Dead and Breakfast

by Kimberly G. Giarratano

  But before Autumn could ask her what she meant by that, Katie had disappeared.

  #

  The following morning, Liam rapped gently on the aluminum front door to Randall’s granddad’s trailer, which occupied a postage-size lot off Laurel Avenue on Stock Island, just a short scooter drive from Pops’s place.

  Liam hadn’t been there in years, not since Mr. Bell had called Pops an uppity cheat. Pops said it had something to do with a bad round of bocce ball at the VFW. Liam hoped Randall’s grandfather was over it now because he really needed to talk business with his friend.

  Liam waited on the small porch. The weathered gray boards wobbled under his feet. He didn’t hear any noise, so he leaned over the porch to peer in the dingy window. A blue recycling bin sat underneath. He rapped on the door again and called out, “Randall!”

  A moment later, Randall opened the screen door in his ratty cargo shorts and no shirt. He yawned and adjusted his baseball cap, which he wore backward. Randall clapped Liam on the shoulder, but waited until the jet noise above subsided before saying, “Sorry, dude. I was napping.”

  “You texted me last night,” Liam pointed out. “Said to see you first thing this morning.”

  Randall led Liam to a set of beach chairs leaned against the lattice that covered the trailer’s undercarriage. The faded awning provided some relief from the sun.

  Liam wiped sand off the seat before sitting down. He rested his sneakers on the rough patch of grass and adjusted his sunglasses. Liam forgot how much he used to enjoy coming here, more so when Randall’s grandfather was nowhere to be seen. Despite the noise pollution from the airport, Stock Island held a certain industrial charm. For Liam, it was like going back in time.

  Randall folded his hands behind his head and sighed. “This, right here, is the life.” He knocked the lid off a cooler and reached inside for a beer. “You want one?”

  “Nah, dude.” Liam checked the time on his phone. “It’s not even nine.” He looked around for the old Pontiac. “Where’s your grandfather?”

  Randall shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care. I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

  “Aren’t you worried?”

  “Nope.” Randall opened the tab on the can, took a swig, and belched.

  “Okay.” Liam would be freaking out if Pops didn’t come home. Although, his first instinct would be to ring the neighbor’s door. “Anyway, was Keith able to get the bikes?”

  Randall nodded. “He’s storing them in his garage in the backyard.”

  “All fifteen?” Liam vaguely remembered Keith’s house. The garage was nothing more than a glorified shed.

  “Yeah. We moved them there late last night. Had to borrow a truck and everything. Hence, why I was still sleeping when you knocked.”

  “Okay,” said Liam, but his insides churned a bit with anxiety. What kind of business partner would Randall be? Would he sleep in on weekends, leaving Liam to do all the management? “You’re not gonna be like this when we start our business, are you?”

  Randall cocked a brow. “Like what?”

  Liam waved his arms around the trailer site. “Slackerish.”

  Randall pushed away the comment with his hand. “I’m the one who was up at midnight, hauling scooters. What were you doing? Hanging out with your girlfriend?”

  Liam held up his pointer finger. “First, I wasn’t hanging out with Autumn, and you know that because you were spying on her! And second, she’s not my girlfriend.”

  “Whatever,” said Randall, downing another sip.

  “And what were you doing spying on Autumn to begin with? We’re not doing haunted ghost tours.”

  Randall belched. “I know that.”

  “Then?”

  “Autumn made an assumption, and I let her think we were ripping off old Blazevig.”

  Liam shifted in his chair. “Then why were you following her?”

  Randall put his beer down and flattened a few random blades of grass. “I was asked to.”

  Liam rose and rummaged for a can of soda from the cooler. “Did Vicky tell you to spy on her? I really didn’t imagine her to be the jealous type. Anyway, tell Vic she can worry about herself. I know what I’m getting into.”

  “Do you?”

  Liam pulled back the tab and took a sip. The sweet, ice-cold liquid that traveled down his throat felt like relief. “Anyway, let’s talk business and not my love life.”

  “Fair enough.” Randall crushed his beer can and tossed it toward the recycling bin. He missed by inches, but stayed seated.

  “What do we need to do to your granddad’s lot to make it usable?”

  “Well, there’s a small structure on the land. We could use that as sort of a kiosk. We need permits and a lawn mower.”

