BOOKS

Book TWO of a proposed Trilogy

Cover design: R. Boss, Cincinnati ,OH

A forty-year odyssey—a trek, a pilgrimage, a crusade—one man’s three lifetimes: from a twenty-something blue collar/junior executive to an excitement-driven law enforcement officer to the mature fiftyish private investigator involved in a world-changing ordeal. Though many of these events, chronicles and characters are based on personal experiences, it is nonetheless a work of fiction. The story follows Paul Auer, the protagonist in Circa 1957, picking up and following his life from shortly after high school until....

          

Pre-Publication Reviews:

Chuck Klein knows cops and cars, and that experience shines like a new badge in his latest book, CIRCA 1967. The story is about a private investigator and former cop—like Klein. And like his previous books, it includes lots of high-octane action on racetracks and off the tracks, where lawbreakers crash through the guardrails. – Peter Bronson, former Cincinnati Enquirer newsman and author of several books about Cincinnati and Ohio history.

With a soaring pace and teasing plot twists, Klein’s follow-up to Circa 1957 is like a cool drink of water on a hot summer day. Plenty of attention to detail, terrific story line and an all-round great action-packed read. - Randy Stertmeyer, author: “Billy Boyd - Bonus Baby”

It is often said that the truth is often stranger than fiction. As he meanders down that particular path, Chuck Klein uses his 40 years of experience as a street level police officer and later, private investigator, to create this work of fiction. He’s changed most of the names, dates and usual suspects encountered during his multiple careers. Those of us who have done time “on the job,” will enjoy this book, and will often remark to themselves, “I know that guy,” or “That happened to me,” as Klein narrates various encounters with both good guys and bad. Solid read for those who’ve walked the beat, and those who haven’t.  - Mike Ford, Former Deputy Sheriff and retired Army Colonel with experience running both civilian and military investigations. 

The story lines might be offensive to some
due to racial and religious themes.
In contrast to its prequel, Circa 1957,
the book is void of graphic sex and
(save for a few words) explicit language.

 Excerpts:

CHAPTER 1 1960s

One hundred seventy, 160, 150—still with only sporadic jabs at the brakes to keep them from fading—George Baker changed down into fourth, bouncing the tach over eight thousand. With Hawthorn's Ferrari looming huge in his mirror and teammate Juan Manual Fangio's Maserati just coming into view, these leaders all neared the end of the home straight, the miles long Raggamili straight, that approaches the Alberto corner….

CHAPTER 19 1970s

"LET GO! LET GO!” I knew as soon as my Model 19 reached battery, it was going off. The Magnum slammed into the perp’s neck, my souped-up mind was telling my unreasonably slow trigger finger: PULL, PULL, PULL. The man relaxed, his gun hand released, he stopped shoving—and in that nano-second, my mind flashed: Kill him, he tried to kill you, they’ll make you a hero, blow him away, kill him. But overriding this subconscious speed-of-light musing was a deeper inner articulation: American police officer, fair play, the rule of law, the right thing to do.

By the time I had the assaulting weapon secured and was ordering the perp to lie face down on the floor, the backup had arrived. We searched and cuffed him and threw him in the holding cell. My partner walked in as I began telling the sequence of events. He picked up the signal 30s revolver, opened it, looked at the loaded cylinder, and said, as he showed it to me, “You’re a lucky guy.”

The primer that had been under the hammer was dented; it had been struck by the firing pin. The man had pulled the trigger in an attempt to shoot me. But, because either the coat or my hand had impaired the fall of the hammer, it was a few ounces shy of striking hard enough to cause detonation.
 

CHAPTER 30 1990s

A cloud raced the moon to the Carew Tower as we bantered and strolled. Passing a particularly dark alley, I offered my arm, a gesture she appreciated, never letting go until we reached the Corvette.

"I thought we were going to your place—to meet Henry Kissinger.”

Looking her in the eye, with an impish grin that displayed even, white teeth, I admitted, “Maybe I made up the part about Hank. But I do have a picture of him, and perhaps we could just look at it over a glass of wine—and discuss Knueson.”

"You what?” she asked, a grin spreading across her face. “You don’t even know him, do you?”

"Well, not exactly. But I once knew a guy whose next-door neighbor’s brother’s veterinarian’s best friend’s uncle shook hands with a cop who—”

           “I should have known better than to believe anything from a detective. Well, if you can have a pseudo-dignitary staying with you, I can have a faux headache,” Sherri said, turning up her nose, feigning indignity. “Please, take me home, sir.”

The ice was broken. We smirked at each other as I helped her into the car.

Chapter 52

The coal black room with a wall of mounted wax heads was empty except for his friend Walt. They shook hands and the three of them exchanged a few bitches about a cop's lot in life.

Where's The General?" Carl asked.

"He'll be out in a minute. I think he's heating up some wax. There will be a new head on the wall soon," Walt grinned.

"Anyone we know?" I inquired, hoping for the best, but fearing the worst.

"Yeah. The lady lawyer I told you about. Did you find out anything on her partner?"

"No. I really haven't had time to do any checking," I answered, hoping he could control the fear and anger that was starting to boil inside. He turned to the wall, the far wall, the one without the heads, and pretended to interest himself in the array of plaques and other documents on display.

The most ostentatious caught his eye. Centered and surrounded by an elaborate gold frame with a brass name plate: THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS' CREED. The short tenet, printed in old English style type:....

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