“Hi, Mr. Blazevig,” Autumn said cheerfully.
The man was crouched on all fours, leaning toward a squat headstone and holding a garden trowel. He was digging out weeds that had crept up over the stone. Unlike the larger, grandiose grave markers in City Cemetery, the Blazevigs’ stones were modest and close to the ground.
Autumn never asked Mr. Blazevig directly, but Aunt Glenda said his son died in Afghanistan, and Mrs. Blazevig succumbed to pneumonia a few years ago.
Mr. Blazevig stood up and wiped his hands on his dingy white shirt. He leaned over the black iron fence that separated his family plots from the walkway where Autumn stood. “Why, hello, dear. How was school?”
Mr. Blazevig was tall and scrawny with sunburned skin. He had wispy, white hair and a jovial laugh. Aunt Glenda referred to him as a kind soul, but there was something about Mr. Blazevig that seemed tormented.
Autumn shrugged.
“That good, huh?”
“Just some mean girls at school.” No matter how good the rest of her day went, Victoria Canton always managed to seep under Autumn’s skin.
Mr. Blazevig’s narrowed his dark eyes. “Never had patience for bullies. They’ll get their comeuppance, don’t you worry.”
Perhaps. Victoria’s life seemed next to perfect. Autumn couldn’t imagine the popular and rich mean queen would ever have to worry about paying for her dream college.
“Anyway.” Autumn tried to muster a smile. “My mom needs me at the D&B.”
Mr. Blazevig wiped sweat from his brow. “Your mom is trying her hardest to get that place back on its feet. She’s smart, if you ask me. Say, you don’t think she could spare you a few nights a week?”
Autumn adjusted the strap on her messenger bag that was cutting into her shoulder. “What do you mean?”
Mr. Blazevig scratched his cheek. “Well, I could use another tour guide to take over some shifts. Um . . .” His cheeks reddened. “The doctor thinks I shouldn’t work so much.”
Mr. Blazevig ran a moderately busy ghost tour company where he escorted visitors around Old Town, showing them Key West’s most haunted attractions and telling stories of tragic demise. He did at least two tours a night, every night. And then he was back at the cemetery the next day, tending to the graves.
“Can I think about it?” Truth was, Autumn’s mother kept her pretty busy at the Cayo Hueso. If she wasn’t cleaning rooms, she was organizing Glenda’s old files, helping Cora prepare dinner, or sweeping the front porch. Plus, she hesitated to take on extra work, especially since she needed time to complete her scholarship application.
“Of course, dear.” He smiled at her, although the corner of his eyes drooped. He returned to pruning the growth surrounding the headstones.
Autumn fingered the diamond ring in her skirt pocket. She yearned to slide it back on her finger and channel Inez again, but she needed to stall. Autumn glanced at the time on her cell phone. Liam was hopefully finishing up his shift and getting ready to leave the Cayo. If Liam confronted her about the ring, Autumn knew she couldn’t lie to him. Although, her gut told her Liam already knew she had it.
Autumn directed her thoughts to the old photo she’d found in the attic. The one with her uncle and his Navy pals. If she were going to properly investigate Inez’s death, she’d need to gather more information. And Mr. Blazevig, who was somewhat of an expert in all things paranormal, would be a good start.
“Mr. Blazevig?”
His head was still bent over his work. “Yes?”
“Do you know a ghost story about a woman named Inez? She died at the Cayo Hueso sometime in the mid-1960s?”
The old man tensed his shoulders for a moment. “Uh, can’t say that I have, Autumn.”
Autumn dug around in her bag. “I have one more question. I found an old photo at the Cayo of Uncle Duncan and some navy buddies. I was wondering if you could identify them for me.”
Autumn already knew everyone in the photo, but she was fishing for something. She handed the photo to the old man.
Mr. Blazevig straightened and brushed the dirt from his threadbare pants. He removed reading glasses from his shirt pocket before holding the photo at arm’s length.
“I recognize Uncle Duncan, of course.” Autumn pointed to a tall, skinny gentleman. “Is that you?”
