Page 22 of Mai Tais and Murder

“Exactly.” Mel gathered the wallet’s contents, except for the key which she slipped into her pocket. “But first, we need to think about what Brigette’s actions tell us. She came here to stop her father from publishing something. Now he’s attacked, missing, and she’s more concerned with getting into his desk than finding him.”

“You really think she might have been involved in his disappearance?” Helen asked softly.

“There’s no way to know for sure,” Mel said. “But sometimes family ties aren’t as strong as other motivations. Money, fear, blackmail—any of those could make someone act against their father.”

Helen was quiet for a moment, processing. “The police won’t believe us without evidence.”

“No,” Mel agreed. “Which is why we need to find some. Whatever is in that drawer is important enough for Brigette to try breaking into it. Important enough to take the laptop.”

“And important enough for someone to attack James Abramson.”

Mel reached across the table, taking Helen’s hand. “We don’t have to do this,” she said. “We could walk away, finish our vacation, let the police handle it their way.”

Helen squeezed her hand. “I don’t think you could do that. Am I wrong?”

Mel paused, considering the question. “It would be difficult,” she finally admitted. “But I won’t put you in danger. This isn’t what you signed up for when we planned this vacation.”

“What I signed up for was being with you,” Helen said, a determined look in her eye. “And you’re a detective at heart, Mel Nelson. If that means helping solve a mystery instead of lounging on the beach, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Mel felt that familiar warmth that seemed to hit her daily since meeting Helen. “Have I told you lately how amazing you are?”

“Not in the last hour,” Helen said with a smile. “Now, shall we figure out when they will next clean the rooms on this floor?”

* * *

Helen watchedas Mel hung up the phone after speaking with the front desk. “We are in luck. The cleaning service does this floor tomorrow morning,” Mel reported, setting her phone down with a slight frown. “Between nine and eleven.”

“So we wait,” Helen said, trying to hide her relief at the delay. While she was committed to helping solve whatever had happened to James Abramson, part of her welcomed a brief respite from the mounting tension.

“We wait,” Mel agreed, running a hand through her hair. “Though I hate giving Brigette more time to cover her tracks.”

Helen stood from where she’d been perched on the edge of the apartment’s couch. “Then let’s get out of here for a while,” she suggested. “I know it’s getting late but maybe a stroll under the stars while we hear the ocean will help.”

Mel looked like she wanted to protest at first, but then she nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “Sitting here won’t make things happen faster.”

The stars were out as they made their way to the resort’s courtyard and toward the walkway that followed the beach. The night air was warm and sweet with plumeria, and tiki torches cast flickering light along the path. Under different circumstances, it would have been perfectly romantic. Helen felt Mel’s hand slip into hers, a gesture that had become as natural as breathing over their months together.

“What are you thinking?” Helen asked, noting the distant look in Mel’s eyes.

“Just trying to piece it all together,” Mel replied. “The pale man in the suit, Brigette’s behavior, that literary agent Felicity...” She shook her head. “There are too many players, too many possible motives.”

They reached a small cluster of restaurants near the beach. The sounds of live Hawaiian music drifted from one establishment while the smell of grilled fish wafted from another. “Let’s get something to drink,” Helen suggested, pointing to a quieter spot with ocean views. “Somewhere we can talk without shouting.”

The hostess led them to a corner table on the outdoor terrace, where strings of lights created a soft glow above them. The ocean stretched dark and endless beyond the railing, its waves providing a soothing backdrop. “You know what bothers me most?” Mel said after they’d ordered a pair of Mai Tais. “The way Brigette didn’t even pretend to be worried about her father. It was all about getting into that drawer and accessing his laptop.”

Helen nodded, thinking back to their observations. “Like she already knew what had happened to him?”

“Maybe.” Mel’s fingers drummed lightly on the table. “And then she searched his office.”

“Because there’s something in there she really wants,” Helen said. Their drinks arrived. Helen took a sip, letting the cool, fruity cocktail calm her nerves. “The question is, what could be so important?”

Mel’s expression grew thoughtful. “Remember what we found out about his past? The story he was working on when his wife died?”

“The college basketball scandal,” Helen said. “The one that never got published.”

“What if this is connected? What if he finally found proof of something bigger?”

Helen’s eyes widened. “Big enough to kill him for?”

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