Jack the Keeper

By Pringle McCloy

Fourth in the JACK series, JACK THE KEEPER is once again set in beautiful, coastal Vancouver. The rumble could rival an earthquake as three rival Triad gangs unite to eliminate a fourth. PI Charlie Hampton and computer-hacking genius, Willy Chan, jump in to curtail the damage as bodies pile up like cordwood. It doesn’t help that crooked Jack becomes the keeper of a hostage, a crime boss who happens to be a vicious old lady known for kicking and biting. Mayhem? It’s an earthquake, alright, just not the geological kind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pringle McCloy
• Release date: May 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463524312

Pringle McCloy

English major. Teacher. Tutor. My interest in mysteries began early in life after discovering a pile of Mickey Spillane novels in my dad’s library. I was taken with tough-guy detective, Mike Hammer, who then led me to Raymond Chandler’s PI, Philip Marlow, and so on. Chandler’s Marlowe and my Charlie Hampton have a lot in common but you’ll have to read THE JACK IN A BOX to see the similarity. Both are tough guys who take their whiskey straight and women tall. THE JACK IN A BOX was written while I was living and working in coastal Vancouver and is the setting for the novel. In the sequel, RETURN OF THE JACK, Jack is the same old shady, underworld figure, off to Beijing for more trouble with the Triad. Third in the series, POSSIBLY JACK AGAIN, is set in Santa Ana, California, where Jack follows Charlie to hopefully help find his own grandson who may have met with foul play. Fourth in the series, JACK THE KEEPER is posted now. Enjoy! J. Pringle contributes too with WOMAN COMING SOON and A MONTH IN THE COLONIES, the sequel. THE TAMING OF SAMANTHA ROE is now posted. All three chick lit novels are a lot of fun.

Book preview

Prologue

THE WEDDING DAY BEGAN QUIETLY, so quietly I had too much time to think. What was Emily Chan thinking marrying Jack? And did this serious error in judgement make her son, Willy, my surrogate brother? Now in their late fifties if Jack and Emily had a child would I be disinherited along with drug lord, Richard Chang, Jack’s biological son? If that’s confusing to you, what about me?

In a nutshell, I was a stolen child. While some people believed I’d been rescued from the funeral chapel after my parent’s crash I knew better. I knew that Jack just wanted a clone and that as a kid I was gullible. Yes, he’d been my dad’s employer and felt a sense of guilt since I’d been orphaned. Great start. At age ten I was pouring his whisky and staying up late at night humoring him, along with his crony, Tony Chan, yawning and listening to stories that weren’t remotely funny. I mean, how funny is freshly laundered money? Or the kiss of expiry? And yes, there were a lot of Chans in my life and I wasn’t even Chinese.

So, at almost forty, and a hotshot PI with slick dark hair and eyes the color of a swimming pool on a sunny summer day, I wanted to run away from home. But since Jillian had already done that I’d only look like a copycat. Yes, she left me again, two days after the wedding, just because I didn’t want kids. Can you believe it? Maybe she should have asked that question before buying the big white dress. Well, Jack bought it, actually, to the tune of tens of thousands, but that didn’t make me like kids any better. I had nightmares about the little ankle bitters, in fact. They mostly came out of the woodwork like mice, chewing on my leg and even after I swatted them away they kept coming back calling me Dad. They just didn’t get it. Jillian didn’t either. I knew this for certain after receiving the annulment papers from France, easy to ignore since they were written in French. She loved me. I loved her. Maybe we could meet in the middle and just get half a kid.

So, there I was again, standing at the church doors and dragging on a cigarette while watching the parade of collector cars arrive. Jack’s gang was cruising in led by Sharp-dressed Tony, Sammy, and various gangsters looking for free food and booze and high-class hookers too, since Jack wasn’t cheap. He bought the best for his boys and even paid for their funerals if they happened to catch the clap. The good news was that Jack’s boys were mostly over the hill and were more likely to die of natural causes, given the choice. He paid for those funerals too.

