WHEN JACK TRUMPS ACE
by Debbie De Louise
I was used to living on the edge and had to admit I enjoyed it as much as my father had. He’d taught me all his tricks. Jack Riordan, or Jack of Diamonds as he called himself, was one of the most infamous jewel thieves in the Midwest. My mother appreciated all the luxuries his heists allowed her, but she didn’t have a clue he was the masked burglar who broke into homes and left his calling card on rich women’s jewelry armoires. The card—the Jack of Diamonds—of course. He had decks printed up with just that card. It was lucky, he said, but his luck ran out when he was caught stealing Widow Pendington’s diamond necklace the night she returned home early from the opera with her escort, a retired security guard skilled in jujitsu.
Mother didn’t fancy being married to a criminal, so she sent divorce papers to Dad’s jail cell. When he got out a single man, he begged her forgiveness and promised to turn over a new leaf. She spat in his face. She’d already found another man, one who earned his money legitimately. Dad’s only consolation was that, at eighteen, I was legally able to choose the parent with whom I wanted to live, and I chose him.
For three years, we worked together stealing jewels because Dad couldn’t kick the habit. He taught me to be his lookout and then how to crack combination safes. I became quite adept at this, and my father was proud of the skills I developed. Then came the night we broke into the home of the wealthy Carlton couple. They were dining at a fancy restaurant in Chicago. I disabled the alarm but wasn’t aware they had a backup. When Dad entered the house, the silent signal was sent to the police. When I saw the squad car pull up, I tried to alert Dad with our emergency sign, a low whistle he’d also taught me. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get out in time. I hid in the shadows and watched. In the scuffle, a shot rang out. I heard the police call on their phones to send help; the suspect was down. Before the ambulance arrived, I ran away. I knew I couldn’t help my father, and he’d always told me to get away if I could and not think about him. It wasn’t easy to do, but I realized it was my only option.
Heading back to our small apartment in a Chicago suburb, I followed Dad’s contingency plan if one of us was ever caught. I quickly packed a bag with a minimum of necessities and headed to the address of the man my father called, “The Ace.” He said they’d met in prison and forged a strong bond. The “Ace” was like the son he never had. He was also a jewel thief.
I couldn’t take the chance of using my car even though it had been parked several blocks from the crime scene. Instead, I caught a bus uptown and walked the remaining ten blocks to Ace’s place in an upper-scale section of Chicago. It was strange feeling fearful as I walked the dark streets, but I wasn’t afraid of an attacker; I was afraid of the cops. How could Ace live in this area with all the surveillance? I recognized an undercover patrol car and kept to the shadows. When I finally arrived at the brownstone and tapped the button that read, “Andrew Miller,” Ace’s real name or possible alias, I was buzzed into the dimly lit corridor. A man stood in the door of 2B. Ace and I had never met, although I’d heard many one-sided conversations between him and my father when they spoke regularly on the burner phones Dad collected.
Ace looked younger than I imagined, shorter, but handsomer. He didn’t look at all like a thief. His hair was reddish brown. It was slightly curly but well-trimmed and neatly nestled against his pear-shaped ears. He sported a thin moustache, and his eyes were a cross between blue and green shaded with the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen on a man. His lips were thin but sensual. I had an urge to kiss them, but I just stood there speechless.
“Jackie,” he said, and his husky voice made me swoon. I had no idea how he knew who I was because I’d arrived uninvited, but then I realized Dad must’ve shown him my photo.
“Ace, I mean, Mr. Miller, I’m sorry to drop in on you like this, but my father’s in trouble.”
Those beautiful aquamarine eyes clouded. “Come in, please. I’ll try to help if I can.”
As I entered the apartment, I saw a brown tail disappear under Ace’s red leather sofa.
“There goes Roxie. She’s a bit shy. Have a seat, Jackie. Would you like something to drink?”
Roxie? I didn’t know a jewel thief would have a pet. As I collapsed on to the sofa, I felt a sneeze coming on and reached for a tissue from my travel bag. I was highly allergic to animals, particularly cats.
Ace brought over two wine glasses and poured some sherry into each. “You definitely look like you could use a drink. Have you been crying?”
I wiped my eyes with the tissue from my bag. “No. It’s your cat. I’m sorry, but I’m allergic.”
“Really? That’s a shame. Cats are wonderful pets. Let me get her and put her in the other room.” He reached under the couch and pulled Roxie out. Up close, I could see she was a beautiful creature. She had sable paws and a cream body. Around her neck, she wore a blue collar that matched her eyes. The collar was studded with diamonds.
“What a pretty cat. She’s a Siamese, isn’t she?”
Ace nodded. He held the cat firmly in his arms. “Notice her collar. I got those rocks especially for her from a rich lady’s wrist.”
I now realized the sapphire and diamonds were a bracelet. I recalled my dad saying that Ace specialized in diamond heists.
