Page 17 of Mai Tais and Murder

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Standing in Mel’s arms,Helen watched through the sliding glass doors as the last rays of sunlight painted Abramson’s apartment in deep shadows. His desk lamp created a harsh circle of light around him, making him look isolated and vulnerable. Despite Mel’s earlier assurance about being just observers, when Helen glanced at her, she knew her partner well enough to recognize the familiar signs of her detective mind working overtime. “You should see your face right now,” Helen said softly. “And I can practically hear the gears turning.”

Mel’s arms tightened slightly around her waist. “Is it that obvious?”

“Perhaps only to someone who loves you,” Helen replied. “Want to share what you’re thinking?” Before Mel could answer, Helen’s phone buzzed in her pocket. When she fished it out, the screen showed her youngest daughter calling. “I want to take this,” Helen said to Mel, already stepping away.

“Of course,” Mel said a moment before Helen answered.

“Hi, sweetheart.” She opened the sliding glass doors to sit on one of the chairs on their small balcony.

“Mom. Diane told me about your mysterious neighbor,” Jenny said without preamble. “Please tell me you’re not actually investigating something on your vacation.”

With a small sigh, Helen tried to keep her voice light. “We’re not investigating anything, dear. We’re just being observant neighbors.”

“Uh-huh,” Jenny’s skepticism carried clearly through the phone. “And I suppose you being partnered with a retired detective has nothing to do with this ‘observation’?”

“Jenny,” Helen said, reminding herself her daughters only meant well. “Everything’s fine. We’re having a wonderful vacation. The weather’s perfect, the ocean’s beautiful—”

“Diane’s worried about you, you know,” Jenny interrupted. “We both are.”

Helen rubbed her temple, watching Abramson make another frantic phone call, his gestures sharp with anxiety. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m perfectly safe. Mel would never let anything happen to me.”

“That’s not—” Jenny paused, and Helen pictured her frustrated daughter running a hand through her hair, a gesture she’d had since childhood. “Mom, you’re supposed to be relaxing, not getting involved in whatever this is.”

“We’re not involved,” Helen insisted, though even she had to admit it was becoming less true by the moment. “We just happened to notice some odd behavior, that’s all.”

“From your neighbor who is acting weird,” Jenny said a little sharply. “Because that’s totally normal vacation stuff.”

“Jenny, sweetheart,” Helen said, taking on a more parental tone. “I promise we’re being careful. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Mom,” Jenny’s voice softened. “I know you’re capable of making your own decisions. And I know Mel will protect you. Just be careful, okay? Both of you.”

“We will,” Helen promised. “I love you, sweetheart.”

After ending the call, Helen leaned back against the patio chair cushions, letting out a long breath. “Children,” she muttered as Mel joined her on the balcony and sat in the chair beside her.

“Everything okay?” Mel asked. “Is Jenny threatening to put you under surveillance?”

Helen laughed. “Nothing that drastic,” she said. “But she and Diane are worried.” She watched Abramson pace in his apartment. “What do you really think is going on, Mel? With him, his daughter, and that agent?”

Mel was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “I think Felicity Coedy has only her interests at heart. I didn’t get a sense she cared much about her client’s wellbeing.”

“She acted like someone used to getting her way, that’s for sure,” Helen added. “And whatever James is writing, it’s hot stuff.”

“Exactly,” Mel said. “I think whatever story he’s writing, it’s dangerous enough to attract a lot of attention.” She frowned. “The kind that makes a successful journalist look over his shoulder and jump at shadows.”

The night air had grown cooler, and Helen pulled her legs under her. “Should we be worried?”

“About Abramson? Maybe.” Mel slid an arm along the back of Helen’s chair and wrapped it around her. “About us? No. We’re just tourists who happened to notice some strange behavior. That’s it.”

But even as she said it, Helen sensed the tension in Mel’s body, the way her eyes kept tracking movement in Abramson’s apartment. She knew they were past the point of being casual observers.

* * *

As Mel satwith Helen on the balcony, she found herself analyzing every detail of their elevator encounter. Something about Felicity Coedy’s intensity toward Abramson nagged at her. One question she had was why she would be in Hawaii anyway. It seemed excessive, but a lot of what they had witnessed so far seemed off.

“I can hear you thinking,” Helen murmured against her shoulder.

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