  “Okay,” said Liam. “The lawnmower isn’t an issue. I’m sure I can borrow one from the Cayo. But permits . . . how much do you think that will cost?”

  Randall shrugged. “I figured since I did the heavy lifting, you could check into getting the permits.”

  “Sure,” said Liam. He could make a trip to town hall. Hopefully, permits weren’t expensive. “Once that’s done. We can set up. Get the bikes repaired and on the premises. I guess our last issue is advertising. We need to tell tourists we’re here. The salt ponds are not exactly on the tourists’ radar.”

  “I’ll make print T-shirts with a logo.” Randall grinned.

  “Do we have a logo?”

  “Uh, no.”

  Liam sighed. “I’ll ask Timothy at the Cayo to design something. He’s savvy with that stuff.”

  “Sounds like you’re really fitting in over there,” Randall muttered.

  Liam finished the soda and tossed the can into the recycling container. Slam dunk. “I don’t know if I’m fitting in. It’s a family run business. I’m not exactly family. But everyone is nice enough.” Except for Evelyn.

  Randall dug his heels into the dirt and leaned back in his chair. “Vicky’s right. You will get hurt.”

  “Stop telling Vicky stuff. I had to have a talk with Mick about our start-up.”

  Randall bolted upright. “He knows?”

  Liam did a double take at Randall. “You think when you confide in Victoria, she keeps her mouth closed? You should know better than that.”

  Randall scraped his nail against a piece of hard plastic that jutted from the armrest. “And he didn’t seem pissed?”

  “Not that I could tell. But you know Mick Canton. He’s just biding his time until he—”

  The boys turned their heads toward the sound of a car’s engine approaching. Randall groaned and grumbled, “Granddad’s home.”

  Liam watched as Fred Bell parked his midnight blue Pontiac in front of the trailer, narrowly missing the trailer’s rickety porch. He struggled to climb out of the drivers’ seat. “What are you two losers doing?”

  “Nothing, Granddad.”

  The old man stumbled around his car. His brown slacks were stained and shredded at the hem. His shoelaces were untied. A red scratch cut across his bulbous nose and his glasses hung crooked on his face.

  “Where’ve you been anyway?” Randall asked, getting to his feet and helping his grandfather up the little porch.

  “I was at the Green Parrot, and then I hung out with old Ralphie for a little while. I fell asleep in my car.”

  “Ralph Blazevig?” Liam asked.

  Fred’s eyes searched Liam’s face as if trying to place him. “Yeah. We go way back.” He chuckled and then hiccupped. “I used to hit on his sister.”

  A noise of disgust escaped Liam’s mouth.

  “Just like your Pops,” Fred sneered. “Too good for everyone else.”

  Liam retreated a step. “I’m gonna take off.”

  Randall nodded as he held his grandfather’s elbow. “See you later, dude.”

  Liam put on his helmet and started the scooter’s engine. He watched Fred Bell stumble into his rundown trailer. Pops had always been a drinker, but he’d never been as bad
as Randall’s grandfather. Liam made a mental note to replace Pops’s beers with a six-pack of cola.

  #

  Autumn felt uneasy during dinner, which probably explained her upset stomach. She’d picked at her fish fillet, only taking a few bites, and pushed the rest of her meal around the edges of her plate. A childish tactic and an unnecessary one. Evelyn was so distracted with the budget reports that she didn’t even flinch when Autumn announced she had homework and asked to be excused. Her mother shoved a piece of bread in her mouth and waved Autumn away without so much as a glance in her daughter’s direction.

  Autumn needed fresh air, so she wandered into the patio area. Even though she hadn’t moved around much, sweat pooled under her arms and at her temples. She peeled her blouse from her skin, but it was no use. Autumn pressed the back of her clammy hand to her forehead. Am I coming down with something? Maybe, but these symptoms seemed different. She had no sniffles, no congestion. Not even a sore throat. Her stomach rolled, and only a handful of crackers could alleviate the nausea. Perhaps Autumn’s queasiness could be attributed to the stress of living in a haunted hotel.

  “Inez?” Autumn asked the still night air. “Are you here?” She was greeted with silence.

