BROKEN BOARDS, CHAPTER 14
BROKEN BOARDS, CHAPTER 14
A Jake Jansen Mystery.
« Chapter Thirteen, Digging For Leads -
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - JAKE AND KEN
Jake pulled into the parking lot at Kahala Mall. He ran through his thoughts about everything that was taking place. Was he prepared to go further in this investigation? What if it did start to get more dangerous, as his Dad warned? Then what? Did he want to keep going at all costs? Risking his safety to avenge the death of his friend for what appeared to be some form of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Would it all be worth it?
There were many questions still to be answered. But then and there, he committed to seeing this through to the end, no matter where the trail of evidence may lead. There was an obviously dangerous element at play. “They killed my friend, so I know they won’t hesitate to kill me if I get too close,” he thought. “Proceed with caution.” He could hear his Dad’s words nagging at him, like a voice in his head, as he laughed to himself.
He picked up his phone from the cup holder in the center console, dialed Island Vintage Surf, and waited for an answer.
Jake hesitated before disguising his voice just in case this person was around in the shop when he went in to speak with Ken Mitchell.
“Hey, yeah, bro, I’m interested in sponsorship. Is the owner around today?” Jake asked. “He is. Awesome, bro. I’ll be by later today to speak with him. Could you give me his name? Ken Mitchell. Got it, bro. Thanks.”
Jake took his time, strolling through the mall, pretending to shop just in case he was watched or ran into Jose Silva. He wondered what they were doing right now. Were they in hiding? Were they still on the island? What happens if they’ve gotten away? “How far am I willing to chase them?” he thought. And then he was hit with the realization that he didn’t even have a passport. “I’ll worry about that at another time,” he thought to himself as he wandered through the mall.
Jake looked at the stores and shops, glancing at people out Christmas shopping. The mall was busy since the 25th of December was right around the corner. Native islanders and tourists had flooded the mall to get the perfect last-minute gift or souvenir. Jake looked side to side, occasionally turning around to watch for anything that might seem out of the ordinary. But that was the thing. Nothing seemed strange. It was hard trying to locate a stranger among even more strangers. He tried to be aware of any strangers’ body language like his Dad had highlighted when watching the video, but it was to no avail. Nothing stood out to him.
Jake passed through the mall near the main entrance, stopping to glance up at the giant Christmas tree that he used to come and see with his mom. It brought back even more memories of how his holiday season would be forever changed. And now, after this year, it had changed even more. He tried not to stay in his thoughts but rather stay alert.
Jake’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, opened it, and found a text from his Dad – BE CAREFUL!! THAT’S IN BOLD, UNDERLINED FONT. Jake laughed, rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe he spelled out what font he wanted to be using,” Jake said out loud to nobody in particular.
He opened up the app screen and scrolled to find the audio recorder. He started the recorder and slipped it back into his pocket. He then went strolling through the mall for a moment, singing Christmas songs, before stopping in front of a random shop. He glanced around, pulled his phone back out, and stopped the recording. He then hit play and listened. He was happy to hear that it picked him most necessary audio clearly and even filtered out most background noise. “I just need to make sure I’m close enough to Ken to get anything he says on the recording, just in case,” he thought. As he walked toward the surf shop, he caught himself humming the James Bond theme and laughed.
Jake walked into Island Vintage Surf and started sorting through random displays of clothes. He picked through some shirts and board shorts and made a specific point to move slowly through the store. A few other customers wandered into the store, so Jake moved further away from the entrance. A young girl in shorts and a brightly colored surf shop shirt with the words TRUE VINTAGE diagonally scripted across the chest.
“Looking for anything in particular?” She asked.
Jake turned around, glanced at her nametag, and smiled.
“Allie, I have no idea what I’m looking for,” he said, laughing. “I’m shopping for my very uncool, very unfashionable Dad. So basically, whatever I buy won’t matter,” he said, rolling his eyes and smiling. Allie laughed.
“Well, we have most of the latest styles and brands. Are you trying to find your dad shorts to surf in, swim, or just casual wear?” Jake couldn’t help but laugh when she said surf.
“Definitely NOT something to surf in. My Dad wouldn’t be caught dead on a surfboard,” he replied.
