BROKEN BOARDS, CHAPTER 1

A Jake Jansen Mystery

Chapter Two, The Kingpin »

CHAPTER ONE - THE NORTH SHORE

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The phone on the nightstand vibrated, lit up, and started beeping. Fumbling through the darkness, Jake Jansen reached for his cell, only to knock it off the nightstand and onto the floor. He sat up in bed, stretched, and ran his fingers through his tangled mess of hair before reaching down to pick up the phone and turn off the alarm.

“Okay, okay. I’m awake.” He’d been awake for a while.

Usually, Jake wouldn’t be up this early. Today was different. He’d been lying in bed, waiting for his phone alarm to chime. This was his favorite time of the year – Pipe Masters. During the 2^nd and 3^rd weeks of December, the entire surf world turned its eyes toward O’ahu’s fabled North Shore and the surf break that is known as the Banzai Pipeline. The top surfers in the world, their families, fans, and friends would descend upon the town of Hale’iwa and surrounding communities. The Pipe Masters typically would determine the World Champion for the year. This year, it would be no different. It was always the exciting conclusion to the year’s world surf competition.

Jake, a scholarship wide receiver at the University of Hawai’i, always ensured his calendar was open during this part of the year, finishing up all projects earlier than his classmates who were still preparing for their Christmas break finals. After all, Dean’s List came with some perks. If he wasn’t preparing for a Bowl game, then Jake was preparing to spend his December days on the North Shore of O’ahu.

Growing up on the island, he hadn’t missed the Pipe Masters since he was a boy. He opened the surf forecast app on his phone. The swell was going to be pumping today. A big smile came across his face.

“8-to-12-foot faces. Better than expected. And even bigger tomorrow. It’s going to be epic. Totally stoked.”

A trek out to the break this morning had been planned for a while in hopes of getting in on the free surf session when most of the pros were in the water getting ready for the start of the competition the following day. He always reveled in the chance to surf alongside the best surfers in the world, stealing any knowledge he could. He wasn’t good enough to be a pro surfer, but he wasn’t bad either. Maybe he wasn’t going to make a living riding surfboards, but there was no reason why he couldn’t learn as much as possible.

Jake could hear the island breeze whistling through the palm trees outside his window. Eventually, as he got closer to the North Shore, he would be able to hear the powerful, roaring waves in the distance. It was going to be a cool morning, but nothing the islanders weren’t accustomed to during this time of year. The roosters outside the window told Jake that it was time to get moving.

Jake switched on the lamp on the nightstand and then moved to his dresser. He slid into a pair of compression briefs before pulling on his board shorts. He squeezed into his rash guard, reached down, grabbed his blue hoody off the floor, emblazoned with the words “SURFING IS LIFE” across the chest, and pulled it over his head. He grabbed his hat off the dresser, pulling it down over his dirty blonde hair. Picking up his keys and wallet, he turned off the light in his room and strolled down the hall into the bathroom to brush his teeth, before moving on to the kitchen.

Jake was apprehensive as he glanced into the kitchen, unsure if he might encounter his Dad. No. Too early. “Good,” Jake thought since he was not feeling the need for one of his Dad’s lectures today. Jake opened the fridge and glanced inside, then paused in a moment of indecision. He grabbed the bottle of orange juice and the loaf of bread. He turned and reached for his backpack on the back of the barstool. He unzipped it, tossing in his wallet, phone, and the loaf of bread. Zipping up the pack, he turned to see his Dad leaning against the kitchen counter in shorts and a t-shirt, arms crossed, with a tired yet unamused look. Jake’s mood sank.  He was hoping to avoid this.

John Fitzgerald “Jack” Jansen was in his early 50s, well built, a little taller and broader, but a little less athletic than Jake. His dark, short hair, which had some gray starting to show, was a mess on top of his head in the early morning hours. A tightly manicured, graying goatee hugged his chin. Jack was a decorated, retired Naval investigator who served with distinction during the U.S. Navy’s regular occupation in the Middle East during the late 1990s and early 2000s. These days, he was still assisting the government as a special investigative aide while also helping the Honolulu Police Department with any cases where they might need additional guidance. He met his late wife, Anne, at Annapolis in 1995. They dated during school and married after graduation before being deployed to their first assignment in Pearl Harbor.

