Page 37 of Mai Tais and Murder

Helen’s eyes widened. “And he did it when he knew we would be watching.”

“It’s perfect,” Mel said, warming to her theory. “He gets sympathy instead of suspicion. Nobody looks for a dead man.” She quickly typed another message to Mickey, asking for the flight number. Their taxi pulled up, the driver hopping out to help with their luggage. “Slight change of plans,” Mel told him. “Take us to the airport, but now we need to go to the international terminal.”

As they settled into the back seat, Helen took Mel’s hand. “Walk me through this,” she said. “How would it work?”

Mel squeezed her hand, grateful as always for Helen’s willingness to follow her instincts. “I have no idea when he planned it, but Abramson stages a scene where he appears to be attacked, expecting us to be witnesses.”

“But what about the pale man?” Helen asked though Mel could see she was already following the logic. “How does he fit in?”

“I’m not sure,” Mel answered. “Yet.” The taxi wound through Honolulu’s streets, palm trees and ocean views flashing past. Mel’s phone buzzed again. Mickey had sent the flight details.

“But why go through all this?” Helen asked. “Why not just leave?”

“Because someone powerful wants to stop his story,” Mel said. “Someone who would keep looking for him unless they thought he was dead.” She paused, remembering something. “Remember what Brigitte said? About her mother’s death?”

Helen nodded. “The car accident three years ago, when he was investigating college basketball.”

“What if it truly wasn’t an accident?” Mel said softly. “What if Abramson learned his lesson then? That these people would hurt his family to stop him. This way, Brigitte’s genuine reaction helps sell his disappearance, and she’s protected by his apparent death.” The airport appeared ahead, its control tower rising against the blue Hawaiian sky. Mel felt her pulse quicken. If she was right, Abramson would be there somewhere, preparing to board a flight to freedom while his explosive story circulated through Mickey’s dark web contacts.

“Should we try to stop him?” Helen asked as their taxi pulled up to the departures level.

Mel considered Helen’s words as they unloaded their luggage. “I’m not sure,” she said finally. “If I’m right, he did what he had to do to protect himself and his family while making sure the truth got out.” She smiled slightly. “Besides, we helped make that happen.” They rolled their bags toward the terminal entrance, the automatic doors whooshing open to release a blast of cool air. Mel scanned the crowd, looking for either Abramson or perhaps even the pale man. She still wasn’t clear on that connection.

Her detective instincts were humming now, telling her she was finally on the right track. “What do we do now?” Helen asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We wait,” Mel said, guiding them toward some seats near the Singapore Airlines check-in counter. “And we watch. If I’m right, we might see something interesting before we have to go to catch our own flight.”

Helen settled beside her, their shoulders touching. “You know what amazes me?” she said softly.

“What’s that?”

“How your mind works. How you put all these pieces together.” Helen’s brown eyes were warm with admiration. “I love watching you solve puzzles.”

Mel felt her face warm slightly. Even after six months together, Helen’s praise could still make her feel like a teenager with a crush. “Well,” she said. “We’re not sure I’m right yet.”

“Oh, I think you are,” Helen replied, gently squeezing her hand. “And even if you’re not, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here with you, waiting to find out.”

* * *

Helen’s heartskipped a beat when she spotted him. If she hadn’t spent days studying James Abramson from their balcony, she might have missed him entirely. The baseball cap and sunglasses were obvious disguises, plus he had dyed his hair brown, but it was his changed posture that truly transformed him. He had gone from nervous energy to purposeful movement. “Mel,” she whispered, touching her partner’s arm. “By the currency exchange. Baseball cap.”

Mel’s subtle nod told Helen she’d seen him too. “Yep,” she whispered back. “In a pretty decent disguise.” They watched as Abramson checked his phone, then headed toward a partially renovated section of the terminal. Construction barriers created a maze of temporary walkways, most passengers avoiding the area in favor of clearer paths.

He was about to disappear from view. “Should we follow him?” Helen asked though she was already starting to stand.

“Yes,” Mel replied, gathering their carry-on bags. “But carefully. If I’m right about him staging everything, he’s cleverer than we thought.”

They maintained a discrete distance, letting other travelers provide cover. The construction area was quieter, the sound of their rolling luggage seeming unnaturally loud against the temporary flooring. Abramson disappeared around a corner where plastic sheeting created a tunnel-like effect. When they rounded the same corner, he was waiting for them.

“I wondered if you’d figure it out,” he said, removing his sunglasses. “Though I admit, I didn’t expect it quite so soon.”

Helen felt Mel step slightly in front of her, always her protector. “It took me longer than it should have,” Mel said. “I should have been suspicious when everything seemed to happen so conveniently for us.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Abramson said. “I counted on you both being smart and clever, and luckily, you were.”

Narrowing her eyes, Helen studied the man. “I still don’t entirely understand,” she said. “Why the elaborate deception?”

Abramson nodded, glancing at his watch. “We don’t have much time,” he said. “But I admit I owe you an explanation.”

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