The fall of jake henness.., p.1
The Fall of Jake Hennessey, page 1
The Fall of Jake Hennessey
P.J. MacLayne
Jake Hennessey deals in selling fine jewelry of an illegal nature. The thrill of getting away with it is his addiction. When he hears a rumor about a rare old book in the personal collection of a small-town librarian, he gets the urge to try a new game.
After all, even jewel thieves get bored.
But the librarian, Harmony Duprie, isn't what he expected and the challenge becomes serious business.
In order to win, Jake's going to have to play by a new set of rules—and make them up as he goes along—because this time, he's playing for the rest of his life.
Table of Contents
The Fall of Jake Hennessey
Description
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Excerpt from The Harmony Duprie Mysteries
Acknowledgements
Contact
Copyright
Also by P.J. MacLayne
Dedication
For my brothers and sisters, including my brothers and sisters-in-law, whose support comes in many forms.
Chapter One
Caged in its gold setting, the deep-green emerald glowed in the dim light. Jake didn’t stop to admire the ring before slipping it into the hidden pouch on his waistband. There’d be time for that before the new owners claimed the prize. It wasn’t a stunning ring, but its ties to the French monarchy made it priceless to a collector.
First, he needed to cover his tracks. The Gordons, the occupants of the suite, shouldn’t return from dinner for another half hour, but Jake wanted to be gone long before that. Sometimes getting out was harder than getting in.
He’d lifted a master keycard from a front desk agent and slipped a teenage boy five bucks to knock the security camera out of place. The security guard had been called to deal with an overflowing bathtub on the fifth floor, also courtesy of the master key.
The hotel had changed the default combination for the safe. Not a show-stopper, but Jake’s goal had become more of a challenge and time-consuming. He’d had to unscrew the two fasteners from the front plate to reveal the locking mechanism. Next, using a hook pick and tension bar, he’d slipped the tumblers into the unlocked position and opened the safe’s door to reveal the contents.
The cash was tempting and untraceable. Jake couldn’t resist slipping one bill from the middle of the pack and tucking it into his pants pocket. However, his eyes had focused on the small, locked jewelry box.
Jake had feared he’d run into an electronic case, like those used to transport guns, but this container turned out to be old-fashioned and easy to open. Carved from dark brown wood and imbedded with ivory in a floral and vines pattern, the box was its own piece of art. Jake would leave it behind to make it less obvious anything was missing. He regretted having to abandon it. It might have earned him a hefty bonus.
With the ring tucked away, he reversed the order of his work: re-locked the jewelry box and returned it to the safe, closed the safe’s door and made sure it locked, refastened the front plate, and shut the panel that covered the device.
All that remained was his escape. He opened the door a crack and pressed his ear to the opening. In this case, silence wasn’t golden. He wished for a noisy group of travelers to come by, masking his exit. Better yet, the confusion caused by a blackout. Neither happened.
The deep voice of Roger Gordon flowed down the corridor. Jake was trapped with no way out. The suite had more hiding places than a standard room, but he wasn’t a small man and wouldn’t fit behind the sofa or in the closet. The ninth-floor room didn’t have a balcony, and Jake hadn’t brought a parachute.
There were other voices, ones he didn’t recognize, but were relaxed and non-threatening. A door opened and closed, followed by silence. He had to risk it. He tucked the plastic gloves he wore into his jean’s pocket and, as casually as if leaving his own room, he widened the crack with his shoulder and entered the hall, his phone in his hand. It was turned off, but the security cameras wouldn’t catch that detail.
The cameras could track him throughout the hotel, so he did the obvious. He headed for the lobby, waved at the front desk clerk, and went outside, ostensibly for a cigarette. Jake didn’t smoke, but the fresh air helped take the edge off his nerves. Plus, there were a couple of pretty ladies to flirt with and a trash can for his plastic gloves. Next stop would be the bar, a drink, and hopefully friendly company to distract him from the inevitable hangover left behind by the adrenalin rush he’d experienced. He wouldn’t be in the clear until he checked out in the morning, but he congratulated himself on a successful mission. In a few days, the ring would reach its new owners and a fat bundle of cash would pad his slim savings.
****
His new venture was doomed before it even got off the ground. Jake pushed the binder of real estate flyers across the desk towards the agent and rubbed his chin. Was the stubble he cultured getting too long? In this game, appearances were half the battle. “Sorry, Sarah,” he said, reading her name off the ID on her lapel. “But these are boring. Ranch-style houses all look the same to me. I’m plotting to tackle a project with personality.”
If Sarah held out on him, he’d have to find another way to get to his goal. But he had time. He was lying low after the last theft and hadn’t caught wind of anyone else interested in this target. “Boring” described the town of Oak Grove and everyone who lived in it. That included the petite, brown-haired lady sitting across from him, making her easy prey. He fluttered his eyes and leaned in. “Don’t you have anything interesting listed? I swear I spotted a Victorian or two when I stopped to buy gas.”