Jack and Anne fell in love with the idea of living on the islands and the warmth of the Hawai’ian culture. In the late stages of their military careers, they chose to return to Honolulu and raise their son Jake.

“Pipe Masters?” his father asked.

“Of course. Same time every year,” Jake said with little emotion.

“School work done?”

“Dean’s List, just like always,” as he slung the backpack over his shoulder.

“Shouldn’t you be preparing for a Bowl Game?” his dad asked.

“If you followed the football team I played for, you’d know we didn’t make a bowl this year.”

“Sorry, Jake, I’ve just been swamped,” his Dad said.

“Yeah, so have I.”

“But the good news is you’re almost done. You’ll have your degree. Then on to your next goal of….”

“Getting out of this house,” Jake interrupted.

Jake walked past his Dad and out into the garage, letting the heavy door slam behind him, breaking the early morning silence. He waited for a moment, thinking that might bring his Dad out behind him. Jake was unsurprised when his father didn’t follow, shook his head, and laughed to himself. “Just like him to not care enough,” Jake said out loud to no one in particular.

Jake hit the button, and the garage door opened. He squeezed past his Dad’s sedan, unlocking his blaze orange ’72 K5 Blazer. He opened the door and tossed the backpack and orange juice onto the passenger seat. Being careful not to scratch his Dad’s car, he grabbed his 6-foot shortboard out of the rafters, making sure to be careful and not knock the other boards down out of the overhead space. He slipped out of the garage and then over behind the Blazer, lifting the rear hatch, and sliding his surfboard over the spare tire.

Stopping for a second, he stood, staring at the Blazer he’d inherited from his Dad. They’d worked together over time to restore and rebuild the rig and replace the engine before his Dad gave it to him as a graduation present. It was a labor of love for Jack, Jake saw it as a means to an end, nothing more than a way to get his boards to and from the beach or to get around campus. Everyone else thought Jake’s vehicle was the coolest set of wheels on the island. For Jake, it was the thinnest thread that held together his relationship with his father.

Jake glanced around the quiet neighborhood for a moment and noted that all the houses had up their seasonal decorations and Christmas lights. Then he looked at the exterior of his house and saw nothing but darkness.

Jake hopped in the driver’s seat, slipped the key in the ignition, and turned her over. She roared to life, with the V8 engine purring smoothly. The radio came to life a little too loud for this hour of the morning. Jake chuckled and reached over, turning it off. This morning, he just wanted a little time with his thoughts.

Jake backed out of the driveway while hitting the button for the garage door, then drove off through the dimly lit housing community awash in Christmas lighting. He made his way up through Mililani Town, cutting through the middle of the island, before setting his sights on Hale’iwa.

Jake caught himself thinking for a moment about the conversation in the kitchen with his Dad. They hadn’t spoken much since his mother’s death 18 months prior. He had always been close with his mother until that fateful day, but her death had left a hole in the family that neither Jake nor his father seemed able to patch. Jake was still angry at his Dad for not being there when they needed him most. He had concluded that it was unforgivable for his Dad to be so absent during such an important time of need. Jack and Anne had been married for almost 25 years. Her career had been cut short by a forced medical retirement. Yet, Jack was nowhere to be seen when she needed him most. At least, that was Jake’s perception of things. He felt himself getting angry.

“I will not let it ruin my day. Not today.”

With the window down, and the early morning chill starting to fade, a light mist began to fall. Just enough to put a smile back on Jake’s face. He could hear his mother’s voice.

