Page 29 of Mai Tais and Murder

“Abramson was planning to run,” Mel finally said. “He withdrew a bunch of money and booked a flight to Singapore for tomorrow morning.”

“But something happened first,” Helen added softly.

“Yeah.” Mel took a sip of her cocktail, organizing her thoughts. “It’s interesting, but the man is deep in debt yet was able to withdraw ten thousand dollars from his bank account. He had to have received ten thousand dollars from someone.”

“Hush money?”

“Or funding his escape,” Mel replied. “My friend Mickey’s looking deeper. He’ll call back in an hour.”

Helen nodded, her expression thoughtful. “So either someone wanted to help him disappear...”

“Or wanted him to look like he disappeared voluntarily,” Mel finished. “The question is, did Brigitte know? Or Felicity?”

“The daughter and the agent,” Helen mused. “Both trying to control his story, but for different reasons?”

Mel let out a slow breath, her mind working. “Exactly. And now we have proof he was planning something.”

“But not proof of what happened to him.”

“No.” Mel’s hand found Helen’s under the table. They sat in thoughtful silence, the gentle splash of the garden’s fountain mixing with distant traffic sounds. The late afternoon sun filtered through palm fronds, creating shifting patterns on their table. In another context, it would have been perfectly peaceful.

“An hour,” Helen said finally. “What do we do until then?”

Mel considered their options. “We stay visible but vigilant. Order some lunch. Act like normal tourists.”

“Do you think someone might be watching for us?”

“I think the probability is low.” Mel managed a small smile. “But I can’t be one hundred percent sure.”

“So, we continue to be careful,” Helen said matter-of-factly. “And not let anyone figure out what we know.”

ChapterTwelve

After lunch, Helen walked with Mel along the now-familiar pathway to the resort. Her hand found Mel’s as they approached the entrance, seeking comfort in her partner’s steady presence. The manuscript’s revelations still churned in her mind. It was all she could do to grasp the detailed accounts of game fixing, the massive amounts of money involved, and the list of powerful people implicated. It felt surreal that their peaceful Hawaiian vacation had led them to uncover something so dark. “Are you sure about this?” Helen asked softly, entering the lobby. “Coming back here after what we found?”

Mel squeezed her hand. “I really think we are okay,” she answered. “No one should know who we are, and staying away from our apartment tonight might draw more attention.”

Nodding, Helen followed Mel’s lead. Suddenly, movement near the elevator caught Helen’s attention. The pale man in his dark suit emerged, walking with purpose toward the front desk. They watched from behind a large potted palm as the man approached the desk.

“Checking out,” the man said to Kai, his voice carrying across the quiet lobby. “Room 325.”

Helen felt her stomach clench. “Mel,” Helen whispered, tugging gently on her partner’s hand. “He stayed in the apartment next to Abramson’s…” Then her heart went cold as she realized something else. “His suitcases. Where are his suitcases?” The large, black suitcases he had arrived with were nowhere to be seen. She remembered how conspicuous they looked when he checked in. In an instant, the implications hit her like a physical blow. “Oh God.” Her grip tightened on Mel’s hand. “You don’t think...”

“Not here,” Mel murmured, though Helen felt tension radiating from the woman. They watched as the pale man completed his check-out, his movements efficient and unremarkable.

Nothing about him suggested he might have disposed of a body, but Helen’s mind couldn’t shake the horrible possibility. Only when he’d left the lobby did Helen release the breath she’d been holding.

“We should sit down,” Mel suggested, guiding her toward some chairs in a quiet corner. “You’re shaking.”

Helen sank into the chair, her legs suddenly weak. “Those suitcases,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “They were big enough, weren’t they? To... to...”

“Yes,” Mel confirmed grimly. “They were.”

The horror of it threatened to overwhelm her. Helen had read mystery novels, of course. She had even considered trying to write one. But this was real. This was happening, and they were somehow in the middle of it. “What do we do?” she asked, looking to Mel for guidance. “We can’t just let this go, but we fly home the day after tomorrow.”

Mel leaned forward, her voice low but intense. “We have the manuscript now,” she said. “We have proof of what Abramson uncovered. The question is, what’s the safest way to use it?”

“Safe for who?” Helen asked. “For us, or for justice?” The question hung between them as resort guests passed by, their vacation chatter creating a surreal backdrop to their grim conversation. Helen watched a family with young children check in, their excitement about their Hawaiian vacation painfully familiar. She had trouble believing it had really been less than a week since she and Mel had stood there themselves, thinking only of sunshine and romance.

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