Page 3 of Mai Tais and Murder

Movement in the apartment across the courtyard caught Helen’s attention. Through sliding glass doors off his balcony, she saw a man sitting at a desk, typing furiously at his computer. The warm glow from his desk lamp illuminated a cluttered workspace, papers scattered across the surface. The reading glasses the man wore caught the light as he moved, creating brief flashes that drew the eye. Something about him seemed off. “Mel,” Helen said, nodding toward the apartment. “Look at that man. Does something seem strange to you?”

Mel followed her gaze, and Helen could practically see the detective instincts kick in. The way Mel’s posture straightened slightly, how her blue eyes narrowed with focus. “Yep. He seems agitated,” Mel answered before taking a sip of her wine. “See how he keeps looking for something on his desk? And his typing is erratic. Lots of stopping and starting.”

Helen nodded, finding herself drawn into watching the man. “Should we be concerned?”

“Probably nothing,” Mel said, but Helen noticed she didn’t look away from the neighbor’s apartment. “Could be on a deadline. Could be having an argument with someone online. Could be…”

“Could be something more serious?” Helen finished, raising an eyebrow.

Mel chuckled, finally turning back to Helen. “Sorry. Old habits die hard. We’re on vacation, remember? No mysteries, no investigations, just relaxation and romance.”

As if to emphasize her point, Mel lifted her wine glass in a toast. “To vacation?”

“To vacation,” Helen agreed, clinking her glass against Mel’s. But even as they sipped their wine and tried to return to their peaceful evening, Helen noticed Mel glancing at the neighbor’s window. She couldn’t blame her. There was something compelling about the man’s obvious distress.

“You know,” Helen said. “Just because we’re on vacation doesn’t mean we have to ignore it if something seems wrong.”

Mel’s expression softened. “You’re enabling my worst habits, you know that?”

“I prefer to think of it as supporting your natural talents,” Helen replied with a smile. “Besides, what’s the harm in being observant?” A particularly aggressive burst of typing from the neighbor made them both look over again. The man ran his hands through his gray hair in what appeared to be frustration, then resumed typing with renewed intensity.

“Well,” Mel said, settling back in her chair. “If we’re just being observant, I’d say he’s either writing something very important or very controversial. Maybe both.”

Helen watched as the man abruptly stood, paced a few steps out of sight, andthen returned to his computer. “He certainly seems invested in whatever it is.”

The sky had deepened to purple now, the last rays of sun painting the clouds in brilliant gold. The neighbor’s apartment was more visible in the growing darkness, his desk lamp creating a bright window into his world. Helen found herself wondering about his storyand what could have him so worked up on what should have been a peaceful Hawaiian evening.

“Remember,” Mel said, reaching for Helen’s hand again. “We’re here to relax. No getting involved in other people’s drama.”

Helen squeezed Mel’s hand, noting the contradiction between her words and the way she continued to watch the neighbor. “Of course not,” she agreed, hiding her smile behind her wine glass. “We’re just two people enjoying the sunset. Nothing more.”

* * *

Despite her bestefforts to focus on the peaceful evening and Helen’s company, Mel found her attention repeatedly drawn to their neighbor’s increasingly erratic behavior. Years of detective work had honed her instincts, and right now, they were humming with familiar tension. The man appeared to have started muttering to himself, not audible through the glass but visible in the way his lips moved rapidly between bursts of typing. “You’re doing that thing with your jaw,” Helen observed softly, her thumb still tracing gentle circles on Mel’s hand.

“What thing?”

“That clenching thing you do when you’re analyzing a situation.” Helen’s voice held equal parts amusement and concern. “The same look you had when you thought the valet at the airport was suspicious.”

“He was suspicious,” Mel said. “No valet should be that interested in people’s luggage tags.”

A sudden movement drew her attention back to their neighbor. He had answered his cell phone, his free hand gesturing animatedly as he spoke. Even from their balcony, Mel read the tension in his shoulders, the defensive posture as he half-turned away from his sliding glass doors. “I wish I could read lips,” Mel muttered.

Helen chuckled. “Now who’s enabling whom?”

Before Mel could respond, their neighbor slammed his cell phone down on the desk and returned to typing as crazy as before. “That’s not normal behavior for someone writing a grocery list,” Mel said, trying to add a little humor to what was starting to feel like a tense situation. “Look at how he’s started checking his phone like he’s waiting for something specific.”

The ocean breeze had picked up, carrying with it the sweet scent of plumeria from the gardens below. Palm fronds rustled, creating moving shadows across their neighbor’s apartment. The man jumped at a particularly loud rustle, his head snapping around to look behind him. Mel shook her head. “I think he’s scared of something. Not just nervous or anxious. He’s genuinely afraid of something.”

Helen shifted in her chair. “Should we report it?”

“To whom? And for what?” Mel sighed, running a hand through her short battleship-gray hair. “Being agitated in your own apartment isn’t a crime. He could just be an anxious guy.”

Their neighbor had started pacing. He took a few steps out of sight, then back to his desk with his phonepressed to his ear again. He kept nodding while making quick notes on a pad beside his computer.

“You know,” Helen said thoughtfully. “We could always introduce ourselves tomorrow. Bring over some of those chocolate macadamia nuts we bought. As a neighborly gift.”

Mel turned to look at her partner, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Now who’s the detective?”

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