Until three days ago, Jake hadn’t known a Victorian from a ranch from a hole in the ground. But he’d done his research and now could spout the basic lingo. It was all part of the game. He played to win.
His question got the hoped-for response. Sarah’s eyes brightened, and she reached for a second binder. “I assumed you wanted quick flips, Mr. Hennessey. My apologies. If you are looking for a house with character, we have those, too. Of course, the nicest ones aren’t for sale, but we have several older homes available.” She flipped through the leaflets and stopped at one. “Is this more what you’re looking for?”
Jake allowed his fingers to trail over hers as he reached for the book. A little flirting never hurt. She didn’t pull away. A good sign, as was the slight blush that reddened her cheeks. He pretended to study the picture of the house she’d picked out, although it wasn’t what he imagined. It sat squeezed between two other homes, and he valued his privacy. “Do you mind?” he asked, but didn’t wait for her permission before turning the page.
Sarah didn’t object. Good. That put him in control. Besides, he’d decided which house he wanted several days ago. It had looked empty, but he hadn’t spotted a For Sale sign. Still, he’d picked this nondescript woman as his agent for a reason: her friendship with Harmony Duprie. Jake had spent a week stalking Duprie, determining her habits, and figuring out how to get close to her.
Rumor claimed that Duprie owned a rare 1777 edition of the English translation of The Three Musketeers. Another tidbit of gossip reported that a certain unscrupulous computer mogul on the west coast was in the market for the book. Jake normally worked in fine jewelry, but the challenge intrigued him.
Not to buy and sell the book or act as an agent between the two. He lived for the danger of a well-planned heist.
He flipped through several more pages. “Nothing’s grabbing my attention.” He closed the binder. “Maybe another time.”
“We get new listings every week,” Sarah said. “If you give me a contact number, I can alert you when something interesting hits the market.”
Jake shook his head. “Nothing against you, Sarah, but my company enforces strict rules about handing out our numbers. Privacy concerns, you know. But if your agency has a website, I’ll check it.” He adjusted the sleeves of his tailored suit and flashed a practiced smile. “If you have a business card, I can reach out to you directly.”
The excuse worked. It always did, especially with salespeople who saw it as a path to a big sale later. “Of course!” Sarah pulled a card from the holder on her desk and handed it to him. “My advice is to check every few days. Buyers from Pittsburgh and Cleveland are interested in our small town’s lower real estate prices. The best deals get snapped up right away.”
Jake took the card with his left hand and offered his right for a shake. When she shook it, he held hers for a second too long. The art of flirting had saved him a time or two.
He left the office more confident in his plan. A few adjustments and it would work. The book would be his for the taking. He grinned as he climbed into the rented car and headed south towards Pittsburgh. A room in a fleabag hotel waited for him there, under one of his alias names, but it was better than sleeping in a grocery store parking lot.
****
Jake waited four days to return. He put his time in McKeesport to good use, making friends in run-down bars—easy enough to do with the money to buy drinks—and researching the job duties of a librarian. Despite her silly hairdo, instinct told him there was more to Duprie than the bun and thick glasses showed. How else would a small-town old maid have the resources to indulge in the expensive hobby of collecting rare old books?
The librarians at the Pittsburgh facility were more helpful than he expected. He spent one morning pretending to read business magazines to get a feel for the daily routine. The next day, he tracked one little old lady as she worked at the front desk and talked to the customers. He followed a pair of younger librarians to a nearby restaurant and listened to their gossip as they ate lunch. They discussed the latest popular TV show, but he also picked up a few choice pieces of their lingo. He’d remember to call the customers ‘patrons’ and the bookshelves ‘stacks.’
The terminology would come into play later. But, he wasn’t ready to woo the lady yet. A return trip to the real estate office topped his list.
****
After the fourth house, Jake suspected Sarah’s smile remained on her face out of habit, not happiness. “It would be better to tear down that last place and start over,” he said.
“Sorry about that,” Sarah said. “The listing is new, and I hadn’t had the chance to see it yet. Thank you for catching me when the front step broke.”
The almost-mishap had earned Jake bonus points for playing hero and given him a moment of enjoyment. When Sarah loosened up, her smile became less stiff and her eyes brighter. And it was never a bad thing to hold a lady in his arms. Jake’s normal female companions were more interested in the booze or the buds he provided. Many of them spoke glowingly of his physical attributes, but he didn’t trust their judgment.
He worked hard to stay in shape. Most people in the business were slight in stature and able to worm their way through tight places. He had to make up for his size with his strength, dexterity, and magician-like sleight-of-hand skills. Also, his ability to read people’s body language and use the knowledge to manipulate them. Some jobs, like this one, required all those techniques.
But his plans for the night were easy. He’d overheard Sarah discussing meeting up with her friends, including Duprie. He’d show his face, drink a beer, and then head back to the fleabag motel he’d found in McKeesport. It was a way to break the ice. No pressure.