Mr. Blazevig laughed. “Sure is. I was always a bean pole.” He tapped his crooked finger on the largest man. “That strapping Nordic gentleman is Mick Canton. Scandinavian on his mom’s side. And that man is Leo Breyer. We were all stationed together at the naval base here. We did our tours overseas, but somehow we all managed to come back to the island.”
Autumn nodded. “You guys were close, weren’t you?”
Mr. Blazevig handed Autumn back the photo. “We were very good friends for a long time. I was so sad when Duncan died. He and I were particularly close. Like the brother I never had.”
Autumn had wondered if her uncle was the glue that held them together and if his death made them drift apart. Because as far as she knew, Mr. Blazevig, Leo, and Mick never saw one another anymore. But then she discovered that there had been a girl they knew—a girl who had died and was now haunting the Cayo. Maybe their suspicions of one another damaged their friendship.
“Thanks, Mr. Blazevig.” Autumn slipped the photo back into her bag. “I’ll let you know about the job.”
“Please do.” He crouched back down on his knees and plunged the shovel into the dirt to remove a clump of weeds. “It’s not too often I find a person I can trust.”
“How do you know you can trust me?”
“Because you’re Duncan’s niece.”
Autumn waved goodbye. She slowly made her way along the path and thought about trust. A sweet, old man like Mr. Blazevig wouldn’t lie to her about knowing Inez, but maybe he would circumvent the truth. He said he’d never heard of a ghost story about Inez, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t met her in real life. Because he had.
“There you are, Inez,” the girl said. “The boys want to go out on Ralphie’s boat.”
Mr. Blazevig was the tall, skinny sailor from Inez’s memory—Ralphie.
#
Liam entered the pool shed and left the door wide open, bringing in the natural sunlight and heat. This made him feel better, less claustrophobic. He rummaged through some old buckets, moldy pool noodles, and a broken fishing rod, hoping to unearth a shovel. His shift ended twenty minutes ago, but a stray cat dropped a dead bird at the foot of the steps leading out to the courtyard, and Evelyn had asked Liam to take care of it. Liam doubted he was receiving overtime pay for this.
“Get a shovel from the pool shed,” Evelyn had instructed. “Bury it in the back, behind the Marlberry. No one goes there.”
There was something about the way Evelyn ordered him around that felt familiar. Sometimes, it reminded him of the principal at his last high school. The one who told him that his presence would not be missed. After that, he dropped out and got his GED. Other times, Evelyn barked at him like his former babysitter after he dumped Legos all over Pops’s kitchen floor. There was just something about the woman and that something hated Liam. He must have reminded her of someone too.
Liam squinted at a dusty corner of the shed. “Aha.” The sound of his own voice calmed his nerves. This whole place made him doubt his sanity.
Just as Liam reached for the shovel, he felt a shove from behind. He tumbled over a galvanized bucket and landed awkwardly on the wood floor. A rusty nail, with its sharp tip pointed upward, was centimeters from his face. Liam attempted to push himself up, but found his feet tangled in old rope.
“Jesus.” He kicked the rope off his sneakers, hoping to free himself from the net of junk. Just as he pulled himself up, the edge of the shovel grazed his eyebrow. As if some unknown force had picked up the heavy tool and swung at him with all the intention of decapitating him. The shovel clanged loudly to the floor. Liam’s heart raced and his breath caught before he clamored out of the shed.
CHAPTE
R EIGHT
A little while later, Autumn was sneaking through the lobby—desperate to avoid Liam, whose scooter still sat outside—when her mother beckoned her from the office. Autumn leaned against the doorframe. “What’s up?”
Evelyn dropped a pen onto the ledger and faced her daughter. “Tell me about your day.”
Autumn blinked. It had been a long time since her mother inquired about her school day. Finally, she shrugged. “Haters gonna hate.”
Evelyn tilted her head. “Victoria again?”
Autumn nodded. For a second, she was tempted to squeeze into the chair next to Evelyn’s desk and disclose all that she had learned about Inez in the past two days, but she thought better of it. Bringing up ghosts would only make Evelyn bristle.
“Victoria’s certainly not the nicest girl on the island,” her mom said.
“Did you know Liam used to date her?” Autumn regretted the words the moment she uttered them. She knew her mom already disliked Liam. Her comment could only solidify that opinion, which she didn’t think was fair.
