Page 35 of Mai Tais and Murder

“I can’t... these people, they’re not the kind you cross.” She met Mel’s eyes. “But I swear I didn’t hurt my father. I would never. I was trying to protect him.”

Helen leaned forward. “Protect him from what?”

“From the truth about what would happen if he published.” Brigitte’s voice dropped. “They offered me a lot of money to convince him to drop it. Said it would be better for everyone. I thought I could make him understand the danger he was in. Danger like what happened to Mom.”

Mel exchanged a quick look with Helen. “These people who hired you, do you think they know about Singapore?”

Brigitte shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “But who knows? When he told me about it right before he disappeared, I realized he was more scared than I thought.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “I should have helped him leave instead of trying to stop him.”

“What about Felicity?” Helen asked. “Do you really think she was involved?”

“Felicity? No.” Brigitte’s laugh was bitter this time. “Especially not after talking to her. She’s ambitious and ruthless in her own way, but she’s not stupid. This book was going to make her career. A tell-all about corruption in the sports industry? With hard evidence? She stood to make millions.” She shook her head. “She wouldn’t risk losing that payday.”

Mel leaned back, processing this new information. A group of intoxicated tourists coming back from a nearby bar walked past, their laughter jarring against the tension of the moment. Mel waited until they passed before asking her next question. “Have you ever seen a pale man, tall and dressed in a suit?”

The color drained from Brigitte’s face. “Last week. Outside my apartment,” she said. “I didn’t think much about it.” Her voice cracked. “Oh god, did he...?”

“We don’t know yet,” Helen said quickly, shooting Mel a warning look. “But any information you can give us about who hired you could help us find your father.”

Brigitte glanced around again, her fear palpable now. “I never met them directly. Everything was through encrypted messages and cash drops. But...” she hesitated, then reached for her phone. “I saved screenshots of everything. I was worried they might try to double-cross me.”

Mel felt her pulse quicken as Brigitte pulled up the messages. Finally, something concrete to work with. But as she reached for the phone, a sharp ringtone cut through the air. Brigitte looked at the screen and went pale. “I have to go,” she said, jumping up. “They’re watching. They’ll know I talked to you.”

“Wait,” Mel started, but Brigitte was already hurrying away, her heels clicking rapidly on the stone path.

“Should we follow her?” Helen asked. Mel shook her head slowly. “No. She’s spooked now. But she gave us something valuable. She confirmed what we thought; that there’s a bigger player involved. Someone with enough resources for surveillance, encrypted communications, and professional muscle.”

“But we still don’t know what they knew about Singapore,” Helen added.

“You’re right,” Mel said as she stood, her mind already mapping out their next moves. “We need to find out who had access to his travel plans. Someone knew he was planning to run.” Mel hated her next thought, but in her gut, she believed it was true. “And they moved before he could.”

* * *

As the timeon her cell phone revealed it was already past midnight, Helen watched as Mel paced, the woman’s mind clearly racing through possibilities. After their conversation with Brigitte, they decided to move again to a different hotel. Now, surrounded by cheap, generic hotel furniture instead of their cheerful vacation apartment, Helen felt the full weight of their situation.

“I think we were right about organized crime. It has to be someone with serious resources,” Mel said, more to herself than Helen. “Someone who could afford professional surveillance, a fixer, and enough influence to make Brigitte afraid to name names.”

Helen sat on the edge of the bed, her tablet open to Abramson’s manuscript. “The book mentions several major sports franchises,” she said. “Any one of them would have the money to secure those kinds of resources.”

Mel stopped pacing, turning to face Helen with that familiar look of determination. “We need to get this information out there,” she said. “Before whoever’s behind this confirms that we have it.”

“But how?” Helen asked. “The police won’t help, and we can’t exactly walk into a newspaper office.”

A slight smile crossed Mel’s face. “No, but I might know someone who can help.” She pulled out her phone. Helen watched as Mel scrolled through her contacts, finally selecting one. “I can call my contact in LA again. Mickey.” Knowing Helen could help more if she listened in, Mel put it on speakerphone.

“Twice in two days? I’m honored,” Mickey said. “What’s up, Nelson?”

“First, you’re on speakerphone,” Mel said. “My partner, Helen, is here with me, but no one else.”

There was a pause on the phone. “Okay,” Mickey finally said. “I’m going to go out on real limb here and trust you. Talk to me.”

“Thank you. Mickey, we need your help,” Mel said, sitting beside Helen on the bed. “Remember that background check you ran on Abramson? Well, we’ve got his story, and it needs to get out. But it needs to be untraceable.”

There was another pause on the other end. “How hot is this story?”

“Hot enough that someone’s willing to kill for it,” Mel replied grimly. “We need it released through channels that can’t be traced back to us or Abramson’s family.”

Helen listened as Mickey whistled low. “That’s not exactly easy nowadays, you know.”

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