Page 28 of Mai Tais and Murder

Clearly, she was having trouble hiding the concern she felt. “I had to lie to Diane,” Helen said softly. “I hate lying to my children.”

Mel squeezed her hand. “It’s for a good reason,” she said. “The less they know, the better at this point.”

Helen nodded but felt anxiety tighten in her stomach. “So, what next?”

“Let’s go to the bar where we had a drink last night,” she answered. “They have an outdoor courtyard where I think I can make this call without anyone hearing.” Mel’s face softened. “Are you ready?”

Straightening her shoulders, Helen put on a smile. “Ready. But Mel?”

“Yes?”

“When this is over, we’re taking a proper vacation. Somewhere with no mysteries to solve.”

Mel’s smile was warm despite the tension. “Deal,” she said. “Though with our luck, we’d probably stumble onto a mystery at a knitting retreat.”

* * *

The bar’sgarden seating provided decent cover while still allowing Mel to watch the street. As the reality of the possible danger started to sink in, she decided to be more careful. For starters, she positioned them in a corner where the dense tropical foliage created a natural screen. Helen had gone inside to order them Mai Tais, giving Mel privacy for this call. Her fingers hesitated over Mickey Chen’s contact information. During her LAPD days, Mickey had been her go-to person for digital forensics, though his methods weren’t always strictly by the book. That’s why she’d kept his number even after retiring. Sometimes you needed answers that wouldn’t come through official channels.

She pressed dial. Mickey answered on the second ring. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite retired detective,” he said, his familiar voice carrying a hint of amusement. “Don’t tell me you’re bored with the easy life already?”

“Hello, Mickey,” Mel said quietly. “I need a favor.”

“Of course you do. You never call just to chat.” She heard a keyboard clicking in the background. “So, what do you need to know?”

“I need information on someone. James Abramson. Sports journalist with the LA Times.”

More typing. “Interesting,” he said after a beat. “Seems your guy was a top reporter for a bit, then all but disappeared. What’d he do?”

“Maybe nothing,” Mel answered. “Maybe something. I need his financial records. Recent transactions, accounts, anything unusual.”

“You know that’s not exactly legal without a warrant.”

“Since when has that stopped you?”

Mickey’s laugh was warm with nostalgia. “God, I’ve missed you, Nelson. Give me a minute.” Mel waited, trying to control her impatience. Helen would be back any second and she wanted to be done with the conversation with Mickey if possible. The less the woman knew about Mel’s once darker ways, the better.

“Okay,” Mickey said. “Got something interesting here. Large cash withdrawal seven days ago. Ten thousand dollars.”

“Going on the run money,” Mel murmured.

“Maybe. He booked a ticket to Singapore three days ago. One way.”

Mel’s mind raced with implications. “Was it used?”

“Nope. Scheduled for tomorrow, actually.” More typing. “But another thing. Guy’s basically broke. Massive credit card debt, second mortgage on his house in LA, late payments on everything,” Mickey said. “I’m impressed he was able to get his hands on even ten-k.”

Helen appeared with their drinks, setting a Mai Tai in front of Mel. Her questioning look asked if it was okay to sit. After hesitating for a beat to consider what she wanted to say in front of Helen, Mel nodded. “Interesting,” Mel said into the phone. “And Mickey? Check his wife’s accident from three years ago. Something’s not right there.”

“I can do my best, but that might take longer,” Mickey said. “But more importantly, how is retired life treating you?”

“I’m not exactly acting retired at the moment,” Mel replied, watching a resort shuttle bus stop across the street. “How long do you need?”

“Give me an hour. And Mel? Be careful. I don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re not protected by a badge anymore.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Mel said. “And thanks for the help.” She ended the call, wrapping both hands around her drink’s cool glass.

Helen touched her arm. “Well?” she asked, her eyes concerned.

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