Page 21 of Mai Tais and Murder

“Well,” Robbins said, closing his notebook. “We’ll file a report, but without any signs of forced entry or struggle, we are done here.”

“Thank you, officers,” Brigitte said quickly. “I’m sure my father will turn up.” She pulled out her phone, frowning at the screen. “I should try calling him again.”

Helen felt Mel’s hand on her lower back, a gentle pressure guiding her away. The subliminal message was clear. They had pushed as far as they could for now. But as they turned to leave, Helen caught the expression on Brigitte’s face. Concern had vanished, replaced by something harder, more calculating. Helen leaned closer to Mel as they walked away, keeping her voice low. “She’s lying,” Helen whispered. “About something.”

“I know,” Mel murmured back. “Did you notice how quickly she tried to explain away what we saw?”

Helen nodded, then jumped slightly as Brigitte called to them down the hallway.

“Ms. Hardy, Ms. Nelson,” she said. “I apologize if I seemed dismissive. It’s just my father’s been under a lot of stress lately. Sometimes he doesn’t think clearly.”

“Of course,” Helen replied, forcing a small smile. “We understand. We just hope he’s safe.”

“I’m sure he is,” Brigitte said, her tone clearly dismissive. “Thank you for your concern.”

ChapterNine

Mel stood looking out their sliding glass door, watching Brigette Abramson enter her father’s office. After the police left and their dismissive response to what she and Helen had witnessed, Mel felt frustration building in her chest. She knew what they had seen. Someone attacked James Abramson. The fact that there was no evidence didn’t change that reality. “She went straight to his office,” Helen said quietly from beside her.

“I wonder how much she looked around the rest of the apartment,” Mel said. “Someone looking for a missing father would check everywhere.” She frowned. “I wonder what exactly she’s after.” As Mel focused on the scene across the courtyard, she saw Brigette ruffle through the papers on Abramson’s desk and then start on the drawers. Her movements grew increasingly aggressive as one of the drawers refused to yield.

“She’s getting frustrated,” Helen whispered, though there was no need for quiet across the distance.

Through the window, they watched as Brigette moved to the laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Trying passwords,” Mel assessed. “But not getting in, based on her expression.”

“Could she be trying to find evidence of what happened to him?” Helen asked, but her tone suggested she didn’t believe it herself.

“If that were true, she’d be more concerned about what we told the police about the attack,” Mel said. “Instead, she dismissed it as if she didn’t want the police to investigate further.” Mel’s jaw tightened as she remembered Brigette’s quick explanation of her father’s disappearance. “No, she’s looking for something specific. Something she doesn’t want anyone else to find.”

Brigette had returned to the drawer, this time with what appeared to be a kitchen knife. “She’s desperate,” Helen observed. “Whatever’s in that drawer, she wants it badly.”

“The question is why,” Mel said, her mind racing through possibilities. “We know she flew here specifically to stop him from publishing his story. Now he’s missing, and she’s breaking into his desk instead of looking for him.”

Helen’s grip on Mel’s arm tightened slightly. “You think she was involved? In what happened to him?”

“Hmm,” Mel hummed slowly. “I think that she guessed something was going to happen. Whether she was directly involved or just aware of the danger, I’m not sure yet.”

They watched as Brigette finally abandoned the drawer and returned to the laptop. After another frustrated attempt at the password, she unplugged it and slipped it into her designer handbag.

“She’s taking it,” Helen said, a note of alarm in her voice. “Shouldn’t we stop her?”

“We can’t,” Mel replied, though every instinct screamed at her to intervene. “It would be hard to dispute that she didn’t have her father’s permission. Besides...” She hesitated, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a worn leather wallet. “I may have acquired something during the police search.”

Helen’s eyes widened. “Mel Nelson, did you steal evidence?”

“I preserved evidence,” Mel said. “I saw it on the counter and knew the police wouldn’t take it seriously. If something happened to Abramson, there might be clues in here about why.”

Before Helen could respond, movement across the courtyard caught their attention. Brigette was leaving with the laptop in her bag. “What do we do now?” Helen asked once Brigette had disappeared from view. “We can’t really just let her walk away with potential evidence.”

Mel turned the wallet over in her hands, feeling the worn leather. “We have no choice,” she said. “But we might have something just as valuable. Help me go through this?”

They moved to the small dining table where Mel carefully emptied the wallet’s contents. Credit cards, a few crumpled receipts, and… “Hello,” Mel said softly, holding up a small key. “What do you want to bet this opens that drawer?”

Helen let out a long breath. “Oh, I think you’re right. But how do we get in to try it?” she asked, examining the key clutched in Mel’s fingers. “We can’t exactly break in, and the police won’t help us.”

“No,” Mel agreed, her mind already working on solutions. “But we might not need to break in. Remember, the resort has a cleaning service, and cleaning services have master keys.”

Helen’s eyes lit up with understanding. “We just need to figure out when they clean his room.”

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