Mother didn’t fancy being married to a criminal, so she sent divorce papers to Dad’s jail cell. When he got out a single man, he begged her forgiveness and promised to turn over a new leaf. She spat in his face. She’d already found another man, one who earned his money legitimately. Dad’s only consolation was that, at eighteen, I was legally able to choose the parent with whom I wanted to live, and I chose him.
For three years, we worked together stealing jewels because Dad couldn’t kick the habit. He taught me to be his lookout and then how to crack combination safes. I became quite adept at this, and my father was proud of the skills I developed. Then came the night we broke into the home of the wealthy Carlton couple. They were dining at a fancy restaurant in Chicago. I disabled the alarm but wasn’t aware they had a backup. When Dad entered the house, the silent signal was sent to the police. When I saw the squad car pull up, I tried to alert Dad with our emergency sign, a low whistle he’d also taught me. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get out in time. I hid in the shadows and watched. In the scuffle, a shot rang out. I heard the police call on their phones to send help; the suspect was down. Before the ambulance arrived, I ran away. I knew I couldn’t help my father, and he’d always told me to get away if I could and not think about him. It wasn’t easy to do, but I realized it was my only option.
Heading back to our small apartment in a Chicago suburb, I followed Dad’s contingency plan if one of us was ever caught. I quickly packed a bag with a minimum of necessities and headed to the address of the man my father called, “The Ace.” He said they’d met in prison and forged a strong bond. The “Ace” was like the son he never had. He was also a jewel thief.
I couldn’t take the chance of using my car even though it had been parked several blocks from the crime scene. Instead, I caught a bus uptown and walked the remaining ten blocks to Ace’s place in an upper-scale section of Chicago. It was strange feeling fearful as I walked the dark streets, but I wasn’t afraid of an attacker; I was afraid of the cops. How could Ace live in this area with all the surveillance? I recognized an undercover patrol car and kept to the shadows. When I finally arrived at the brownstone and tapped the button that read, “Andrew Miller,” Ace’s real name or possible alias, I was buzzed into the dimly lit corridor. A man stood in the door of 2B. Ace and I had never met, although I’d heard many one-sided conversations between him and my father when they spoke regularly on the burner phones Dad collected.
Ace looked younger than I imagined, shorter, but handsomer. He didn’t look at all like a thief. His hair was reddish brown. It was slightly curly but well-trimmed and neatly nestled against his pear-shaped ears. He sported a thin moustache, and his eyes were a cross between blue and green shaded with the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen on a man. His lips were thin but sensual. I had an urge to kiss them, but I just stood there speechless.
“Jackie,” he said, and his husky voice made me swoon. I had no idea how he knew who I was because I’d arrived uninvited, but then I realized Dad must’ve shown him my photo.
“Ace, I mean, Mr. Miller, I’m sorry to drop in on you like this, but my father’s in trouble.”
Those beautiful aquamarine eyes clouded. “Come in, please. I’ll try to help if I can.”
As I entered the apartment, I saw a brown tail disappear under Ace’s red leather sofa.
“There goes Roxie. She’s a bit shy. Have a seat, Jackie. Would you like something to drink?”
Roxie? I didn’t know a jewel thief would have a pet. As I collapsed on to the sofa, I felt a sneeze coming on and reached for a tissue from my travel bag. I was highly allergic to animals, particularly cats.
Ace brought over two wine glasses and poured some sherry into each. “You definitely look like you could use a drink. Have you been crying?”
I wiped my eyes with the tissue from my bag. “No. It’s your cat. I’m sorry, but I’m allergic.”
“Really? That’s a shame. Cats are wonderful pets. Let me get her and put her in the other room.” He reached under the couch and pulled Roxie out. Up close, I could see she was a beautiful creature. She had sable paws and a cream body. Around her neck, she wore a blue collar that matched her eyes. The collar was studded with diamonds.
“What a pretty cat. She’s a Siamese, isn’t she?”
Ace nodded. He held the cat firmly in his arms. “Notice her collar. I got those rocks especially for her from a rich lady’s wrist.”
I now realized the sapphire and diamonds were a bracelet. I recalled my dad saying that Ace specialized in diamond heists.
Want to read more?
Jackie Riordan's in trouble . . .
Jackie Riordan's in trouble . . .
When her jewel-thief father is caught in the middle of a heist, Jackie makes her getaway to his ex-jail pal’s apartment. A man called Ace, who lives in an upscale neighborhood of Chicago. What she doesn't count on is falling in love with him and becoming his partner in crime. She also doesn't expect to compete with Ace’s old flame or deal with his cat Roxie who causes her allergy attacks.
All bets are off . . .
After Jackie discovers clues left by her father which lead her to a treasure that Ace may have stolen, she contemplates her next move. Should she trust Ace and believe her father gave him the money, or head home to her mother, a religious hypocrite who would have no qualms about ratting out her own daughter to the cops?
Things that sparkle aren't always Diamonds . . .
Before Jackie can decide who the good guys really are, she finds herself atop the Willis Tower carrying her father's ashes in her pocket and aiding Ace in the largest jewelry heist of his life. Things go terribly wrong, and Jackie's only choice seems to be to walk away from Ace or face imprisonment.
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