You know I’ve never liked you, said a familiar voice behind me. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to be related to you. It pisses me off that I have to kill you now.

I turned to face my lifelong best bud, Sir William Chan, although only knighted in Chinatown. And if you haven’t met Willy yet let me say you’re in for a treat. Firstly, he’s about the best-looking guy you’ll ever see, present, past or future. Willy wears his shiny dark, shoulder-length hair parted in the middle and his round eyes speckled-brown. He wears his teeth pearly-white and they glisten when he smiles and Willy has a lot to smile about. Willy is a thief. Not a bank-robber but a computer-hacking genius who likely knows your bank account number and your balance — however if you’re not in Forbes you’re safe. He only robs the big guys. Then there is the Triad money and, as a double agent, what he earns working for Jack.

He smiled the infectious Willy smile. I haven’t liked you since you shot that damn canary and blamed me.

I punched him on the shoulder. I did shoot the neighbor’s canary, in fact. Then I gave the bibi gun to Willy and made him shoot the bird too after it was dead so he couldn’t tell a lie. We were ten years old, bud. Give it up.

You were a bully. Still are.

I laughed. Since Willy had an IQ of three hundred and ten my only advantage was my size. I had to beat him at something. Want a fat lip?

Want a little lead (Pb) in your ear? With an AK 47?

My dad is going to fuck your mom tonight.

He giggled. You’re such an ass, Hampton. With that he shook his shiny dark hair and sauntered into the church.

I was talking about my surrogate dad, to be exact. Jack never bothered to adopt me and it pissed me off when people said how much we were alike. Two peas in a pod, some people said but those people happened to be gangsters and thugs who knew very little about peas in a pod. Digging shallow graves, maybe, or dumping bodies off a bridge. This they knew something about.

Could there be more Chans? Absolutely. It was all Tony’s fault. Tony and his lovely wife, Maya, occupied the guest house at 33 Terrace Place and served as chauffeur and cook, respectively. The problem? Tony came with flaws connecting him to casino high roller rooms in Macau. Additional flaws caused him to smuggle his illegal-alien nephews into Port Vancouver. So, Billy and Jackie Chan had worked for me on various assignments, some of them even legal, and were about to work for me again but I leap ahead. Thing One and Thing Two were giggling behind my back.

Amster! Jackie’s hair stood straight as a brush atop his head, three inches high. You look like a penguin. The brothers were wearing the identical suits Willy had bought for their trip to Santa Ana. Another story. But it was Jack’s fault they called me Amster. My sir name being Hampton, Jack christened me Hamster the day he brought me home from my parent’s funeral and it stuck. But new to English the new Canadians did the best they could.

Billy’s brown eyes flashed. Amster. Sorry but we didn’t bring any fish.

So, they were comedians now. I didn’t like my tux any better than they did. Keep it up and I’ll break your fucking necks.

They giggled. You know what Shorty said, Amster. In California. Jackie hopped around making fists and jabbing like a boxer. Shorty said you couldn’t fight your way out of a wet paper bag.

Speak of the devil. Richard and his Triad goons came prancing up the stairs looking tough. I didn’t flinch. As I’ve said before I was taller than Shorty Poo, thinner than Fat Freddie Fong, and only a tad scared of King Kong Chin, the Butcher.

Jackie and Billy weren’t so confident. Here comes Wichard. The big cwiminal. Let’s hide. They dashed into the church.

As the handsome Asian drug lord led his troops towards me I remembered first seeing the foursome from my spying suite across from Leo the Lizard Cheng, with whom Jack was embroiled in a bitter takeover battle. That was before Leo tried unsuccessfully to swim in the ocean dead.

Flashback:

Soon the service elevator clanged and when the door to Leo’s suite flew open my chin hit my chest. There they were! The big boys. Four of the most formidable dudes on the planet. Enter the boss, Richard ‘the Cleaver’ Chang, who stretched well above six-feet and oozed an air of importance, a presence mostly acquired at maturity, not mastered at thirty-three. He was a handsome devil too, with chiseled Asian features and the sharp eyes of a falcon. He meant business in his expensive, dark-olive suit and with his hair slicked seriously back, like he was suddenly DeNiro late for a funeral on the lot. There wasn’t a smile to be found anywhere on his face.

