Page 36 of Mai Tais and Murder

“I know, but that’s what I need,” Mel said. “Can you help or not?”

Mickey sighed. “Send me what you’ve got,” he answered. “I know some people who know some people. Dark web journalists who specialize in exposing corruption. They can verify and release it without compromising sources.” Helen felt a mix of relief and anxiety at the man’s answer. What they were doing was far beyond anything she’d ever imagined, yet somehow it felt right. Necessary. “I’ll need to encrypt everything before you send it,” Mickey continued. “Give me an hour to set up a secure channel. And Mel? Be careful. If you’re right about this, people who kill to keep secrets tend to keep killing.”

After ending the call, Mel turned to Helen. “This is going to happen. You’re still one hundred percent sure?” she asked softly.

Helen reached for Mel’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I am,” she said. “We’re just helping the truth come out. Besides, it feels right. James Abramson wanted this story told.”

They spent the next hour preparing the files to send to Mickey. The manuscript, the video confessions, everything they’d found on the thumb drive. “Mickey’s good at what he does,” Mel said as they waited for his signal to upload the information. “He helped me crack some tough cases back in the day. And although I’m not proud of it, things did not always go through official channels.”

Helen nodded. “Sometimes we do what have to do. I’m sure that came in handy sometimes,” she said. “And these people he knows, will they be careful with the information?”

“They’ll verify everything before releasing it,” Mel assured her. “And they’ll protect their sources. It’s what they do.” The phone buzzed. It was a text from Mickey. He had sent the upload instructions.

Helen carefully followed each step, her hands steady despite the stakes. Finally, she set down the tablet. “It’s done.”

“Mickey will let us know when it’s been passed along securely.”

Helen felt a curious mix of relief and tension. “What do we do now?”

Mel checked her watch. “Now we lay low, and we wait.”

The hotel room felt smaller suddenly. Helen moved to the window, looking out at the tourist crowds below. Somewhere out there, a pale man in an expensive suit might be looking for them. The thought sent a chill down her spine.

“Hey,” Mel said softly, coming up behind her. “We’ll be okay. Our flight’s in the morning. Once the story starts circulating, we’ll be long gone.”

Helen leaned back against her partner, drawing comfort from her solid presence. “I know,” she said. “I just keep thinking about James. About what might have happened to him.”

“Me too,” Mel admitted. “But this is what he would have wanted. He knew the truth needed to come out.” Helen found herself watching the shadows, wondering what would happen next. Mel kissed the back of her neck. “We should get some rest. It’s a long ride home.”

Helen nodded, but she knew sleep wouldn’t come easily. Not with everything they had learned, everything they’d done. But as she felt Mel beside her, she knew they had made the right choice.

ChapterFifteen

Mel stood in the lobby of the cheap hotel, barely listening as Helen handled their checkout. Her mind kept circling back to their failure to solve Abramson’s disappearance. Something nagged at her. It felt like there was a detail she was missing, a connection she hadn’t made. The morning sunlight streamed through the lobby’s windows, catching dust motes in golden beams that seemed to mock her inability to see what was right in front of her.

“The taxi should be here in about ten minutes,” Helen said, touching Mel’s arm gently. “Are you all right? You’ve been quiet all morning.”

Mel managed a weak smile. “Just frustrated,” she admitted. “Thirty years of solving cases, and this one...” She shook her head. “I feel like we have all the clues, but something doesn’t add up.” They moved their luggage outside to wait in the warm Hawaiian morning. Palm trees swayed in the breeze, their fronds casting shifting shadows across the hotel’s entrance. A young couple emerged with matching floral leis, clearly just starting their vacation, while Mel and Helen’s was ending in uncertainty.

Suddenly, Mel straightened. “Rear Window,” she said, more to herself than Helen.

Helen blinked, clearly confused. “Rear window?”

Slowly, everything seemed to fall into place. “Yes,” she said. “Have you ever seen the old Hitchcock movie with Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly?”

Nodding, Helen still looked puzzled. “Yes, of course,” she said. “Jimmy Stewart in a wheelchair with a broken leg, watching his neighbors out the window all day. I remember it being quite the dramatic mystery, trying to figure out if his neighbor murdered his wife.” She shook her head. “But why are you bringing it up—” Suddenly, she stopped, and Mel could see the woman’s mind working out the answer. “You don’t think…”

“I do,” Mel said, reaching for her phone. “We need to find out when Abramson is supposed to be leaving. Mickey said Abramson had booked a flight to Singapore for today.” Her fingers flew across the phone’s screen, typing a quick message to her old friend. “But I never asked what time.”

Helen moved closer, lowering her voice. “What do you intend to do?”

“I don’t know yet.” Mel’s mind raced, connecting fragments of information they had gathered over the past few days. Abramson always leaving the blinds open as if he wanted them to see him. The mysterious “find the story” statement he made to Mel. The lack of any signs of forced entry or struggle in the apartment. The way the wallet was left out in the open on the kitchen counter. Her phone buzzed. Mickey’s response was brief: “Flight leaves this morning. 11:45 A.M.”

Mel checked her watch. It was 8:30 A.M. “Helen,” she said slowly. “I have a crazy idea, but what if we are being used?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if Abramson staged his own murder?” The more Mel thought about it, the more it made sense. “Think about it. He needed to disappear, but in a way that would protect him from whoever he was exposing in his book.”

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