“Well, take your time and look around. I’m here all afternoon if you need something.”
“Thanks, Allie. I’ll probably be here a while. Thinking about getting a new surfboard, If I can talk my Dad into giving me money for Christmas. Are you able to help with the boards too?”
“I don’t know a lot about them, but the owner is here today.”
“Oh, wow, just my luck,” he said, pretending not to know anything about Ken Mitchell or the shop. “I really appreciate your help. Feel free to take care of the other customers. Like I said, I’ll be here for a while.” Allie smiled, gave a shy wave, and wandered off to meet the customers that were looking at footwear near the fitting rooms.
Jake wandered to the back of the shop, sorting through clothes racks and pulling out shirts. He laughed to himself, thinking that there was no way his Dad would wear one of these tee shirts. He glanced around for a moment before realizing that his behavior might appear suspicious. He was overthinking things in his effort to draw as little attention as possible, eventually making his way to the back wall. He stood there looking at all the boards, standing on the tail end, stacked in racks, from shortest to tallest. Boards of all colors, lengths, thicknesses, and widths were standing in front of him.
As he stood there looking at boards, it brought back a flood of memories. He smiled as he thought about the first time his parents brought him and laughed at the memory of his father’s sticker shock reaction to paying hundreds of dollars for a used board. Jake told his Dad to think of it like buying a used car. “You can do a lot of things with a car, Buzzy. You can’t do anything with a surfboard except surf,” his Dad told him at the time. His memories turned to all the times he came here with Rabbit.
He was overcome with a sense of dread and sadness. He could feel himself starting to sweat, knowing that Rabbit had been here just a few days ago and that it was here that he made that final fateful decision.
“Buzzy? Buzzy Jansen?” a familiar voice came from behind him.
Jake turned around to find Ken Mitchell walking up to him with a big smile, sticking out his hand. Jake shook his hand and smiled.
“Mr. K, good to see you.”
“Wow, Buzzy. It’s been a while. I don’t think I’ve seen you since your mom passed away. My condolences, by the way. I was terribly sorry to hear.”
“Thanks. Yeah, it’s been a while. I think I saw you last year at Pipeline during the contest but didn’t get a chance to say hello. But I don’t think I’ve been here in quite a long time.”
Jake pulled out his phone and pretended to check his text messages. Looking up and smiling at Ken, he hit the record button.
“Just my Dad texting me his Christmas wish list,” he said with a laugh.
“You finally talk the old man into surfing?” he asked, pointing at the surfboards. Jake laughed.
“Absolutely not. I was looking at some shirts or sweatshirts. I’m going to try to correct his bad sense of fashion. Over 20 years on the islands, and he still dresses like he’s from the East Coast of the mainland.” Ken laughed at Jake’s comment. “I’m looking at the boards for me. I haven’t bought one in a few years. Just looking for something new,” he said as he looked at some of the boards. Jake stood there for a moment, careful not to turn the conversation in the wrong direction. But he also needed to get whatever information might help further their investigation.
“Your Dad still doing investigation stuff?”
Jake pretended not to hear him and continued to look at the boards.
“Jake?”
“Sorry, what?” he asked, looking at Ken.
“Is your Dad still doing investigation work? He still working with the Navy?”
“Oh, yeah. He got out of the Navy right after mom passed away but is working as special counsel, doing certain investigations. He’s doing some civilian stuff on the side. Anything to keep him busy, I guess,” Jake replied. “He’s helping with the recent investigation about the Rabbit Rothman incident.”
“Rabbit Rothman? Didn’t he move to Maui a couple years back?”
“He did. He would come back every so often. He was here for Pipe Masters, and something happened. They found his body in the industrial harbor.”
“What? That’s terrible. How did I not hear anything about this?”
“HPD is being very hush hush. I guess they don’t want to scare the tourists and surf fans. They’re trying to keep the investigation quiet.”
“I hadn’t seen Rabbit in a long time. That’s terrible to hear. He was a good kid.”
“Yeah, yeah, he was,” Jake said.
“Weren’t you two pretty close?” Ken asked.
“We were, yeah. I talked to him the night it happened. He had been here shopping for a new board.”
“He was here?’