****
The Pink Flamingo had an interesting decor for a small northern town. The faded plastic flamingo in the front window may have been pink at one time, but the sun had bleached it almost white. Once inside, Jake stood and studied the setup before proceeding past the dining area’s pink booths and to the bar in the back. The feminine laughter coming from that direction assured him he’d found the right place. He took off his jacket and laid it on the stool beside him to deter any unwanted companions.
He wanted to be seen by one lady in particular. In the cloudy reflection of the mirror behind the bar, he had trouble determining which of two ladies in the group of four was Duprie, because they looked like sisters. But the brown hair worn in a bun was the giveaway. Once he identified her, he turned his focus to his beer and to the basketball game on the TV.
At least to outward appearances.
He was alert to her presence when the four women passed by on their way out. She seemed as willing to ignore him as he was to pretend that he didn’t notice her. That situation would change when he was ready. It surprised him Sarah didn’t stop and say hello, but perhaps she kept her work life separate from her night with her friends. Or, he flattered himself, she didn’t want the competition for his affections. That worked well with his plan. The groundwork had been laid.
He used the drive back to McKeesport to look for flaws in the plan. The quiet ones were the ones to watch out for, and Duprie qualified. But until he got closer to her, he wouldn’t know what surprises she held. He looked forward to finding out.
****
Jake had figured out her schedule, so he didn’t need to rush back to Oak Grove after he checked out of the motel. He’d found one for the same price that was cleaner and closer, off the interstate north of Pittsburgh. It would save him gas and time, and let him get more sleep. He intended to ignore Duprie for a day, but after taking a second shower in the bathroom with no roaches, he was bored. All the room’s TV offered were soap operas or the news channels.
He planned to ‘accidentally’ bump into her on her way out of the library after work. But the hot showers, the fresh sheets and the droning of the news anchor lulled him into sleep.
He awoke with a jerk and a curse. The sun forcing its beams through the thin curtains assured him he hadn’t lost the entire day. He didn’t have time for another shower, which he would have relished. It would take him several days to feel clean again.
The drive to Oak Grove restored his good humor. Driving always did. Sometimes, he considered becoming a truck driver, but that wouldn’t supply the adrenalin rush of successfully pulling off a heist. And truck drivers were on the top of cops’ suspect lists for crimes along major highways. Besides, he sought an opportunity to make this a two-for-one deal. There was talk about a jewelry exhibit at Fallingwater, a historical site north of Pittsburgh. There’d been no announcement about which collection would be displayed, but any of the Rockefeller groupings contained pieces worth his attention.
Her car didn’t occupy its normal spot when he reached the library. It was another piece he couldn’t make fit into the puzzle of Harmony Duprie. Why would she drive a beat-up old Pinto when she had money to spend on expensive books?
Jake hadn’t eaten lunch, or breakfast, and the Pink Flamingo seemed as good of a place as any to grab a bite. Maybe he’d get lucky and the cute waitress would serve him. She’d be fun to flirt with, and he suspected she’d be happy to flirt back. He’d have to stop there. If Duprie caught wind of anything beyond that, it would destroy his chances with her, and end his plot for getting his hands on the book.
As if summoned by his thoughts, there she stood by the restaurant entrance, talking to an old lady. What had changed from her normal schedule? He pulled into the farthest parking space because he didn’t want her to spot him. Not yet. He leaned over, checked his reflection in the rear-view mirror, and swept his hand across his dark-brown hair. It was time for a trim, but Duprie might be one of those women who liked to run their fingers through a man’s hair. He’d wait.
A second old lady exited the restaurant, then another. Duprie held the door for each of them. When a fourth came out, he jumped out of the car, jogged to the entrance, and seized the opportunity. Jake couldn’t tell if Duprie was coming or going, but her good manners had her acting as a doorman, and he’d earn points by taking over her duties. He didn’t have to fake the grin that lit his face as he winked at her and reached for the door handle.
Their hands touched for the barest moment, but he didn’t push it by letting the contact stretch out. It was like taming a wild horse. She’d bolt if he moved too fast. He half-bowed and swept his free hand to indicate her freedom. A slight red color highlighted her cheeks as she hurried inside.
Another old lady came out while he watched. The waitress—not the cute one—led Duprie to a booth. Jake wondered how she’d react if he joined her. That would push things too fast and too soon. He closed the door and returned to his car to seek a different place for supper. He’d wait to make his move.
Chapter Two
Pity he wasn’t a pickpocket. The historical house known as Fallingwater had sounded like the perfect setup for a heist, but after surveying the grounds, Jake wasn’t so sure. He pretended to admire the pale-pink springtime foliage and the building in the distance, but it was the people in line that drew his attention as he studied them for possibilities and wondered if the lines were always this long. Crowds cramped his style.
“Your wife drag you here, too?” asked the overweight middle-aged man in line behind him. The lady by his side frowned and rolled her eyes.
