Page 12 of Mai Tais and Murder

“Of course,” Mel agreed. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one morning.”

As they waded out of the water, Helen couldn’t help but feel a mix of frustration and gratitude. Frustration at her own fear, but immense gratitude for Mel’s unwavering support. The sand was hot under their feet as they gathered their gear. “You did really well, you know,” Mel said as they started toward their apartment. “Before the shadow thing, you were a natural.”

Helen squeezed water from her shoulder-length hair, touched by Mel’s encouragement. “Thank you for being so patient with me. Both with the snorkeling and my moment of panic.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the morning sun warming Helen’s shoulders. As they approached their building, Helen noticed a taxi pulling up to the entrance. A man stepped out. He was tall, pale, and wearing a dark suit that seemed completely at odds with the tropical setting. The man retrieved two large, black suitcases from the trunk, paid the driver, and disappeared into the lobby before they could get a good look at his face.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Helen said, knowing Mel would pick up on her meaning. “Not exactly standard resort wear.”

Mel nodded, her eyes fixed on the lobby doors. “And two large suitcases? Seemed like a lot for one person on a typical vacation.” She paused, then added with forced casualness. “You know, maybe we should take the stairs instead of the elevator. Get some exercise.”

Helen hid her smile, recognizing Mel’s transparent attempt to investigate. “Of course, dear. Though these wet flip-flops might make that a bit treacherous.”

They entered the open stairway and made it to the third floor just as they heard the elevator ding. From the steps, they watched the mysterious man exit, wheeling his luggage toward James Abramson’s end of the hallway. “Mel,” Helen whispered. “He’s heading in the direction of our mystery writer’s apartment.”

They waited a minute before emerging into the open hallway. The man and his luggage were nowhere in sight, but Helen hadn’t heard a door close, so he must have gone around the corner. “What should we do?” Helen asked, but Mel was already moving toward their apartment. “Follow and see where his room is?”

“No. I don’t want to risk being seen. Let’s get changed first,” Mel said, her voice low. “Then maybe we can take a walk, see if we notice anything interesting.”

As they entered their apartment, Helen felt a mix of excitement. She watched Mel move to the sliding glass doors, trying to catch a glimpse of any activity in their neighbor’s apartment. “Abramson at his desk,” Mel said.

Helen stepped closer, placing a hand on Mel’s shoulder. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“What’s that?”

“No more joking that we’re not investigating,” Helen said with a grim smile. “That man was definitely not a tourist. Something feels wrong.”

Mel turned to face her. “Are you sure you’re okay with that? We’re still on vacation…

“I’m sure,” Helen assured her. “Though perhaps we should change out of our wet swimsuits before we start playing detective.”

Mel smiled. “I love you,” she said simply.

“I love you too,” Helen replied. “Now, let’s get dried off. I have a feeling this vacation just got a lot more interesting.”

* * *

After changing into dry clothes,Mel stood at their sliding glass door, studying Abramson’s apartment while Helen finished getting ready in the bathroom. The writer was on his cell phone again, pacing and looking agitated. Her mind drifted to the pale man in the dark suit. It seemed like too much of a coincidence that he was staying at the same vacation complex Abramson was, but anything was possible. From Mel’s experience, based on his appearance, he could be anyone from a federal agent to hired muscle, but his bearing and those large, black suitcases pointed toward the latter.

“You’re doing that thing with your jaw again,” Helen said, emerging from the bathroom in fresh resort wear, her ash-blonde hair neatly combed. “The clenching thing.”

Mel consciously relaxed her jaw, turning to face her partner. “Just thinking. Not only was the man’s outfit not appropriate for a vacation in Hawaii, but the suit was expensive. If I had to guess, I’d say it was custom-tailored, probably Italian.”

“And all of that matters because...?” Helen prompted, though her slight smile suggested she already knew where Mel was going.

“Because he’s not here for a vacation. He’s here on business, but what kind is the question,” she answered. “I don’t think he’s a government agent because even undercover ones tend to wear off-the-rack suits. Budget constraints.” Mel moved away from the window, gathering her thoughts. “This guy’s suit screamed private sector. High-end private sector.”

Helen nodded, slipping her feet into comfortable sandals. “The kind of private sector that might be interested in whatever story our neighbor is working on?”

“Exactly.” Mel checked her watch. It was barely noon. “Want to take that walk now? Maybe past the front desk?”

“Let me guess,” Helen said. “To casually inquire about our new neighbor?”

Mel grinned. “The desk clerk seemed chatty when we checked in. Might be worth a conversation.”

They left their apartment, taking the elevator this time. Mel’s mind was already constructing questions that wouldn’t seem suspicious, ways to guide the conversation naturally toward their target. It felt good, familiar, like slipping back into a comfortable routine from her days with the LAPD.

Thankfully, the lobby was relatively quiet, with just a few guests milling about. The same young clerk from their check-in was behind the desk, his name tag identifying him as “Kai.” He looked up as they approached, offering a bright smile. “Good morning! How are you enjoying your stay?”

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