“Yeah. I was with my Dad at the movies, so I missed all his texts and pictures. He was really indecisive in picking out his new board. I kinda wished I hadn’t gone to the movies with my Dad,” Jake said solemnly. Jake opened his phone and made it a point to hide the recording microphone. He opened up the picture of the board that was the catalyst for everything terrible that had happened.
“Here’s the board he purchased. Pretty nice. I was hoping to see if you had any more like these. I trust his instincts, and he wouldn’t have bought a board if it wasn’t a nice setup.”
Jake watched Ken’s reaction as he showed him the photo. He could tell he knew something. He watched as Ken grew a little uncomfortable but tried to pretend like nothing was different.
“Oh, yeah. We had one of those boards. A new board maker I wanted to try out, um, they’re based out of Australia. They’re popular down there, so I thought I’d give them a try. Something to do with the rails and tail design with the uh, with the fin setup on the back,” Ken said as he wiped at the sweat forming on his forehead. He glanced around the shop, watching as Allie attended to other customers coming and going out of the store.
“Are you supposed to get any more? I’d love to try one out.”
“I’d have to check inventory shipments. I, uh, they’re in high demand right now. But you know, I can run and pull it up on the computer in the office. I’ll go take a look and see if we have more available on order.”
“Awesome. Thanks, Ken. Appreciate it. I’ll just keep looking around,” Jake said with a smile.
“Ken disappeared into the back of the store. Jake made sure he was gone before pulling out his phone. He texted his Dad – KEN KNOWS SOMETHING. HIS BODY LANGUAGE GAVE HIM AWAY!
In the back room, Ken pulled out his phone and called Jose.
“We have problems. A local kid and his Dad who’s an investigator, are digging around and sticking their nose in. The kid you killed was his friend. He also said the police were involved. Look, before we do the exchange and the drop and get the bank, you might need to take care of this kid and his father. Or at least scare them off the path.”
Ken listened for a moment while Jose peppered him with questions. He was becoming agitated.
“Look, you messed this up. You need to clean this up or come up with a solution and fast. Okay, I’ll keep him here until you can get here to the mall. How long? Okay good. Once you get here, look for a big orange SUV. You can’t miss it. Bright orange. The kid is tall, blonde, and in a blue shirt and white shorts. Follow him and do whatever you need to do at this point,” Ken snarled and hung up.
Jake was still looking at the surfboards as Ken returned to the board rack on the rear wall.
“Any luck?” Jake asked excitedly.
“As a matter of fact, yes. Called my seller in Australia, and he said he’d have some ready to ship by next week,” Ken lied.
Jake again paid attention to his body language. Ken had a tough time looking Jake in the eye and maintaining eye contact. He continued to sweat and move nervously, failing to stand still. Jake knew something was wrong but felt it was best not to push it too much further but chose to ask one more question.
“Oh, Ken, could you give me the brand name? Or do you have any of their shirts?
Jake asked, even though he knew the answer. He was having fun, watching Ken squirm. Jake was enjoying the fact that the conversation was making Ken uncomfortable. Jake didn’t know how or when, but he knew Ken would pay for his crimes at some point in the future.
“Um, the brand is Stralia, you know, kind of how they talk funny. Lightning Bolt for the S, like the old Gerry Lopez boards,” Ken said somewhat nervously. Jake could tell he was getting more uncomfortable by the minute.
“I’ll have to bring my Dad back with me to check out the boards to see what he thinks. This was his idea. I think he’s trying to be better about things since mom passed.” Ken nodded nervously.
“Sure, that, uh, makes sense, Jake. Probably difficult for both of you at this point. And again, I’m, uh, you know, sorry about the whole losing your mother thing.”
“No worries,” Jake said with a smile. Jake pulled out his phone and glanced to check and make sure it was still recording. “Oh, there’s my Dad now,” he said, reading the text – OK, WE KNOW HE KNOWS, SO GET OUT OF THERE.
“Well, Ken, great to catch up with you. Excited to get a new board. I’ll stop back by late next week.”
“Oh, hey, Jake, before you go, uh, you want a shirt or something? It’s on me.”
Jake shook his head, smiled, waved, and headed toward the store’s exit. Ken’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at a picture of a big orange Blazer in the parking lot. He sent off a one-word reply – YES.