“Well,” her mom said, clucking her tongue. “I’m not surprised. Certainly shows Liam’s true colors.” Evelyn glanced at the glow of the computer monitor. “I hope you’ll be the bigger person and be nice to Victoria even though she may not deserve it. Her grandpa owns most of Key West. And he’s taken a particular interest in the Cayo. I’m considering asking him to be an investor.”
Autumn scrunched her face. She thought it funny that Liam should be harshly judged for dating Victoria, but not Autumn for being a phony and sucking up to her.
Evelyn pressed her fingers into her eyes before sipping her coffee. “I better get back to work. These accounts are a mess.”
Autumn took that as her cue to leave. As she turned to go, her mother asked, “Can you find Mrs. Paulson extra towels?”
Autumn sighed. Her investigation into Inez would have to wait.
#
After nearly tripping over the old shovel, Timothy stumbled onto the patio with a sour expression. “I swear, your shenanigans are going to get me killed. Or worse, you’re gonna make me tear my dress shirt.”
Liam sat on the patio chair, feet away from him, dabbing at a cut above his eye with the hem of his T-shirt.
“Should I get the first-aid kit? Again?” Before Liam could protest, Timothy called out, “Mama!”
Cora Newbold popped her head out the door, took one look at Liam, and emerged a moment later with a large, white handbag. She unzipped her bag and removed a clear pouch that held Band-Aids, gauze, and ointment.
Cora was heavy-set and wearing a turquoise blouse and matching head wrap. She and Timothy shared the same dark eyes and wide nose, but Timothy’s chin ended in a point. Cora’s round face was maternal and soft, although she was no nonsense as she rummaged through the medical supplies. She gingerly lifted a dark curl away from Liam’s cut. He wondered if this was what it was like to be cared for by a mother.
“How did this happen?” Cora’s accent was thick with the islands.
Liam inhaled her spicy, citrus perfume. “I tripped over a shovel. There’s so much crap in the shed.”
Cora narrowed her eyes at the blood on his forehead. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” said Liam in a tight voice.
Cora gave him a halfhearted nod, but Liam could tell that she didn’t believe him. “It seems that the ghost has it out for you.”
He sighed. This again. Sure, he thought he saw a girl in the pool, but ghosts just don’t go around drowning people. Stuff like that doesn’t happen. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
Cora dabbed at Liam’s cut with a piece of gauze. A line of red blood bloomed on the white cotton. He winced as she applied pressure. “That’s the thing about ghosts. You don’t have to believe in them, but they believe in you.”
She placed Liam’s hand onto the gauze and ordered him to hold still while she rummaged through the first-aid kit for ointment.
“What does that even mean?” he asked. “They believe in you?”
Cora twisted the cap off the bacitracin and squeezed the cloudy gel onto a bandage, which she stuck to Liam’s forehead. “My ancestors believe that spirits seek out the living when they need assistance.”
“If this spirit needs my help, then why does she keep trying to kill me?” Liam scoffed.
“Ah-ha!” Timothy cried out. “So you do admit that ghost girl took a swing at you with a shovel? Did she also bust your lip?”
“I’m not admitting anything,” said Liam. “It’s crazy to think that ghosts are real. Or that they can lift heavy shovels.”
“Hush,” said Cora with a wave. “There are presences in this house. And this one, in particular, is trying to communicate with you.”
“Why?” Liam asked.
Timothy examined his well-manicured nails as if they were more interesting than this conversation. “You might want to talk to Miss Autumn. She has some theories.”
Liam rose and touched the now-bandaged cut on his head. “That’s ridiculous.”
Cora closed the first-aid kit. “My son is right. Autumn seems very connected to the spirit world. Unlike any young person I’ve ever met. She’s a conduit for the dead.”
Someone cleared their throat and they all froze. No one had heard Evelyn’s footsteps as she entered the patio. “Liam, did you take care of the bird?”
“Not yet, Mrs. Abernathy. I got clocked by a ghost.” Liam glanced at Timothy and Cora, waiting for a laugh, but their eyes widened and they both gave imperceptible nods. Okay, so don’t talk about ghosts in front of the boss lady.
