Dead and Breakfast

by Kimberly G. Giarratano

  “I could’ve proved all this to you if you’d just held on to the ring,” she said.

  Liam scooped up the remains of his sandwich. His break was officially over, and he was grateful. His head throbbed with nonsense about ghosts and money. Randall had been bugging him for his share of the cash. Four grand, but Louie’s best offer was 2,000 dollars.

  Liam sighed. “Well, I didn’t. So try acting like a normal girl or something.” He didn’t mean to sound so cruel, but he couldn’t take back the words now. Why was he such a dick all the time? “I’m sorr—” But his apology came too late. Autumn had left the kitchen, the old door swinging.

  #

  Shortly before dinner, when Cora and Evelyn were busy in the kitchen composing the menu for the week, Autumn sneaked back into the attic. Her mother would be suspicious if she caught Autumn up there, or she’d accuse her of hiding to avoid work, especially since Autumn hadn’t gotten around to tidying up the April room for the new guest.

  Autumn pulled her damp T-shirt away from her sweaty skin. If it was eighty-five degrees outside, then it had to be 105 degrees in the attic. Air circulation didn’t exist up here.

  Liam might have sold the ring, but Autumn vowed to figure out what had happened to Inez. Autumn decided she wouldn’t let Liam’s words bother her anymore. Because once Autumn solved Inez’s death, then she knew the journalism committee would award her the scholarship money. After all, what other candidate would have solved a murder? And then Autumn would be back in New Jersey next September sipping warm lattes and sunbathing on the green lawns before class. Very collegiate.

  Autumn shuffled around, hoping to find what she needed and make a quick escape. After all, she had uncovered one photo. There might be photographic evidence proving Inez existed.

  Katie materialized, her ghostly form slowly coming into focus. “What are you doing?” Her voice sounded like a mixture of boredom and interest.

  Autumn nearly tripped over an old box of Uncle Duncan’s magic tricks. “Trying to find something that proves Inez was here in the late sixties. I can’t rely on a ghost’s testimony to write my scholarship essay, so I’m hoping to uncover more photos. Maybe one with Inez actually in it.”

  Katie didn’t seem too impressed, but she glided around the attic, tilting her head into crevices and narrowing her eyes at boxes. Autumn didn’t think Katie had x-ray vision, but ever since Inez was able to touch Liam in the pool, she had to admit she didn’t know as much about ghosts as she thought.

  Autumn opened up trunks, but she couldn’t bring herself to touch the old hat boxes, moldy and soft from years in the Key West humidity.

  “What about this?” Katie nodded toward a gray metal box on the floor by the window. “It’s a little rusty, but it seems to require a key. You know what they say, ‘if it’s important, lock it—’”

  “Up.” Autumn went over the gray box and picked it up. It wasn’t large or heavy for that matter. A small metal box one might use to protect cash at a garage sale. Or a firebox. “Do you see a key?” she asked Katie.

  Katie looked around. “That might be a lost cause. Usually if something is locked the key is also hidden, don’t ya think?”

  “You know, I had a diary when I was a kid. It had a key too. Except I was known for losing things, so I put the key somewhere I could find it easily. Somewhere in plain sight.” Autumn scanned the attic, which was encased in red light from the setting sun. A crimson beam of sunlight climbed the walls and shone on a collection of antique porcelain dolls. The kinds of dolls popular in scary movies and stories. Except one of the dolls was male. A sailor. On a hunch, she went over to the doll, its white sailor jacket cloaked in dust, and plucked it from the shelf. Autumn shook the dust off the doll and coughed.

  “He has a little pocket on his sailor uniform,” Katie noted.

  “So he does.” Autumn slipped her fingers inside and removed a tiny key.

  “Jackpot,” Katie said.

  “Great minds think alike.” Autumn inserted the key into the lock and opened the box.

  “Are there gold doubloons inside?” Katie joked.

  Autumn brought the box closer to the window. She stood it on top of an old trunk and rummaged through. There were a few trinkets inside. Some medals from the navy, a gold anchor pendant, a small studio headshot of a baby boy. Autumn didn’t bother removing any of the items since they didn’t seem to link to Inez.