“Buzzy, just remember that the light rain is God’s happy tears blessing your day.” Ever since the first time she told him about God’s happy tears, Jake never once again had a problem with surfing in the rain. He laughed to himself. She always had that unique way of taking things he wouldn’t usually like and putting them in a way that would make him smile or laugh. It was a skill his Dad severely lacked. She had a way that made Jake feel like he was better than anyone, could accomplish anything, and that he was her special gift.

Anne had given Jake the nickname “Buzzy” when he was around one year old, saying he was always buzzing about something. Jake had never been a fan of the handle, but it had stuck with the family. Of course, once his friends picked it up, they used it to make fun of him around girls. In recent years, people mainly had stopped calling Jake by his nickname, and most had taken to calling him by his first name. Jack had called him Buzzy until Anne passed away, but at that point, Jack returned to referring to Jake by his formal first name. It was as if they had almost become strangers overnight.

As the rain started coming down a little heavier, Jake rolled up his window. Given the engine’s hum, plus his vehicle’s oversized tires, Jake decided he needed something to get him out of this headspace before it created too much negative energy. He couldn’t take that with him into the water. It would create too much mental distraction, and that could be dangerous.

He turned on his car stereo and activated its Bluetooth, connecting it to his phone. He opened his backpack, fumbled down the zipper, reached inside, and grabbed his phone. He opened the streaming surf app and hit play on the video link, listening to the commentary about the upcoming event. The conversation focused on the tight, three-person race and whom they thought would be a world champion within two weeks.

Glancing in his driver-side mirror, Jake could tell the sun was creeping over the mountains that separated the western and eastern halves of the island. The sky was beginning to lighten, and he could see an always-welcome double rainbow in the early morning glow as the rain started to disappear as quickly as it had arrived. Again, he heard his mom’s voice talking about God’s smile that always brought color to the sky. He laughed to himself. The double rainbow was a known symbol of future success, highlighting that the day was expected to be a good one. Jake smiled as he passed the world-famous Hale’iwa sign that let tourists and visitors know that the town was just up around the bend. He slowed as he approached the town, as it was common to come upon an unsuspecting wild rooster or even a loose family pet.

Hale’iwa was a tiny, trendy, and very touristy town on the North Shore of O’ahu, comprised of surf shops, food trucks, art galleries, mom-and-pop gift shops, general stores, and seafood restaurants. Once home to sugar plantations and later the U.S. Military at the outset of World War II, the area carried a significant amount of history beyond surfing. But at the end of the day, people came for the waves.

Jake made his way to his favorite little coffee shop located in the market area near the middle of town. He pulled into the parking lot and hopped out of his Blazer. He made his way to the shop, knowing they weren’t open for a few minutes, and sat at one of the picnic tables, waiting for 7 AM. He looked around and watched as the sleepy town came to life, just as he’d done so many times before. These early mornings in Hale’iwa were one of his favorite things in the world.

The door opened, and a beautiful, smiling, long-haired blonde in her early 20s popped her head out the door. Liz Kennedy had a crush on Jake, though she wondered if he was oblivious to her flirtations. They had become good acquaintances in recent years through their regular conversations during Jake’s stops at the coffee shop. But Jake’s attention was usually focused on the waves.

“Mornin’, Buzzy. Should have known you’d be here waiting,” she said, followed by a small laugh.

“Hey, Liz. Good to see a smiling face this early. A nice change from home,” he said, returning her smile as he stood up.

“Ah, so you already got a lecture this morning. Well, tell you what, come on in, and we’ll get you set up with something to help you hit the waves,” as she motioned with her head for him to come inside.

Jake followed her into the shop, not even needing to place his order. It was the same thing every time. Jake was as much superstitious as he was a creature of habit. Liz handed Jake a small cup of water and a small espresso.

“On the house. I can say I did my good deed for the day,” she said with a wink.

Jake was a hit with almost every female, young and old. He was charming, polite, well-spoken, and good-looking. He was tan, tall, lean, and muscular, from both football and surfing, topped off by a mass of always messy, sun-bleached hair, accompanied by a big smile below his bright blue eyes.

“You’re too kind, Liz,” he said with a shy smile.

