Page 5 of Mai Tais and Murder

“Being neighborly,” Mel corrected with a smile Helen could hear in her voice. “With macadamia nuts.”

“Of course,” Helen agreed, snuggling closer. “Just being neighborly.” As she drifted toward sleep, Helen couldn’t help but wonder about tomorrow. Their peaceful vacation had taken an unexpected turn, but somehow, she wasn’t disappointed. Life with Mel was always an adventure, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The last thing she heard before sleep claimed her was Mel’s quiet voice. “Thank you for understanding me.” Helen squeezed her partner in response, knowing no words were necessary. They had found each other later in life, but that only made their connection more precious. Whatever mystery awaited them, they would face it together.

ChapterThree

Mel stood in the kitchen of their vacation apartment, measuring coffee beans with the precision of a chemist. The sun had barely risen, painting the sky in soft pinks visible through the open sliding glass doors. Palm fronds swayed lazily in the early morning breeze, casting dancing shadows across the balcony. Through the doors, the distant sound of waves breaking against the shore provided a gentle rhythm to the quiet morning. It was a perfect start to another day in paradise, and Mel loved it all.

She had always been an early riser. It was a habit from her detective days that refused to fade even in retirement. But now, instead of rushing to crime scenes, she spent her mornings perfecting her coffee technique. Today, though, it was her detective instincts that had her up especially early. She simply could not shake the uneasy feeling she had about the agitated neighbor across the courtyard. Pushing his unusual behavior from her mind again, she counted the seconds as the coffee grinder hummed quietly. Eighteen seconds exactly for the perfect coarse grind needed for the French press she had packed in her suitcase from the mainland. Helen often teased her about being a coffee snob, but Mel noticed she never complained about the results.

She gathered ingredients for two omelets. Eggs, cheese, and the fresh vegetables they had bought at the local market yesterday. Although she had always enjoyed grilling food, cooking was something she had discovered she enjoyed after retiring. It gave her the same satisfaction as solving a case. Following recipes, gathering ingredients, and creating something worthwhile ultimately made her happy.

“I smell coffee,” Helen said from the bedroom doorway. She padded into the kitchen wearing a light-yellow terryclothrobe, her hair charmingly mussed. “You’re up extra early.”

Mel’s heart did that familiar skip it always did when she saw Helen in the morning. It was like every day she was surprised at her good luck in finding the beautiful, cheerful woman. “Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, pouring hot water over the coffee grounds. “Thought I’d make us breakfast.”

Helen came up behind her, wrapping her arms around Mel’s ample waist and pressing a kiss between her shoulder blades. “You’re thinking about our neighbor, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Mel said, setting the timer for the French press. She turned in Helen’s embrace, taking in the warm brown eyes she had fallen for six months ago. “But I’m also thinking about making you the perfect omelet.”

“My hero,” Helen smiled and pecked Mel on the lips. “Though I notice you didn’t deny thinking about the neighbor.”

Mel chuckled before sliding away to open the refrigerator. “Would it do any good?”

“No,” Helen admitted, settling onto one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. “But I appreciate that you considered it.”

Mel moved with practiced efficiency as she sliced mushrooms for the omelet before moving on to cracking the eggs. “What kind of writer did you say he looked like?” Helen asked, watching Mel in action.

“I didn’t,” Mel replied, starting to whisk the eggs. “But based on his typing patterns and the way he kept checking over his shoulder, I’d guess something controversial. Maybe investigative journalism.”

Helen’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “And the red-haired woman who visited him?”

“Not a local. Someone he knew but not particularly friendly with because he didn’t relax. From the pantsuit, I’d guess she was there more for business than pleasure,” Mel said, then caught herself. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“Don’t apologize,” Helen said softly. “I love watching your mind work.”

The timer dinged, and Mel pushed down the French press plunger with careful force. She poured them each a cup, adding a touch of cream to Helen’s and leaving hers black. The familiar ritual grounded her, even as her mind wanted to race ahead with theories about their neighbor. “Perfect, as always,” Helen said after her first sip. “Though I still don’t understand how you can drink it black.”

“Years of bad precinct coffee,” Mel explained. “You either learn to drink it black or give up coffee altogether.” She set the bowl of eggs aside. “How about we enjoy this coffee on the balcony for a few minutes?”

Helen raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t want to do that to check on our neighbor, would you?”

“I plead the fifth,” Mel said, carrying her mug toward the sliding glass doors. As soon as she was outside, a movement caught her eye. Across the courtyard, the window blinds were open, and their neighbor was back at his desk. He looked even more of a mess than the night before. His typing seemed more frantic, his movements sharp and jerky.

“He’s back at it,” Helen observed as she joined her, following Mel’s gaze. “And he looks worse.”

Mel nodded. “No sleep, based on the way he’s moving. And he keeps checking his phone.”

“Waiting for something? Or afraid of something?”

“Could be both,” Mel said before taking a sip of her perfect coffee. “But we’re on vacation, so no mysteries, no investigations.”

Helen gave her a knowing look. “Says the woman who’s been analyzing his behavior in her head since she woke up.”

“I’m just curious by nature,” Mel said with a shrug.

“Mmhmm,” Helen hummed as she enjoyed her coffee. “And what time are we taking those macadamia nuts over?”

---