  Autumn found a few more photos of Uncle Duncan and Ralph, dressed in their Navy uniforms and standing with their arms around each other. Uncle Duncan had a wide, easy grin, as if he’d never been happier than that moment. There was a photo of Mr. Blazevig wearing a goofy smile and holding a wooden cane in the manner of Gene Kelly from Singing In the Rain. That was one of Aunt Glenda’s favorite movies.

  Autumn found another photo of Leo and Mick with beer bottles in their hands, mischief plastered on their faces. No pictures of Inez, though. Autumn shrugged and pocketed the photos anyway. She thought her mother would want to frame a few and hang them up in the reception area. Show the guests what the Cayo used to look like in its heyday.

  Autumn lifted her hair off the nape of her neck and fanned her skin. “Rats. I better get downstairs before my mother notices. Or Aunt Glenda.” Autumn made her way toward the door.

  Katie glided behind and giggled. “I haven’t seen one of these in decades.”

  Autumn paused and glanced behind her. Katie pointed a slim, translucent finger toward an opened hatbox—the one Autumn had bypassed when she first entered the attic. Except, before the box had been closed, and now it was opened. Inside lay a stack of warped comic books, their paper edges curled with humidity and time. The one on top had a faded illustration of a sailor in sailor whites with two curvaceous women flanking him. One was a brunette, and the other was blonde.

  Katie laughed, almost to herself. “I read that one. I had sneaked into Duncan’s room looking for his stash of pot when I found his comic book collection. I devoured the whole collection in an afternoon.”

  Autumn felt herself growing impatient, but it wasn’t often Katie experienced nostalgia. “It was that good a story? What was it about? A love triangle?”

  “Oddly,” said Katie, staring up at Autumn with her big, blue eyes. “It was.” And then she vanished.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Liam sat at the kitchen table deep in thought. If Autumn was to be believed—and at this point, he wasn’t sure how trustworthy she was—then that diamond ring, and his grandparents, were connections to a ghost. A ghost who was related to his abuela, who might have been in love with his grandfather, and who fingered Pops as her killer. It was all too weird to believe. Then why did Liam feel so uneasy?

  Between the photo and the ring, Liam wondered if he and Autumn could have a conversation that didn’t revolve around death. In hindsight, maybe Liam should’ve held on to the ring just a little longer. But Louie seemed interested in cutting him a fair deal, and Mick’s interest in the whole thing made Liam’s skin crawl.

  It was best he sold it. Perhaps now, everyone—Randall, Autumn, even the bitchy ghost—would leave him alone.

  Liam didn’t hear his grandpa enter the kitchen until the old man slammed the fridge door, startling him. Pops cracked back the tab on a can of beer and chugged a long sip. He nodded at his grandson. “Got a lot on your mind?”

  Liam pursed his lips. “Something has been bothering me about that diamond ring.”

  Pops belched. “All the more reason to sell it.”

  That was a strange answer. Didn’t he want to know what was bugging Liam about the ring? Unless Pops already knew. “Are you sure it was Abuela’s ring?”

  Pops scoffed. “Of course I’m sure. It wasn’t your mother’s if that’s what you’re worried about. That woman left you nothing.”

  “That’s not what I meant. It just didn’t look like something Abuela would wear, that’s all.”

  Pops placed his beer on the Formica table before sitting down across from Liam. He to
ok a sip. “How would you know? You were only ten when she died.” Pops stared past Liam and into the backyard, his eyes glazing over. What was his grandfather thinking? “Besides, who else’s ring would it be?”

  Liam decided to take a chance. “Inez.”

  “Don’t know who you mean.” Pops got up and patted Liam’s shoulder. “I’m tired, kiddo. Had a tough day at bocce. I’m going to take a nap.”

  Liam rose to meet Pops’s eyes. “You know exactly who I mean. She had dark hair and a mole. Olive skin. She was a knock-out.”

  “You’re describing your grandmother.” Pops smiled.

  “No, this woman was not Abuela. She was Abuela’s sister and tough as nails with a jealous streak.”

  Pops swallowed as if he was ingesting a marble. “Who told you this? Glenda?”