  Autumn walked around the patio, stepping over cracks in the concrete that had been hastily repaired by Uncle Duncan years ago. Autumn examined a rust stain on the concrete, probably made from a pool of water that had sat on the patio too long. The rust reminded Autumn of blood, and she wondered how Inez had died. So far, all she knew was that the woman was murdered, but how?

  Autumn glanced back at the Cayo, making sure her mother wasn’t lurking in the window. Evelyn never liked it when Autumn spoke to spirits. Although Evelyn was convinced Autumn had only been talking to herself. The Cayo was quiet.

  “Was this how you died?” Autumn pointed to the pool. “Were you drowned?”

  Autumn heard a cackling laugh.

  Without the ring, she had no way to pull Inez to her. No way to access the ghost’s mind. She’d hoped speaking to her aloud would provoke the spirit, but Inez couldn’t be controlled that way. Autumn considered a different tactic.

  “You drowned, didn’t you? Maybe, no one killed you. Maybe you just drank too much and slipped on the wet patio. It’s not the first time that has happened. Some silly high school girl has one too many whiskey sours or whatever you guys drank back then. She isn’t paying attention and she falls, knocks her head on the edge of the pool, and tumbles into the water. And there’s no one to save her.”

  Autumn jerked back as if two hands have shoved her hard. Inez was present and probably pissed. Good. If I can’t use the ring to call her, maybe I can use reverse psychology.

  “Admit it, Inez. You killed yourself by being stupid—” A punch smashed into her chest and Autumn cried out. The swirling blackness quickly followed.

  Autumn sucked in a breath. She exhaled as someone clasped her hand and swayed with her. Her heels clacked on the Cayo’s pristine cement patio. A recognizable the song, The Supremes’ “My World is Empty Without You” emanated from the record player which was set up on a bridge table near the French doors. She felt a hot breath in her ear.

  Mick held Inez close as they danced. He wore the dark blue uniform with white stripes on the sleeves. Just like the night they met in Autumn’s first vision. The diamond glinted on Inez’s finger. “My grandmother’s ring looks beautiful on you,” said Mick.

  Inez admired the glitz. “It does, doesn’t it?”

  Mick twirled Inez around, and she bumped into a soft body behind her.

  Glenda’s faced pinched with annoyance and her eyes searched frantically. “Has anyone seen Duncan?”

  Inez moved her hips and spun around the redhead. “He’s probably hiding from you.”

  “Inez,” Mick warned.

  “What? She’s a ditz. No wonder Duncan’s a queer.” Inez laughed.

  Did queer then mean the same thing it means now?

  Inez yelped as Glenda yanked Inez’s hair. “Get off me, puta.”

  Glenda ran her fingers across Inez’s face, drawing blood. Inez screamed and charged Autumn’s aunt. Autumn wished she could stop her, but Mick had pulled her back and hissed in her ear, “Let it go or she could hurt the both of you.”

  The both of you?

  Duncan came bounding near the pool with Ralph on his heels. “What’s going on here? We heard a scream.”

  Glenda wiped furiously at her eyes.

  Mick answered, “Nothing. The girls wigged out a little over the music. Wasn’t anything.”

  Duncan tilted up Glenda’s chin and whispered, “Is that right?”

  Inez taunted, “Tell him. Go on.”

  Glenda glared at Inez before she nodded. “I wanted to hear The Rolling Stones, that’s all. Inez disagreed. Things got heated. It’s nothing.”

  Duncan shot Mick a pointed look as Mick shrugged his broad shoulders. Duncan led Glenda away from the patio and inside the Cayo, leaving Mick alone with Inez.

  “Why do you have to say those things?” Mick asked.

  “What? I’m saving the chica from her misery,” said Inez with an air of indifference. “She shouldn’t be with someone who can’t really love her.”

  Inez should take her own advice.

  Autumn felt that queasiness hit her insides again. She pushed Mick away and retched into a nearby shrub.

  “I heard it doesn’t last long,” Mick said from behind. “Maybe a few weeks.”

  Autumn hurled again. Her mind spun. The sudden nausea. Mick’s protectiveness. Autumn remembered seeing Jennifer retch into a trashcan during a video call with Autumn’s dad.

  “Don’t worry, pumpkin,” her father had told Autumn. “Jennifer’s okay. It will only last a few weeks.”

