A sixty-year-old mystery leads to murder.
When ninety-year-old Daniel Houlihan Jr. is accused of killing his stepdaughter, P.I. Samantha Summers is hired to prove heâs innocent, but only after he dies in prison. As Sam and her housemate, Chancy Evans, dig deeper, they unearth a sixty-year-old mystery behind so much death.
To complicate matters, Sam and Chancy have to deal with their non-maternal mothers â non-caring, non-feeling, non-loving â who never hesitate to tell either of them how disappointed they are in what they've become.
As Sam and Chancy close in on solving the mystery and the person behind the murders, their lives and the lives of their newborn twins are threatened, placing Sam in the position of deciding if finding the killer is worth putting the people she loves at risk.
A sixty-year-old mystery leads to murder.
When ninety-year-old Daniel Houlihan Jr. is accused of killing his stepdaughter, P.I. Samantha Summers is hired to prove heâs innocent, but only after he dies in prison. As Sam and her housemate, Chancy Evans, dig deeper, they unearth a sixty-year-old mystery behind so much death.
To complicate matters, Sam and Chancy have to deal with their non-maternal mothers â non-caring, non-feeling, non-loving â who never hesitate to tell either of them how disappointed they are in what they've become.
As Sam and Chancy close in on solving the mystery and the person behind the murders, their lives and the lives of their newborn twins are threatened, placing Sam in the position of deciding if finding the killer is worth putting the people she loves at risk.
With the exception of broken vending machines, change is inevitable, and Iâd experienced more in the last seven months than in the last decade. Change, that is, not vending machines.Â
Iâd recently returned from my Great-Aunt Irisâ second husbandâs funeral. He was ninety years old and died in prison. Heâd been arrested and held for the murder of my great-auntâs daughter, April. When the service ended at the cemetery, I told my aunt that I was skipping the get-together at her home and heading back to Milwaukee because I didnât want to be away from my housemate Samantha Summers for too long. Â
I'd missed my second cousin's funeral, not hearing about it because Sam â who's a private eye â and I were on a case that had taken us to California, New York, and Florida. Knowing I'd been along when Sam had solved some high-profile cases, my Aunt Iris asked me if I could look into who really killed her daughter. Â
From all of the newspaper accounts Iâd read, it sounded as if the police had arrested the right person. She insisted he was innocent, however, and âcouldnât have done something so dastardly.â Â
To extricate myself from the situation (people had begun to stare at my aunt and me), I told her Iâd think about it and get back to her. Â
By the look in her eyes, I could see she knew I was blowing her off. The last words she said to me before I headed home were, âHe didnât do this. He couldnât have. He loved April every bit as much as I did. Please think about it.âÂ
I promised her I would and drove back to Milwaukee from Portage, Wisconsin, my disappointed-in-me-not-being-the-girl-she-always-wanted motherâs birthplace. Â
I'm Aaron Chancellor Evans â Chancy to my friends, Ace to my housemate, Sam. When I was born, my mother insisted my name be Erin for her Irish heritage. My father told the nurse to spell it, Aaron. My mother has never forgiven himâŚor me.Â
I'm also a professional gambler and soon-to-be father of my aforementioned housemate Sam Summers' twins. Sam is an ex-cop, disbarred lawyer, and, as I said, currently, a private eye. She's also seven-and-a-half months pregnant with twins. Did I mention that already? Â
Sam, who is six-one (Iâm just over six feet), was the star player on the University of Wisconsin volleyball team and exclusively dates women. She has the dark complexion of her Sicilian father and hair color that changes by the day and sometimes the hour. Sheâs a head-turner, and not just because of her height. Iâve seen both men and women stop dead in their tracks to stare as Sam walks past. But the thing that makes me weak in the knees is her voice. It sounds like sheâs smoked three packs of cigarettes a day since she was five, although she claims she never even taken a single puff â of anything. Itâs been described as husky, smokey, and sultry. Â
Anyway, nearing our late thirties, Sam's maternal instincts kicked in, and seeing as I was in the neighborhood, well, actually, the same loft, she used me as a sperm donor. But twins? She wanted to blame me, but I reminded her about the fundamental nature of these things and that she must have released two eggs simultaneously. Yes, they're fraternal. One girl. One boy. Sorry, I guess you knew that, but I'm a bit shaken by all of this. Â
To accommodate our situation, I recently purchased the condo next to mine and turned my place into a dual unit. Sam's old room was turned into a nursery. Sam took the master bedroom in the newly purchased condo, which also happens to be the bedroom furthest from the nursery. The new, smaller bedroom is to be the home of our as-yet-to-be-found nanny.  Â
Fortunately, I won another World Series of Poker event in Vegas. The influx of cash was more than enough to pay for the new quarters. I had to pay a hundred thousand over the value of the place, plus another hundred thousand under the table as an incentive for the guy to accept the offer. Although, he actually seemed relieved to be rid of his unit after the number of times my place had been either bombed or shot up by people trying to do away with Sam for getting too close to solving a case and bringing the perp to justice. Sorry, there I go, getting carried away with the trite euphemisms. This twins thing has me rattled. Twins!Â