  Liam couldn’t very well mention Autumn’s role in all this, or that a ghost accused him of murder. Pops would want to know how a seventeen-year-old Jersey girl was able to unearth demons from his past. “I ran into Mick Canton at the pawn shop. He spotted the ring and then said the weirdest thing.”

  Pops ran his hand along his gray scruff. “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “‘It didn’t cost four grand when it was new, I bet you that much.’ What do you think he meant by that?”

  “You’d have to ask Canton.”

  Liam pounded his fist on the table, which surprised his aging grandfather—the man who had raised him, who had taken him to Little League games and attended parent-teacher conferences. The man who, up until lately, he had trusted implicitly. “You know I can’t ask Canton. So, I’m asking you because you know the answer.”

  Pops leaned back against the fridge and crossed his arms. The anchor tattoo stretched over his wrinkled skin. “Mick Canton knows how much the ring initially cost because he gave it to Inez.”

  Liam fell into the chair. “They were engaged?”

  “Yup.”

  “Then how did Abuela get the ring?”

  “Your grandmother said Inez and Mick had a fight. One of many. Inez threw the ring at Mick and Mariana picked it up, afraid it would get lost.”

  “What was the fight about?” asked Liam.

  Pops pushed himself off the fridge and held up his hands in mock surrender. “I don’t know. Ask Mick Canton.”

  #

  “Here ya go, Mr. . . .” Autumn trailed off as she opened the door to the April room on Friday afternoon, wishing that she had prepared it better. An hour ago, she had set out to dust the antique furniture and vacuum the oriental rugs, but all she managed to do was wipe down the mirrors before nausea overcame her. Perhaps the room’s faint scent of salt and fish was to blame. The guest had arrived early anyway.

  “Fletcher,” the man replied. “Kevin Fletcher.”

  “Mr. Fletcher,” she said, stifling a burp. What is wrong with me? “I hope you enjoy your stay at the Cayo Hueso.” She waved her arms around, showcasing the soft, mint green paint. “This is the April room.”

  Mr. Fletcher wagged his bushy eyebrows. “The April room?”

  “All the rooms are named after a month. My uncle’s idea. There are twelve rooms.”

  “Huge place. Not all occupied?”

  “No.” Autumn walked over to the bathroom and flicked on the lights. “Here’s your personal guest bath. There’s a hair dryer in the top drawer of the vanity.” She glanced at the man’s thinning gray hair. “Uh, or not. Cora makes breakfast at seven a.m., but will only keep the eggs hot until eight thirty. No later. After that, she says they taste like rubber. There’s a pad and paper on top of the nightstand and the Bible in the top drawer.”

  Mr. Fletcher grunted and pointed to his chest. “Atheist.”

  Autumn pointed at herself. “Jewish on my paternal grandma’s side.”

  Mr. Fletcher laughed.

  Autumn clapped her hands. “Anything else you need?”

  “Yeah, can you suggest some things to do?”

  Was he for real? He was in Key West—a tourist mecca. There were a million things to do. “Most of our guests enjoy the Haunted Key West Tour run by Mr. Blazevig. He takes you on a walking tour of Old Town and shows you all the haunted spots. Of course, you’re already staying in one.”

  “I’m not really the believing type,” he said. “I think it’s all a load of nonsense. No offense.”

  Sure, no one’s a believer until they confront a ghost. “Why are you staying here? The only reason people come to the Cayo is to be haunted. We’re famous for our ghosts.”

  “I came to Key West to relax and work, and this place has the cheapest rate in all of Old Town.” Mr. Fletcher examined the room and shrugged. “Also, the only vacancy on such short notice.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what kind of work do you do?”

  “I used to be a lawyer. But now I report on crime.”

  “Like murders? Stuff like that?” Her mind spun. She wondered if he’d be willing to take a look at her scholarship application. Maybe even give her some revision notes. Or better yet, write her a letter of recommendation.

  She decided not to ask him just yet as she had no evidence, nor theories, on Inez’s murder.

  “Yup. Stuff like that,” he said. “Not the stuff of sweet dreams.”

  “Well then, sounds to me like you deal with ghosts all the time.”

  He set his suitcase on the bed. “Clever girl. You might be right about that.”

  Autumn stared at the floral bedspread with the pink hibiscus pattern. Suddenly, she saw a flash of tangled arms and legs.

