing masterpieces.
The
latest assignment, however, may be her undoing. Using every ounce of
luck and larceny she possesses, Laurel must locate a priceless art
icon and rescue a co-worker (and ex-lover) from a master criminal,
all the while matching wits with a charming new nemesis.
Unfortunately, he seems to know where the bodies are buried—and she
prefers hers isn’t next.
Author
Bio
Ritter Ames is
the USA Today Bestselling author of the Organized Mysteries series
and the Bodies of Art Mysteries series. When she's not writing or
brainstorming new mysteries Ritter is usually trying to get her
favorite yellow lab to stay out of the pond, or keep her grouchy
black cat from trying to give the dog away on Freecycle. Ritter would
love to live on a boat and write from far flung locations around the
globe, but the dog would constantly have to be fished from the water,
and her husband and cat would just complain endlessly about the dog's
smell, so staying on land seems to be the only good option to keep
her sanity and not get sidetracked from writing.
Ritter tries to
blog regularly at http://ritterames.com/ and subscribe there to get
the latest news about upcoming releases, and inside scoops on her
characters and series. She uses her Pinterest boards at
http://www.pinterest.com/ritterames/ to capture great places and
ideas she wants to use in both series. Follow her blog and boards to
learn more about Ritter and her upcoming books. You can find her
Facebook author page at https://www.facebook.com/RitterAmesBooks and
Follow her on Twitter @RitterAmes.
Links
Amazon URL:
Barnes & Noble
URL:
Kobo URL:
Apple iBooks/iTunes
URL:
Contact Links:
Website & blog:
www.ritterames.com
Facebook Author
Page: www.facebook.com/RitterAmesBooks
Amazon Author Page:
http://www.amazon.com/Ritter-Ames/e/B00I78AQEW/
Twitter handle: @RitterAmes
Book Excerpts
Excerpt
#2
On
this return visit—my acquisition finale—I slid into the darkened
gallery. The circular space, lit only by the minimal luminosity
filtering through a half-dozen narrow arched windows, allowed my
shadow to mix with those already in residence. Night vision goggles
allowed the glorious set of Rembrandts and French Impressionists to
glow alongside the beauty I came to liberate.
It
was a vibrant seascape, circa 1821, and a breathtaking scene of
energy and clear passion. A little known work by a well-respected
artist, which had been cherished by the family of its previous owner
before eventually falling into the hands of the billionaire’s
father. Gazing upon the work, I could almost hear the buoy bell
ringing in the distance, but the room’s current illumination left
the scene too dark to see beyond the receding foamy water. I shivered
as if the wind picked up; the
painting was that
powerful.
I
heard a noise. A human-moving noise.
I
had to hurry. I slipped a blade from my belt and ran it along the
frame’s edge.
The
moment the canvas
was free, I heard the master of the house bark, “What are you
doing?”
I
spun to find him standing behind me. Holding his gaze, I sheathed my
knife and dug into another pouch, then threw a capped vial into the
darkness between myself and potential capture. The glass broke, and
when the chemicals inside hit the air, a dense smoke obscured all
vision. But I had already calculated the distance to the nearest
window, moved to it, and affixed a suction cup with a braided nylon
line to the wall. The painting protected in one hand, my remaining
gloved fist, now fitted with brass knuckles, shattered the narrow
pane. I slid through the turret’s slit window, taking a few shards
of glass along for the ride. Then I rappelled down the rough stone
wall to the manicured lawn.
“Zeus!
Apollo! Robbery! Attack!” my impotent enemy screamed.
*
* *
Next
morning, the painting and I slipped into the back of Greg’s shop
for the new frame constructed per my specifications. A close
facsimile to photos, and infinitely better than the garish gold
number that restrained the seascape during its turret imprisonment,
the burnished brass frame even evoked a nautical theme that conjured
the look of a spyglass.
I
changed into blue coveralls and left his shop with the newly framed
painting wrapped in brown paper. Magnetic signs attached to my van
implied a courier service, as did the faked breast pocket insignia on
my uniform. The drive to Mrs. Lebowitz’s tiny home was quick.
“Yes?”
she said, answering the door. A Holocaust survivor, the only one in
her family to make it out of Europe alive, she was a child when the
Allies freed her from Auschwitz.
My
brown-wrapped package once graced her grandmother’s dining room.
Before it was stolen by Nazis and purchased with fictionalized
provenance by my adversary’s father. One of my pro bono projects to
not only return the art to its true owner, but to insure masterpieces
such as this one did not get locked away from public sight.
“Mrs. Lebowitz, I
have a very special delivery.”
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