Page 33 of Mai Tais and Murder

Mel caught her hand as she passed, pulling her to a stop. “Helen, look at me.” When their eyes met, Mel’s expression was serious but tender. “If you want to walk away from this, we will. No questions asked. But remember that they killed Abramson over what’s on that drive. If we don’t do something with the information, his death means nothing.”

Helen sank back onto the bed beside Mel. “I know,” she said softly. “And I don’t want to walk away. I’m just scared.”

“Me too,” Mel admitted, wrapping an arm around her. “But we have options. We have a copy of everything, remember? And I’m calling that detective again. Maybe when he sees our apartment and hears about that phone call, he will listen to us.”

* * *

“Are you sure about this?”Helen asked as they rode in a taxi back to the resort. “Going back there?”

Mel squeezed her hand. “We need Detective Kanahele to see the evidence of the break-in while it’s fresh,” she said. “And having official documentation of the intrusion could help protect us later.” The resort’s familiar facade came into view. Detective Kanahele was waiting in the lobby with two uniformed officers, his earlier dismissive attitude replaced with something more professional. “Ms. Nelson, Ms. Hardy,” he greeted them. “Show me what you found.” As they led the officers up to their apartment, Mel noted how Helen stayed close to her side.

Their door still showed the subtle signs of entry that Mel had noticed earlier. “Here,” Mel said, pointing to the marks around the lock. “Someone used tools to get in.” The detective examined the door frame carefully while one of the officers took photos. Inside, Mel walked them through the systematic way the apartment had been searched. “Whoever did this knew what they were looking for. They were thorough but careful not to leave obvious signs of disturbance.”

“And you believe this is connected to your neighbor’s disappearance?” Detective Kanahele asked, making notes in his small pad.

“Yes,” Mel said firmly. “We saw him being attacked, and now our apartment is searched. That’s not a coincidence.”

The detective’s expression remained neutral. “Tell me your theory, Ms. Nelson,” he said. “Former detective to current detective.”

Mel chose her words carefully, aware of how much to reveal. “James Abramson was an investigative journalist working on a story about sports corruption. His daughter flew out to try to stop him from publishing. His literary agent showed up to pressure him about deadlines. Then a man in an expensive suit arrives, Abramson disappears, and our apartment gets searched by professionals.”

“You think he uncovered something big enough to kill for,” the detective said, but it was not quite a question.

“I think he had proof of something that powerful people wanted to keep quiet,” Mel replied. “And now those same people think we have whatever evidence he collected.”

Helen stepped forward. “We just received a threatening phone call,” she added. “They know we are staying somewhere else. They’re watching us.”

The detective frowned. “A threat? Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because we needed you to see this first,” Mel explained, gesturing to the apartment. “To understand that these aren’t just random events or an old lady’s imagination.”

Detective Kanahele walked to the sliding glass doors, looking across at Abramson’s apartment. “You said you witnessed the attack from here?”

“Yes,” Helen confirmed. “We saw someone in dark clothes hit him from behind while he was at his desk.”

“But the investigating officers found no evidence of an assault,” the detective reminded them.

“The attacker may have cleaned up any sign,” Mel said. “These people know what they’re doing.”

The detective was quiet for a moment, processing. “I’ll have officers dust for prints,” he finally said. “And I’ll put in a request for the resort’s security footage, but I can’t promise we’ll find anything useful.”

“So you believe us now?” Helen asked.

“Let’s say I’m taking your concerns more seriously,” he replied. “A break-in and a threatening phone call changes things.” He turned to Mel. “You said Abramson was investigating sports corruption?”

Mel nodded, careful not to mention the thumb drive or manuscript. “Based on his background and what we overheard. He seemed scared but determined to publish something big.”

The detective closed his notebook. “And now he’s missing, and you’re being threatened,” he said. “I’ll assign officers to patrol the area tonight. Do you have somewhere safe to stay?”

“Yes,” Mel said, not offering details. “We’ve taken precautions.”

Detective Kanahele nodded approvingly. “Good. I’ll need a statement about the phone call, and then I suggest you both lay low until you are on your way home.”

Mel held the man’s eye. “We can do that.”

“We’ll be in touch,” the detective said as they prepared to leave. “And Ms. Nelson? Current detective to former detective. If this really is what you think, watch your back. People willing to make someone disappear rarely stop at one victim.”

The warning sent a chill down Mel’s spine, not for herself but for Helen. She’d dragged the woman she loved into something dangerous, and now they had less than twenty-four hours to figure out what to do with the evidence they had.

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