Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
M el stood looking out their sliding glass door, watching Brigette Abramson enter her father’s office. After the police left and their dismissive response to what she and Helen had witnessed, Mel felt frustration building in her chest. She knew what they had seen. Someone attacked James Abramson. The fact that there was no evidence didn’t change that reality. “She went straight to his office,” Helen said quietly from beside her.
“I wonder how much she looked around the rest of the apartment,” Mel said. “Someone looking for a missing father would check everywhere.” She frowned. “I wonder what exactly she’s after.” As Mel focused on the scene across the courtyard, she saw Brigette ruffle through the papers on Abramson’s desk and then start on the drawers. Her movements grew increasingly aggressive as one of the drawers refused to yield.
“She’s getting frustrated,” Helen whispered, though there was no need for quiet across the distance.
Through the window, they watched as Brigette moved to the laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Trying passwords,” Mel assessed. “But not getting in, based on her expression.”
“Could she be trying to find evidence of what happened to him?” Helen asked, but her tone suggested she didn’t believe it herself.
“If that were true, she’d be more concerned about what we told the police about the attack,” Mel said. “Instead, she dismissed it as if she didn’t want the police to investigate further.” Mel’s jaw tightened as she remembered Brigette’s quick explanation of her father’s disappearance. “No, she’s looking for something specific. Something she doesn’t want anyone else to find.”
Brigette had returned to the drawer, this time with what appeared to be a kitchen knife. “She’s desperate,” Helen observed. “Whatever’s in that drawer, she wants it badly.”
“The question is why,” Mel said, her mind racing through possibilities. “We know she flew here specifically to stop him from publishing his story. Now he’s missing, and she’s breaking into his desk instead of looking for him.”
Helen’s grip on Mel’s arm tightened slightly. “You think she was involved? In what happened to him?”
“Hmm,” Mel hummed slowly. “I think that she guessed something was going to happen. Whether she was directly involved or just aware of the danger, I’m not sure yet.”
They watched as Brigette finally abandoned the drawer and returned to the laptop. After another frustrated attempt at the password, she unplugged it and slipped it into her designer handbag.
“She’s taking it,” Helen said, a note of alarm in her voice. “Shouldn’t we stop her?”
“We can’t,” Mel replied, though every instinct screamed at her to intervene. “It would be hard to dispute that she didn’t have her father’s permission. Besides...” She hesitated, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a worn leather wallet. “I may have acquired something during the police search.”
Helen’s eyes widened. “Mel Nelson, did you steal evidence?”
“I preserved evidence,” Mel said. “I saw it on the counter and knew the police wouldn’t take it seriously. If something happened to Abramson, there might be clues in here about why.”
Before Helen could respond, movement across the courtyard caught their attention. Brigette was leaving with the laptop in her bag. “What do we do now?” Helen asked once Brigette had disappeared from view. “We can’t really just let her walk away with potential evidence.”
Mel turned the wallet over in her hands, feeling the worn leather. “We have no choice,” she said. “But we might have something just as valuable. Help me go through this?”
They moved to the small dining table where Mel carefully emptied the wallet’s contents. Credit cards, a few crumpled receipts, and… “Hello,” Mel said softly, holding up a small key. “What do you want to bet this opens that drawer?”
Helen let out a long breath. “Oh, I think you’re right. But how do we get in to try it?” she asked, examining the key clutched in Mel’s fingers. “We can’t exactly break in, and the police won’t help us.”
“No,” Mel agreed, her mind already working on solutions. “But we might not need to break in. Remember, the resort has a cleaning service, and cleaning services have master keys.”
Helen’s eyes lit up with understanding. “We just need to figure out when they clean his room.”
“Exactly.” Mel gathered the wallet’s contents, except for the key which she slipped into her pocket. “But first, we need to think about what Brigette’s actions tell us. She came here to stop her father from publishing something. Now he’s attacked, missing, and she’s more concerned with getting into his desk than finding him.”
“You really think she might have been involved in his disappearance?” Helen asked softly.
“There’s no way to know for sure,” Mel said. “But sometimes family ties aren’t as strong as other motivations. Money, fear, blackmail—any of those could make someone act against their father.”
Helen was quiet for a moment, processing. “The police won’t believe us without evidence.”
“No,” Mel agreed. “Which is why we need to find some. Whatever is in that drawer is important enough for Brigette to try breaking into it. Important enough to take the laptop.”
“And important enough for someone to attack James Abramson.”
Mel reached across the table, taking Helen’s hand. “We don’t have to do this,” she said. “We could walk away, finish our vacation, let the police handle it their way.”
Helen squeezed her hand. “I don’t think you could do that. Am I wrong?”
Mel paused, considering the question. “It would be difficult,” she finally admitted. “But I won’t put you in danger. This isn’t what you signed up for when we planned this vacation.”
“What I signed up for was being with you,” Helen said, a determined look in her eye. “And you’re a detective at heart, Mel Nelson. If that means helping solve a mystery instead of lounging on the beach, then that’s what we’ll do.”