Evelyn’s eyes flitted around the pool area. “Please take care of it before you go home.” She said to Cora, “Mrs. Paulson requested grouper for dinner. Is that doable?”
“Sorry, not today, Mrs. Abernathy. There was no one to go to the wharf.” Cora slid the first-aid kit into her bag and headed inside with Evelyn, who muttered something about “guests expecting fresh seafood.”
Timothy lingered outside with Liam. “Talk to Autumn. By the way, she has your ring.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“Yeah, she flashed it at me before she did this.” Liam pointed to his swollen lip.
“She hit you?”
“No, she bit me.”
“Miss Autumn bit your lip?” Timothy sounded incredulous. “When?”
“Last night. After midnight.”
Timothy put his hands on his hips. “You came back here at night to search for the ring?”
“Crazy, right?”
Timothy’s pupils grew. “On second thought, I’m going to talk to Autumn. You go bury that bird and then go home. Your ring is safe for now.”
“What do you mean ‘for now’?”
But Timothy had already slipped through the sliding glass doors. Liam remained outside alone, with a cut on his forehead, about to say a eulogy for a bird.
#
After returning from the January room where she left Mrs. Paulson a fresh stack of towels, Autumn hurried to her bathroom. She turned on the hot tap and waited for the shower to steam up. That was the thing about truly old houses—the water pressure sucked, and it took an eternity for the water to be anything but arctic cold.
Autumn faced the bathroom mirror and slid the ponytail holder out of her hair. The brunette strands were stringy, damp from sweat. Mascara caked under her lashes, leaving flecks of black in the creases below her eyes. She saw herself as Liam must have seen her yesterday. A mess.
Autumn thought back to Inez. The way she carried herself. Tall. Elegant. Important. Being inside Inez’s memories gave Autumn an understanding of what it was like to be a woman people noticed. And yet, despite Inez’s self-confidence and beauty, she longed for something too. Not a something, Autumn realized, a someone. Someone she couldn’t have.
Steam billowed around Autumn. The ring glinted next to the soap on the sink, taunting her. Calling her. Timothy would rat her out to Liam any moment, so it was now
or never.
Autumn slipped the ring on her finger and steadied herself against the edge of the pedestal. She waited for the slight wave of dizziness.
This time when Inez climbed inside Autumn’s body, the ghost didn’t transport Autumn back in time. She hovered inside her and whispered, “What do you want to know?”
Autumn glanced at her reflection. An amber ring circled her normally brown irises. “Who are you?” Autumn felt an invisible hand guide her as she traced a letter into the steamy condensation: a lowercase t.
Okay, that’s a start. No true last name, but it shouldn’t be too hard to get information on a girl named Inez T., who died in the 1960s.
Autumn grew bolder. “Who killed you?”
Again, her hand lifted, as if guided by another force, and she wrote L-E-O on the glass.
Autumn gasped. “Are you sure?” She stared at her reflection, but Inez didn’t answer.
“Take me back,” Autumn demanded, “into your memories. Take me back to the day you died.”
Autumn’s vision clouded and then cleared. Leo Breyer loomed in front of her, his face an angry mask. Autumn’s gaze darted around, but they weren’t in the patio. They stood in corridor with doors on both sides. A school? The only illumination came from the gymnasium. Leo continued to yell at her.
A shadow lurked behind him, but Autumn couldn’t make out the form. Man or woman, she wasn’t sure.
Spittle came out with Leo’s words, and his skin grew reddened, as if he was on fire.
“I can’t take you anymore,” he screamed at her.
Autumn shrank back and laughed.
Leo’s eyes widened. He raised his hands as if to strike, and then blackness.
Autumn felt lighter. The spirit had lifted and was gone. Her vision cleared and she was back in her bathroom.
“Dammit!” Autumn cried.
She heard a pounding on the door. Her mother. “Are you almost done in there?”
“Just a minute,” she called back.
Autumn stepped into the hot shower and let the water wash away her sweat and grime. The ghost told her what she wanted to know, but she couldn’t shake her uneasiness. Inez didn’t seem exactly trustworthy. Autumn needed proof. Proof that Leo was in fact Inez’s killer, or proof that he wasn’t. Either way, she needed Liam’s help.
Dead and Breakfast Page 6