“Maybe you’ll make it up to me one of these days,” she said with a flirtatious wink and bright smile. Jake wasn’t unaware of Liz’s attention. Liz made Jake nervous in a good way. But Jake found himself struggling with his grief in the wake of his mother’s death. He had struggled to bear the weight of losing the most important woman in his life. He wasn’t sure he was ready to take on a relationship with a new one.

“Yeah, maybe so. Gotta run. Meeting Rabbit. See ya soon, maybe,” he said as confusion danced through his head. He smiled at Liz as he opened the door.

“Tell Rabbit I said hey!” Liz said with a smile.

Jake waved a shaka, the famous Hawai’ian greeting of an extended thumb and pinky, before smiling at her and slipping out the door just as the early-morning tourists started to make their way into the shop.

Jake settled into his Blazer. He chugged the espresso, followed by a drink of water. He reached into the backpack and pulled out the loaf of bread. He pulled out three slices and devoured them quickly. He wanted everything to digest over the next 30 to 40 minutes, so it didn’t hit him wrong once he was out in the water. He took another drink of water to clear the taste of bread and coffee, then followed it with a quick chug of orange juice. He sat there for a moment as visions of Liz’s smile danced through his brain. He smiled to himself. “She’s beautiful, friendly, and has a kind warmth about her,” he thought.

Jake fired up the orange beast and rolled out of the parking lot, setting off down Kamehameha “Kam” Highway toward Ehukai Beach. He could tell by the traffic that it would already be getting busy, but he hoped to find a reasonably close parking spot. During his time on O’ahu, surfing the North Shore, and coming to the event, Jake had yet to get to know any of the pro surfers. He knew some of the pros from the North Shore just on an acquaintance basis, but in times like this, he could use their prestige to get him a decent parking spot. At least he’d learned his lessons from the early years and wasn’t walking two or three miles anymore.

Pulling up to the beach park, Jake found the lot surprisingly empty and pulled into a spot near the outdoor showers. Grabbing his backpack, he hopped out, went around back, pulled out his board, locked up the rig, and started for the beach.

As he approached the beach, Jake scanned the gathering crowd, looking for Rabbit Rothman. Jake had known Rabbit since grade school. And even though Rabbit moved to Maui his senior year of high school due to his father’s work, he always made the trip back to O’ahu to hang out with Jake for some surfing and to take in the Pipe Masters. Rabbit was the first Hawai’ian kid who had made Jake feel accepted; for that, he was always very grateful. Jake was born in Honolulu and, other than 18 months in San Diego, had spent his entire life on the island. But as a white kid, that won’t get you accepted. While he wasn’t a haole, a term commonly used for an unwelcome white person or mainlander of non-Hawai’ian descent, Jake learned that he had to earn his acceptance, which can be a physically, as well as emotionally, painful experience. He had a few permanent scars to show for it. But Jake’s persistent efforts in the surf over the years had paid off with numerous friends and an equal number of respected rivals.

Jake pulled out his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and opened his text chat – WHERE RU?

Jake waited for a few minutes and continued to walk along the beach. “Just like Rabbit to be late for a great swell,” he thought. He felt his phone buzz and glanced at his phone just as a text message popped up – TURN AROUND BRAH.

Jake turned around as Rabbit reached out his hand and pulled him in for a hug. Rabbit wasn’t as tall as Jake but was just as muscular. The years of surfing had sculpted his back, shoulders, and arms. His heavy, shoulder-length, black hair was pulled back. His lean, muscular legs showed chiseled definition from running the beaches during his years as a lifeguard. Unlike Jake, Rabbit’s naturally dark skin was tanned even more, and there would be no rash guard. Rabbit surfed in nothing more than board shorts.

“Dude, I’ve been here all morning!”

“Shut up, Buzz, justs’ saw you walk up, brah. You not foolin’ me,” he said, laughing through his pidgin slang.

“You eat? Need some bread and OJ?”

