later on.”
Kevin’s major passion these days was surfing the big waves. He supported his habit by crafting primo handmade surfboards. It had been his idea for Jake to paint the torn-up boards that they found.
“How was your day, chere?” Santou politely inquired.
I didn’t dare tell them about my disastrous surf lesson. Not unless I wanted to become the butt of one of Kevin’s running jokes.
“Same old, same old,” I blithely responded. “I spent the time catching up on paperwork.”
“Oh yeah? Then you must have had one hell of a big pile. Are you certain that it was really paperwork you were doing?” Kevin casually questioned.
I nailed him with a sidelong glance.
Kevin’s girlfriend had cheated on him. It wasn’t terribly difficult to understand why. As a result, he was now suspicious of every woman he met. I also didn’t know howmuch Santou had told him about our own past problems. It was at times like this I wondered if Kevin was trying to drive a wedge between Jake and myself.
“I took a drive up along Tantalus after sunset,” I replied, casting him an icy glare. “It seems some joker is running around the area passing himself off as a Fish and Wildlife agent.”
“Why in the world would he want to do that?” Jake asked in surprise.
I was unsure from his tone whether to take it as an innocent question or an insult.
“In order to gain access to private property. I imagine from there he’s heading back into the rain forest and collecting illegal reptiles at night,” I replied.
“What in hell for?” Jake continued.
“My guess is he’s probably selling them. I have a hunch that reptiles are being smuggled and released in the wild to colonize and breed. After that, their offspring are most likely gathered and pipelined to dealers on the mainland where they’re sold for big bucks.”
“In other words, some lowlives are treating Hawaii as their own private terrarium,” Kevin summed up.
“Exactly,” I agreed.
I’d once heard that everything grows like gangbusters in this place. All one had to do was plant an item, count to ten, and jump out of the way.
“Personally, I think that’s pretty damn clever of them,” Kevin added with a smirk.
“Why am I not surprised by that?” I shot back.
“Now, now, children, let’s play nice,” Santou intervened, having become used to our rivalry. “So chere, did you catch anyone?”
“I spotted a kid with blond Rasta braids and Maori tattoos, but he got away,” I grudgingly admitted. “However, he did leave a few things behind. I managed to get myhands on his skateboard and two bags of protected reptiles, a pair of which originally came from Egypt.”
“Sounds like white surfer trash to me,” Kevin mused, taking another sip of his beer.
“What makes you say that?” I asked, figuring any information would be worthwhile.
Kevin blinked, as if in silent acknowledgement. “Let’s just say it has to do with the Rasta braids and tattoos. My money’s on a punk that’s drifting between trying to be Bob Marley and going native. Then there’s the skateboard, of course. That’s always a dead giveaway.”
There it was: the smarmy undertone that made me want to slap him. Instead I bit my tongue, aware that Kevin tended to be right on the mark.
“It’s probably one of those little surfer wannabes who dreams of getting in tight with the big boys and riding the monster waves up here,” he concluded.
“You’re talking about the kids that are continually breaking into cars and stealing what they can to support their surf habit?” I tried to clarify.
“Yeah. That, and to buy drugs. You’ve seen them around. They’re the scumbags that skateboard all over town when the waves aren’t up. You know. The ones who smoke crack when they have the money and huff glue when they don’t. Their sole means of support seems to be committing all the petty crimes in the area.”
See, that was the thing. I couldn’t imagine kids like that
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley