The Bomber’s bat

Another day at the agency for Jack and another case.

“I want to hire you,” said Jacob, the local baseball lover. 

These were rare in England, but Jacob lived and breathed baseball.

He explained his predicament.

“Ernie’s gone on vacation to New York,” he said. “He bet me that he could get a signed metal bat from Aaron Judge.”

“I bet my prized bat against his, there’s no way he’s gonna get that. But he did.”

Ernie was peacefully blackmailing a little kid when a hurricane of a Jack barged into his den.

Ernie looked up and said, “Make like an atom and split.”

Jack walked around the den and found a metal bat. 

“Nice bat,” he remarked, reaching to hold it up.

“Careful with that!” said a wary Ernie. “It was signed by Aaron Judge: It’s worth millions.”

Ernie showed him a letter. 

It wrote:

Dear Mr. Ernie,

Thank you for the lift. I was late for my practice with the Yanks and my car was getting fixed. I was stumped until you came along! That is the kindest thing that’s ever happened to me! Enclosed is my Aluminium bat.

Best Wishes,

Aaron Judge

“That was one of the best moments of my life,” boasted Ernie. “That’s not all that Bronx Bomber did for me. I was promised a bat. Where is it?”

“More like you promised Jacob a bat. Where is yours?”

How did Jack know?