Mel felt that familiar warmth that seemed to hit her daily since meeting Helen. “Have I told you lately how amazing you are?”
“Not in the last hour,” Helen said with a smile. “Now, shall we figure out when they will next clean the rooms on this floor?”
* * *
Helen watched as Mel hung up the phone after speaking with the front desk. “We are in luck. The cleaning service does this floor tomorrow morning,” Mel reported, setting her phone down with a slight frown. “Between nine and eleven.”
“So we wait,” Helen said, trying to hide her relief at the delay. While she was committed to helping solve whatever had happened to James Abramson, part of her welcomed a brief respite from the mounting tension.
“We wait,” Mel agreed, running a hand through her hair. “Though I hate giving Brigette more time to cover her tracks.”
Helen stood from where she’d been perched on the edge of the apartment’s couch. “Then let’s get out of here for a while,” she suggested. “I know it’s getting late but maybe a stroll under the stars while we hear the ocean will help.”
Mel looked like she wanted to protest at first, but then she nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “Sitting here won’t make things happen faster.”
The stars were out as they made their way to the resort’s courtyard and toward the walkway that followed the beach. The night air was warm and sweet with plumeria, and tiki torches cast flickering light along the path. Under different circumstances, it would have been perfectly romantic. Helen felt Mel’s hand slip into hers, a gesture that had become as natural as breathing over their months together.
“What are you thinking?” Helen asked, noting the distant look in Mel’s eyes.
“Just trying to piece it all together,” Mel replied. “The pale man in the suit, Brigette’s behavior, that literary agent Felicity...” She shook her head. “There are too many players, too many possible motives.”
They reached a small cluster of restaurants near the beach. The sounds of live Hawaiian music drifted from one establishment while the smell of grilled fish wafted from another. “Let’s get something to drink,” Helen suggested, pointing to a quieter spot with ocean views. “Somewhere we can talk without shouting.”
The hostess led them to a corner table on the outdoor terrace, where strings of lights created a soft glow above them. The ocean stretched dark and endless beyond the railing, its waves providing a soothing backdrop. “You know what bothers me most?” Mel said after they’d ordered a pair of Mai Tais. “The way Brigette didn’t even pretend to be worried about her father. It was all about getting into that drawer and accessing his laptop.”
Helen nodded, thinking back to their observations. “Like she already knew what had happened to him?”
“Maybe.” Mel’s fingers drummed lightly on the table. “And then she searched his office.”
“Because there’s something in there she really wants,” Helen said. Their drinks arrived. Helen took a sip, letting the cool, fruity cocktail calm her nerves. “The question is, what could be so important?”
Mel’s expression grew thoughtful. “Remember what we found out about his past? The story he was working on when his wife died?”
“The college basketball scandal,” Helen said. “The one that never got published.”
“What if this is connected? What if he finally found proof of something bigger?”
Helen’s eyes widened. “Big enough to kill him for?”
Mel reached across the table, covering Helen’s hand with her own. “Hey,” she said softly. “We don’t have to talk about this now. We can just have a nice drink and forget about it.”
Helen managed a small smile. “Can we? With everything that’s happened?”
“We can try.” Mel squeezed her hand. “Tell me about your call with Jenny earlier. How are her grad school applications going?”
The attempt at normalcy was touching, but Helen could see the wheels still turning behind Mel’s eyes. Still, she appreciated the effort. They talked about Jenny’s plans, about Diane’s kids, about anything except their neighbor’s disappearance. As they finished their drinks, a cool breeze picked up off the ocean, making Helen shiver slightly. Mel immediately shrugged off her light jacket and draped it over Helen’s shoulders. The gesture, so automatic and caring, made Helen’s heart ache with love for this woman who could be both tough detective and tender partner.
“Should we go down to the surf and walk on the beach?” Mel suggested as they left the restaurant. “The moon’s almost full.”
Helen nodded, slipping her arm through Mel’s as they made their way down to the shore. The sand was still warm from the day’s sun, and the moonlight created a silver path across the water. They walked in comfortable silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. “I’m scared, Mel,” Helen finally admitted, her voice barely audible above the waves. “Not just about what happened to James, but about what might happen if we keep investigating.”
Mel stopped walking, turning to face her. In the moonlight, her expression was serious. “We can stop,” she said. “Right now. No one would blame us.”
Helen reached up to touch Mel’s cheek. “I know I keep asking this, but could you really do that? Knowing what we saw?”
“If you asked me to, yes,” Mel said without hesitation. “You matter more to me than any investigation.”
The simple declaration brought tears to Helen’s eyes. “And that’s exactly why we have to keep going,” she said. “Because you’re the kind of person who would give up finding the truth to protect someone you love. But I also know you care about justice more than anyone I’ve ever known.”
Mel pulled her close, and Helen buried her face in her partner’s shoulder, breathing in her familiar scent. They stood like that for a long moment, holding each other as the waves lapped at the shore behind them. “We should head back,” Mel finally said, pressing a kiss to Helen’s temple. “Get some rest before tomorrow morning.” As they returned to their apartment, Helen felt a strange mix of fear and determination. Whatever they found in that drawer tomorrow, whatever dangers lay ahead, they would face them together. And somehow, that made even the scariest possibilities seem manageable.