“Nah, I’m good, brah. Just soakin’ it up, man. Look at her,” he exclaimed excitedly, pointing at the rolling waves. “She’s getting ready to roar, brah. So sick!”

Jake turned around. They both stood there as Pipeline started working her magic, watching as bright blue, almost translucent tubes began to form and listening to the heavy, intimidating waves that were thundering toward the shore. They could feel the beach rumble beneath their feet. The sun had chased away the rain. The morning felt perfect. Jake looked over at Rabbit and smiled. He pulled off his hoody and hat. He reached down and fastened his leash to his ankle.

“Ready when you are, honu,” as he took off, sprinting for the water with his board under his arm.

“C’mon, brah!” Rabbit yelled as he laughed. “Wait up, haole!”

Being around the water brought out a childlike quality in the two friends.  Every time they went surfing together, it was as if they were in grade school all over again.

“Rabbit and turtle all rolled into one!” Jake shouted over his shoulder through laughter.

Jake was laughing as he headed for the water, glancing back at Rabbit, watching him fumble to get his leash on as he attempted to get out of his clothes. Jake was halfway to the break, paddling with powerful strokes before Rabbit even hit the water. Jake acknowledged the familiar faces with head nods and shaka greetings as he slowed into the crowd of surfers already in the water. He sat up on his board, waiting, laughing as Rabbit finally made it out to the lineup. Jake looked around at the crowd in the water and thought that lineup seemed more crowded than usual before acknowledging Rabbit as he paddled up to him.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” Jake said through laughter.

Rabbit splashed him with water.

“Save your energy, sweetheart. I don’t want to have to rescue you,” Jake said, laughing.

“Hey, I’m the former lifeguard, brah,” Rabbit replied while flexing his biceps. Jake laughed, rolling his eyes. Both Jake and Rabbit were very skilled in the water, knew proper safety techniques, and were always respectful of those around them. They knew that the ocean was no place to be clowning around and putting others at risk.

“Remember the last time we collided? Yeah, who won that battle? You had a concussion for a week, bro.”

“My head hit the bottom!”

“Yeah, well, no more party waves for you, brah,” Jake said mockingly, followed by a laugh.

Jake and Rabbit watched and waited. It was all about patience, waiting for the swell, and knowing your pecking order in the lineup. On a typical day, they were well-liked and respected local surfers. Out here with the pros, it was knowing your place. Surfers had established a reputation as hostile for many reasons, and both Jake and Rabbit knew that all too well. Even the pros could be aggressive if they think they had been slighted.

A couple of hours passed as Jake and Rabbit traded waves with the pros, asked for tips and pointers, discussed the water conditions, and continued to take in one of their best day of waves in a long time. It was time to call it a morning. They caught closeout whitewater in from the break before paddling the rest of the way into the beach. They grabbed their gear off the beach and went to the outdoor showers to wash away the sand.

“How’d you get down here? Bus?”

“Cousin dropped me off, brah. Comes out this way for work. She’s at one of the restaurants in Hale’iwa.”

“I’ll drop you back at your aunt’s house. What time we catching up tomorrow? Am I picking you up?”

“I think she works tomorrow too, brah, but not sure. I’ll let you know,” Rabbit replied.

“I’ll pick you up. It makes it easy. Come on, let’s get out of here, man, before it gets even more crowded,” Jake exclaimed as they headed off toward the Blazer.

As they approached the Blazer, Rabbit recognized the vehicle.

“Brah! Your Dad let you borrow the beast!?” questioning with equal shock and excitement.

“It’s mine. He gave it to me for graduation. We worked on rebuilding it,” Jake replied with indifference.

“Damn, totally sick, brah!” as they slid the boards into the back of the rig. “She looks way better than the last time I saw her. She was in pieces,” Rabbit said, laughing.

“Yeah, a lot of them,” Jake said with a laugh. “Come on, let’s roll,” Jake said as they hopped in. Jake fired up the Blazer, slowly backed onto Kam Highway, and set out toward Honolulu.

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Chapter One Breakdown