On Richard’s heels marched King Kong Chin, the Butcher, beady-eyed, balding and anxious, while Fat Freddy Fong, with no eyes to speak of, trudged along behind. Lastly, and most deadly according to the rumor mill, traipsed Sweet Shorty Poo, teetering on platform shoes and still not measuring five feet tall.

I was like an awestruck kid. I mean, scientists could launch a spaceship to Pluto with the energy in that room. I found myself smiling and wondering if these boys, as children, had played street games against other little kids who carried knives and won. Richard looked like a winner to me. And as for Shorty, well. I’d soon learn not to make fun of Shorty Poo.

Richard, I tried.

Charlie. Good to see you, old boy. He held out his hand.

I wanted to punch him in the phony English accent he’d acquired at Oxford. I kept my hand in my pocket. Sorry. I hear you have the flu.

King growled. And while Freddie and Shorty didn’t speak English they growled too. They didn’t like me. Funny that. Just because they’d tried to kill me and failed they thought I was some sort of escape artist. A Houdini. No one eluded Richard Chang, the most powerful drug lord on the Pacific Rim, and lived.

Richard cocked his head at me. Give it up, Charlie. Someone we both know and love is getting married today. You and I are in the wedding party. Truce for a day? Just one day?

I hesitated. So, let me get this straight. You’re not going to kidnap me today, right? And you’re not going to disappear to throw your enemies off your trail. You’re not going to steal my identity and re-appear in California as me either. Swell. I’m loving you now. Do you want to have sex?

He managed a half-smile, the best he could do even with gas. You just have to be a clown, don’t you?

I eyed the three clowns standing behind him. Well, I think I’m in fourth place but who’s counting? If not sex maybe we could dance. And since Jack was thumping up the stairs behind him I held out my hand. Always a pleasure, Richard.

So, with Jack slapping him on the back Richard had no choice. He tried to smile but his teeth looked like tin.

You two make the greatest team! Jack boomed. I’m the luckiest man on earth. His sandy curls were held in place by gel and his mustache too. I’m nervous. You got a drink, Hamster?

I pulled the mickey from my inside pocket. Is the sky blue?

It was raining but he didn’t give a damn about the grey sky. He guzzled. I’ve been standing on this same step so many fucking times. Jillian has married half the men on this planet and not one of them worth their weight in salt. Red crept into his cheeks. It was partly her fault, though. He guzzled more. I liked you best, Richard. It was just circumstances, that’s all.

Richard nodded. I was the best.

I snorted. Right.

Shorty Poo gave me the finger. In Chinese it said ‘testicles lopped off. Screaming’.

I unzipped my fly. Go for it, it said in French. Damn the Bastille. I was confident now that Tony Chan had parked the old Phantom IV and was gliding up the steps to save me.

Don’t worry about it, Charlie. Leave it open. Old Chinese proverb says dead bird never fall out of nest.

That did it. Jack roared. Richard roared. And because the goons were programmed to laugh on key they roared too. It was kind of funny. But just inside the church Tony said something to the boys in Chinese. They nodded. He patted me on the back. I told them you are my favorite.

When we’d all taken our places at the altar, Willy whispered in my ear. Kow Gong didn’t say you were his favorite. He said you had big ears.

It might have been funny. It should have been hilarious, in fact, had I not, from the corner of my eye, noticed Fat Freddie Fong turning green. He toppled to the floor.

Chapter One

DEAD. IT WAS WHAT THE Joneses did when they didn’t want to get married. They either died or paid someone to die for them. I was suspicious. Even after the doctors said it might have been a fish bone puncture, or twelve, from the salmon he’d demolished at lunch, I needed autopsy results. Who might have wanted Freddie dead? I was fixated on the motive. Jack tried to calm me down over midnight