  Another flash. Inez kissing Mick.

  The bile climbed Autumn’s throat.

  Another flash.

  I love you, Inez.

  Te amo, Mick.

  Autumn leaned against the desk, her weight jostling the keys and Mr. Fletcher’s computer.

  He dipped his head. “Are you okay? Do you want me to get your mom?”

  Autumn squeezed her eyes closed and then opened them. The room appeared brighter, although her mind felt impaired and dull. “I’m okay. Just the heat getting to me.”

  “Ah. A northerner. Am I right? You’ll get used to it.”

  Autumn pressed her palm to her temple. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this place.” And she meant it.

  “Autumn!” Evelyn called from downstairs.

  “Gotta go.” Autumn deposited the room key on top of the small, pine desk next to the man’s laptop.

  “See you at dinner.” Before Autumn closed the door, she noticed a handprint on the bureau mirror, one she had sworn she wiped away only an hour ago.

  #

  Liam parked his gold scooter in the street outside Autumn’s school and waited for her, paying no attention to the students scurrying around him.

  When Autumn emerged into the sunlight, he waved. She rolled her eyes and hustled down the steps, walking quickly past him. But Liam was faster. He gently touched her arm.

  “Hey, slow down.”

  “Why?” she asked, without looking at him. “I’d think you’d rather talk to someone normal. I’m sure Victoria is around here somewhere. Besides, my mom needs me at the Cayo.” She glanced down at his tanned fingers, still curled around her arm.

  “Okay, I deserve that.” Liam lowered his voice. “I was hoping we could talk about things. Supernatural things. And your mom isn’t expecting you home.”

  She peered at him through thick lashes. “What do you mean?”

  “I suggested I pick up the day’s catch at the pier since Mrs. Paulson wanted a seafood dinner and your mother seems anxious to impress the new guest. But then Evelyn insisted you come with me. I don’t think she trusts me.” His voice softened and he realized how he must had sounded—hurt. He secretly hoped Autumn would feel bad for him. In suggesting he get the fish, he was trying to get into Evelyn’s good graces. Although he didn’t anticipate working at the Cayo too much longer, he still didn’t want her treating him like he was a thief counting the silver. He wasn’t prepared for Evelyn to insi
st Autumn come too. That was an added bonus.

  Liam heard one of Victoria’s minions call out, “What’s the ghost freak doing with Liam?” Autumn winced. He pretended not to hear the comment.

  “I don’t know,” Autumn said, her voice trailing.

  Liam sensed she wouldn’t want to climb on the back of his scooter until he apologized. “I’m sorry about what I said last week. But you need to see it from my perspective. I prefer to think the Cayo brings out the worst in my imagination, and then you come along and tell me the ghosts are . . .”

  “Real?”

  “Possible,” he clarified. “Nothing about any of this seems real. Not coming home to Key West. Not my job at the Cayo Hueso. Not you.” He stared at her and watched as her cheeks colored. “Besides, I know my grandfather didn’t hurt that ghost girl. But, maybe I know who could have.”

  Autumn adjusted the strap on her bag and arched her brow. Liam handed her a purple helmet, which he had taken from the small cargo space on the back of the seat. “Come on. We can talk.”

  Autumn still hesitated. Somewhere behind her, Victoria’s shrill voice cried out, “What’s she doing with him?” Victoria hurried down the steps. Autumn glanced quickly at Liam before grabbing the helmet, slapping it on her head, and jumping on the back of the bike.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she said and they sped off toward the wharf.

  Autumn wrapped her arms around Liam’s waist. His pulse immediately quickened. Victoria never wanted to ride on his scooter, and when she did, it was mostly after he cajoled her. No one owned cars in Key West. At least no one he knew. Most friends had bicycles or scooters. Some just walked. Only problem was, you couldn’t get off the island without a car. Scooters were not meant for Highway 1.

  Liam parked next to a food truck that served breakfast until ten. The lot was empty except for rogue roosters, who pecked at the sand and sparse blades of grass. Autumn dismounted and adjusted her floral dress. Liam tried and failed not to stare at her tanned legs.

  The boats would be arriving soon. Liam tilted his chin toward the water. “Fish is coming off the Benny Blue Eyes.”