* * *
Back in their apartment, Mel stood at the sliding glass door, watching the moonlight play across the courtyard. The glare of the desk lamp still lit Abramson’s apartment, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing something important. “You’re brooding,” Helen said softly behind her. Mel turned to find her partner had changed into her favorite silk nightgown. The pale blue one that she liked so much.
“Just thinking,” Mel replied, though they both knew it was more than that. She watched as Helen moved to the small kitchen to pour them each a glass of water. Even such a simple action carried grace that never failed to catch Mel’s attention.
“Share them with me?” Helen asked, bringing the glasses over and settling onto their small couch. She patted the space beside her.
Mel joined her, accepting the cool glass. “I keep going over everything we know,” she admitted. “Brigette’s behavior, the pale man, Felicity... it’s like having all the pieces of a puzzle but not being able to see the picture they make.”
Helen’s hand found hers their fingers intertwining naturally. “Maybe we’re trying too hard to force them together,” she suggested. “Sometimes patterns emerge more clearly when you step back.”
Mel smiled, feeling some of her tension ease at Helen’s touch. “When did you get so wise about detective work?”
“I’ve had a good teacher,” Helen replied, her eyes twinkling. “Though I suspect I still have a lot to learn about proper investigation techniques.”
“You’re doing just fine,” Mel said, bringing their joined hands to her lips. “Better than fine, actually. I don’t think I could do this without you.” The moment stretched between them, filled with unspoken understanding. Helen’s presence beside her was both grounding and electrifying, a contradiction that had fascinated Mel since they first met.
“You know what I love about you?” Helen asked, setting her water aside.
“What’s that?”
“How you can be so fierce about justice, so determined to solve mysteries, and yet so gentle with the people you care about.” Helen’s free hand came up to trace Mel’s jawline. “It’s quite remarkable, really.”
Mel felt warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the tropical night. “I’m not always gentle,” she said.
“No,” Helen agreed with a soft laugh. “But you are with me. Even when you’re frustrated about a case or worried about what we might find tomorrow.”
The mention of tomorrow’s plans sent a pull of anxiety through Mel’s stomach, but Helen’s touch anchored her to the present moment. She turned her head slightly to press a kiss to Helen’s palm. “I meant what I said on the beach,” Mel said quietly. “If you want to stop investigating, we can. Your safety matters more to me than solving this mystery.”
Helen shifted closer, her knee brushing against Mel’s thigh. “And I meant what I said too. We’re in this together.” Her voice dropped lower. “Though perhaps we could take a break from thinking about it for a little while?”
The suggestion in Helen’s tone made Mel’s breath catch. Even after six months together, Helen could still make her heart race.
“A break sounds good,” Mel managed, her voice rougher than usual. She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind Helen’s ear, letting her fingers trail down her neck. “What did you have in mind?”
Helen’s smile was both tender and mischievous. “Oh, I’m sure we can think of something,” she murmured, leaning in to capture Mel’s lips in a gentle kiss. After a beat, the kiss deepened naturally, filled with both familiar comfort and electric anticipation. When they finally parted, Helen’s eyes were dark with desire. “Perhaps we should move this somewhere more comfortable?” she suggested, glancing toward their bedroom.
Mel nodded, suddenly unable to form words. She stood, pulling Helen up with her, and couldn’t resist stealing another kiss. Helen laughed softly against her lips, the sound full of affection and promise. Mel pulled her closer, feeling the softness of her skin and the warmth of her body through the thin fabric. She savored the sweet taste of her.
Responding with a soft sigh, Helen’s arms wrapped around Mel’s neck, deepening the kiss. They moved slowly, exploring each other’s bodies with gentle touches and tender caresses. Mel’s hands traced the curve of Helen’s back, feeling the smooth fabric beneath her fingertips. Helen’s breath hitched as Mel’s lips moved to her neck, kissing every inch. Helen’s fingers tangled in Mel’s hair, pulling her closer, needing more. After a beat, they broke apart for a moment, their foreheads touching, their breaths mingling. “I love you,” Mel whispered, her voice filled with emotion.
Helen smiled. “I love you too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Take me to the bedroom.”
Later, as they lay tangled in the sheets with the sound of waves drifting through their partially open window, Mel felt more at peace than she had all day. Helen’s head rested on her shoulder, her breathing deep and even. Tomorrow would bring its own challenges. Dealing with the cleaning service, hopefully opening the locked drawer, and whatever secrets they might uncover. But for now, everything was perfect. “Thank you,” Mel whispered into the darkness.
Helen stirred slightly. “Thank you, too,” she murmured sleepily. “Now stop thinking about the case and go to sleep.” Mel smiled, pressing a kiss to Helen’s temple. Even half-asleep, her partner knew her too well. Pulling Helen closer, Mel closed her eyes and let the rhythm of the waves outside lull her toward sleep.