Hi, everyone!
Today I am sharing my Feature Post for EVTIA AND ME by Erika Rummel on this Virtual Author Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, an exclusive excerpt, an about the author section, the author’s social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!
***
Book Description
Evita Peron’s jewels are missing. Only three people know that they are in a vault in the Swiss Alps; Evita’s corrupt and brutal brother Juan, her bodyguard Pierre, and a teenaged girl Mona, her newest protegee. What happens if two of them team up?
Like Eva herself, Mona comes from a broken family and has to make her own way. Perhaps that’s why the two women feel close. Evita is at the pinnacle of success but already in the grip of a fatal illness. We see her life through the eyes of Mona and Pierre, two people she trusts — and who betray her in the end. Or can theft and murder be justified?
A story of love, adventure, and murder.
***
Excerpt
[Juancito, Evita’s thuggish brother, shows Mona the underbelly of Buenos Aires.]
We were passing through the narrow streets of the Boca. Juancito slowed down and stopped at the back of a two-story house painted mustard yellow. The lower part of the wall was solid like a bunker. The second floor had a row of tall windows. Two of them had balconies with old-fashioned ornamental railings, the one in the middle was a Juliet balcony. The house had a look of decay and abandonment about it. The iron railings were rusty, and the wooden shutters on some of the windows had come off and were stacked against the balcony railings. We walked around to the front of the building. The entrance was lit up by a garish sign with a palm tree and a hula dancer and the word “Bar” flicking on and off. Inside, the place was dimly lit and quiet. It smelled of old carpet. A band was playing Latino music and a small dance floor, but no one was dancing. The little tables surrounding the empty oval were occupied by single girls or girls in pairs sipping drinks and playing cards, waiting – for customers, I assume…
[Mona is right. It’s a brothel, and Juanito takes her and one of the “girls” upstairs. They don’t get far.]
We heard a truck pulling into the yard. Doors slammed, a rough voice barked a command.
“A police raid!” the girl said.
“Get her out,” Juancito said pointing to me. “I’ll talk to them.”
The whore took me by the hand like a little girl, leading me down the hallway. There was a window at the end of it, overlooking the parking lot. It was the window with the Juliet balcony I’d seen earlier. Juancito’s car was below. The girl pushed up the sash of the window, wangled a leg over the sill, and dropped down to the ledge outside. She did it so smoothly that I suspected it was a practiced routine.
“Come on,” she said in a hard, impatient voice, and I climbed up and let myself down on the other side, standing next to her. She took stock of the situation. We were only a little distance from the nearest window, which had a regular, wide balcony. She climbed up on the railing, steadied herself against the wall, and jumped across to the larger balcony with the agility of a trapeze artist. She stood still for a moment, then took one of the shutters that had come off the French doors and were leaning against the wall. She shoved it across to the Juliette balcony where I was standing, making a narrow bridge between the railings.
She whispered another “Come on”, and I tried not to think, not to be afraid of falling, as I climbed up on the plank spanning the two balconies. I didn’t look down, I shimmied across on my hands and knees. I could feel my nylons snagging on the slats and ripping. The girl reached for me and pulled, making me land hard on the other side and scraping my knee. We could hear another commando shout and the voices of people coming out of the bar, but we couldn’t see anything. It was all happening around the corner, on the front side of the building.
The whore forced open the balcony door. We passed through a shadowy room, stepped into the corridor, and sneaked down the stairs to a backdoor opening up into an alley. I breathed relief until I saw that the alley dead-ended on one side, barred by a chain-link fence. We could have climbed it, but it was lit up by a streetlight. Too risky, the whore said. They’ll spot us. We couldn’t sneak out on the side that wasn’t gated because that’s where the cops were. We’d run directly into their arms. So we sat on the ground with our backs pressed against the wall, knees drawn up tight to stay in the shadow of the eaves as much as possible. The alley was strewn with broken crates, rags, bottles, and the rotting remains of food. Directly under the streetlamp, in the cone of light on the ground was a seething mass of flying and crawling insects, the largest beetles I had ever seen. We heard more shouting and commotion around the corner. A cop appeared at the mouth of the alley and shone a flashlight our way. The jig was up. He pointed his gun at us.
“What have we got here?” he said, closing in and looming over us.
After that, everything happened too fast for my understanding. I saw the flash of a knife, I heard him scream. A slit opened up along his thigh. He staggered back and dropped to his knees, cursing, as we scrambled up, ran to the other end of the alley and clambered over the fence. We dropped down on the other side and ran out to the parking lot. Juancito’s car was close by.
“Get down,” the girl said, and we slid under the car on our bellies and stayed there, lying very still.
The guy she slashed had probably gone for reinforcement. We heard the cops coming out of the bar, rough voices, boots hitting the pavement. From our vantage point we couldn’t see the men. Someone approached the car. He stopped right beside it, and I recognized Juancito’s polished shoes.
A few moments later, a pair of scuffed boots appeared beside Juancito’s shoes.
“I don’t carry much cash,” Juancito said to the man in boots. “I’ll get something to you tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t take bribes,” the man said.
“Of course you don’t take bribes, che, I know that,” Juanito said pleasantly. I didn’t know he could sound that way, as if he was really nice and considerate. “But one of your men has been stabbed. He deserves compensation. I’ll get the money to you.”
A charged silence hung in the air. Nothing further was said, but there was no need for words. They understood each other.
The heels of Solara’s boots clicked together in a salute.
***
About Erika Rummel
Award winning author, Erika Rummel is the author of more than a dozen non-fiction books and seven novels. Her seventh novel, ‘Evita and Me’ is being published on May 24, 2022.
She won the Random House Creative Writing Award (2011) for a chapter from ‘The Effects of Isolation on the Brain’ and The Colorado Independent Publishers’ Association’ Award for Best Historical Novel, in 2018. She is the recipient of a Getty Fellowship and the Killam Award.
Erika grew up in Vienna, emigrated to Canada and obtained a PhD from the University of Toronto. She taught at Wilfrid Laurier and U of Toronto. She divides her time between Toronto and Los Angeles and has lived in Argentina, Romania, and Bulgaria.
Social Media Links
Erika’s Website: http://www.erikarummel.com/
Erika’s Blog: http://rummelsincrediblestories.blogspot.ca/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/historycracks
Purchase Links
***
RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY
This giveaway is for 2 print copies and is open to Canada and the U.S. only. This giveaway ends on July 23, 2022 midnight, pacific time. Entries accepted via Rafflecopter only.
https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/classic/19dbbbb/main.html
Thanks so much for hosting!
You are welcome, Teddy.