We already have a name for the girl â Riley. Sam and I have been going back and forth, trying to decide the boyâs name. I like the rhyming names twins often have. Sam thinks that, as with most of my ideas, itâs moronic. She may have a point. Iâve gone through the whole alphabet and have yet to find a name that rhymes. Miley, Smiley, or Kiley for a boy didnât seem right. I told her I liked Wiley, as in Wile E Coyote, but she didnât. At least, I donât think she did because she stared at me with a blank look for about five seconds, then turned and walked away. Â
I have only myself to blame. She did tell me it was going to be a bumpy ride. Â
Anyway, as I walked into my side of the condo, Sam was rifling through my refrigerator, looking for something to eat. Since the doctor made her stop jogging every morning, sheâd put on a few extra pounds on top of the excess baby weight. Sheâd developed gestational diabetes and was forced to eat healthy foods. No more apple fritters from Kwik Trip. No more extra sugar in her coffee. No more dark chocolate Ghirardelli squares. Â
Sam likes to project a hard, aloof nature and can be off-putting. But once you get to know her, you discover it's a defensive mechanism from her early years dealing with a harsh and bitter mother who hated Sam because she reminded her of her one true love that left her pregnant and alone. Iâve come to know Sam as a fierce and loyal friend, one who champions those who are treated poorly and looked down upon by society. She craves justice for all. However, lately, I have to admit that itâs been tough being around Sam when she craves sweets. Â
Without taking her head out of my fridge, she said, âDonât you have anything thatâs not healthy in here? Youâre a sad human being. Who does that?â By that time, sheâd closed the fridge door and opened my freezer. âAnd no Koppâs custard. You are a sick, sick person.âÂ
âDo I have to remind you,â I said, âthatâs what youâd be if I had some?âÂ
âGood point,â Sam said. She turned and looked at me and asked, âOkay, whatâs up? You have that sad puppy dog look about you, which usually means trouble for me. It couldnât be over the death of your great-uncle-in-law. You never even met him.âÂ
âWell, Great-Aunt Iris wants me to look into who killed April.âÂ
âHer daughter?â Â
I opened my mouth to speak, only to stop when Sam added, âDonât answer that if you know whatâs good for you.âÂ
âRightâŚâ I dragged out the word, knowing Iâd just been saved from one of Samâs severe putdowns. I quickly added, âShe insists he couldnât have done it.âÂ
"So why ask you?" ⌠"Oh, no. She's heard about the cases I've solved and thought you helped, soâŚ."Â
âWell, yeah, kinda.âÂ
âAnd you didnât bother to dispel that belief.âÂ
âUmâŚâÂ
Sam gave me a sad shake of her head.Â
âI helped,â I said in a whiny, childish voice.Â
âYeah, you drove.â Â
My head dropped, and I stared at the floor. Â
Sam burst out laughing. âGod, you are so easy to con. How do you ever win at poker?â She waddled over to me, cupped my face in her hands, and said, âAt times, youâve been invaluable. But donât let that go to your head. So, youâre thinking about doing this on your own?âÂ
âYeah, well, sort of.â
âWhatâs âsort of?â âÂ
"I thought I'd go up and have a look around. Talk to the police. Read the reports, and if I have a questionâŚ."Â
âYouâd call me.â
âYeah.â Â
I must have sounded hopeful because Sam said, âI donât feel like spending all day and night on the phone with you. Plus, Iâm bored. Iâm coming along. Iâll see if Adrianna wants to join us. Give me twenty minutes to pack and call her. You do what you do best, get some nice hotel rooms. Oh, and, as usual, bring your wallet.â  Â
Though ostensibly a murder mystery, Ace in the Hole by R. G. Peterson is a story of family and friendship. The tenth book in the Samantha Summers series, this novel re-introduces the reader to Aaron Chancellor Evans; Ace to Private Investigator Samantha Summers, Chancy to everyone else. Sam is a genius investigator, and Ace is the wealthy poker play (whose intelligence is primarily emotional) who bankrolls her investigations. Theyâre not in a relationship, but Ace is the father of Samâs soon-to-be-born twins. This case brings them (and Samâs incredible assistant Adrianna) to small-town Wisconsin, where Aceâs great-aunt Iris has recently buried her second husband, who was in prison for the murder of Irisâ daughter April. Iris is convinced that her beloved husband could never have killed April and after reviewing the evidence, Sam agrees. This leads Ace, Sam, and Adrianna down a red herring filled chase featuring covert love affairs, police corruption, and the elusive promise of hidden treasure. We encounter Aceâs mother Kayleigh and Samâs mother Rainey who demonstrate that the family you choose is sometimes superior to the family you are born to, and make the fierce loyalty between Sam, Adrianna, and Ace even more believable.
The author provides just the right amount of background detail; I have not read the other books in this series, and this did not prevent me from understanding the story or appreciating the characters. Ace in the Hole keeps the reader guessing. The writing is fast-paced and the dialogue between characters is quippy, funny and relatable. Ace, Sam, and Adrianna are all relatable, though at times Sam seems a bit too brilliant to be believed. There is the occasional tangent which takes away from the main plot of the story but does not keep the reader diverted for long. This novel is highly recommended for those who like a classic crime story and appreciate a modern twist. It leaves the reader wanting more.Â