  When Autumn stood up, she was back in the present day. Inez having left her body, but having told Autumn something very important.

  Inez was pregnant.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Tuesday morning Liam gently rapped on the wood moulding outside reception. Evelyn sat at a small table in the lobby, eating a bagel while pouring over some books. Autumn was there as well. The minute he saw her, his chest swelled. He watched as her cheeks reddened too.

  Autumn had texted him last night to tell him about Inez and the baby. He hoped they’d have time to discuss it before school, but glancing at Evelyn’s hunched shoulders, it didn’t seem likely.

  “Morning, Mrs. Abernathy. Where would you like me to start today?”

  Evelyn didn’t even lift her gaze from the ledger. She held out her hand with a piece of notebook paper dangling from her fingertips. “I have a list here for you. There’s a leak in the August bathroom. Mr. Fletcher mentioned hearing a constant dripping last night across the hall, and he was none too pleased about it.”

  “I didn’t hear him complain,” Autumn said. “And I saw him this morning at breakfast.”

  Her mother looked up from the ledger as if seeing everyone in the room for the first time. “That’s because he is too much of a gentleman to say anything. But it would’ve annoyed anyone trying to sleep, I can tell you that. It’s our job to see that guests’ needs are met even before they know what those needs are.”

  Liam knitted his brows in confusion. It sounded to him like Evelyn was spewing something she must’ve read in a book. How to Run a Hotel for Dummies. And she thought they were all dummies. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go upstairs and take care of it. Do you know where the leak is coming from?”

  “I believe the bathtub.” She dropped her gaze back to the ledger in front of her. “I imagine the faucet needs tightening.” She nodded toward the chair next to her. On it was a red metal toolbox, circa last century. Liam grabbed it and took that as his cue to get to work. Autumn opened her mouth like she wanted to utter an apology for her mother’s coldness, but she could only shrug.

  Liam climbed the stairs, the metal tools rattling inside the box like bones in a coffin. The humidity was worse upstairs. He wip
ed a bit of sweat from his upper lip and scanned the worn wooden signs on the door. The September room was on his right. He squinted at the wood on the door and ran his finger over the faded A. August. He inhaled deeply and opened the door.

  The first thing that hit him was the wet air. Evelyn had said that the last guest to stay there was a high-maintenance middle-aged woman from Texas in town for a singles event.

  He listened carefully for the dripping. Drip . . . drip. The droplets fell softly, as if from a short distance. He opened up the bathroom door and spotted a curling iron still plugged into the socket near the base of the tub. Did no one notice this when the previous guest had left?

  The old claw foot tub nearly overflowed with water. Not only had the faucet been leaking, but the tub drain had been clogged too. Liam put down the toolbox on the tile floor and peeked inside the tub. The droplets made little rings that dissipated as they rippled through the water.

  Liam stifled a gag. Whatever was clogging that tub had to be gross. If it was a hairball, he knew it would be seconds before he could reach the toilet in time to barf up breakfast. Liam could handle blood, but hairballs he could not. He leaned over and braced one arm against the far end of the tub. He squeezed his eyes shut, thrust his hand into the water, and stuck his fingers into the drain. Streams of water flowed freely from the tub, drenching his shoes.

  I’m not being paid enough money to do this. Liam grazed something soft, not rough like hair, but silky like a piece of cloth. He pushed his fingers farther into the drain in an effort to grab it. It was no use. He yanked his hand out and opened up the toolbox, searching for a pair of pliers.

  He exhaled when he found them. The old toolkit was good for something. He leaned over the tub and put the pliers into the drain, trying to pinch the cloth between the pliers’ teeth.

  Liam smelled something burning. A curling iron, smoking from the heat, floated in the air, inching toward him. A vein in his neck pulsed rapidly as if it was about to explode. Liam froze, his eyes glued to the sizzling iron. He swallowed hard, glancing at the door, readying his escape. But then he was shoved into the bath. Water overflowed. An invisible hand pressed down on his head. The curling iron, still plugged into the socket, lingered over the tub. If it fell in, he was toast. Electrocuted. Liam struggled to grab the edge of the porcelain tub. His face broke the surface of the water and he screamed. “Help!”