Dead and Breakfast

by Kimberly G. Giarratano

  “He has you. He has Victoria and his Conch friends. He doesn’t need me. Besides, I’m going home.”

  “Don’t you think you are home?” Mr. Fletcher asked.

  “My family is in New Jersey. Or at least my dad is and my soon-to-be half brother.”

  “True, but you and I both know that family isn’t always blood.”

  Autumn thought about that for a moment. Timothy felt like a brother to her, and he and Autumn weren’t relatives. She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.”

  Mr. Fletcher rose from the chair. “If you think so.”

  “Aunt Glenda is selling this place,” she said.

  “To who?”

  “To me,” came a deep male voice. Both Autumn and Mr. Fletcher turned around to find Mick Canton standing underneath the trellis wearing a blue-collared shirt. His large frame took up the whole space.

  Mr. Fletcher didn’t seem fazed. “You bought the Cayo?”

  “It’s not a done deal, but it will be.” Mick smiled, showing a row of white teeth. They reminded Autumn of a shark.

  “And what are your plans for the Cayo?” Mr. Fletcher asked.

  “Why, to level it to the ground,” Mick said casually.

  Autumn leaped out of the chair. “You can’t do that. This place is historic. It was in Uncle Duncan’s family for years. There are . . .” She caught herself before saying ghosts.

  “Perhaps, young lady, there are parts of one’s past that are best left in the past,” said Mick.

  “You mean Inez?” A chill crawled up her spine.

  Mick flinched. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” His voice was ice.

  “I know that you were a couple.” Autumn jutted out her chin. “I also know that she broke your heart.” She swallowed a lump. “And I know about the baby. Is that why you killed her? You didn’t want to be a dad?”

  “Autumn,” Mr. Fletcher warned.

  Mick’s eyes flashed. “I was willing to accept my responsibility. And she didn’t just break my heart, she crushed it. She could’ve had me, she could’ve had this life. Instead, she died wanting a man who would never return her love. The Breyer men destroy everything they touch.”

  Autumn approached Mick and stood her ground. “That’s not true. Not Liam.”

  Mick glared at her. “Liam is just like his grandfather. The only way to save that boy is to bring him into the Canton fold.”

  “What did you say to Leo Breyer to get him to confess?” Autumn said.

  Mr. Fletcher raised his brow.

  Mick growled. “What makes you so sure Leo Breyer is innocent? Inez loved him. She couldn’t stay away from him.”

  “Were you jealous? Jealous enough to kill her?”

  Mick pointed a finger at Mr. Fletcher. “I don’t like what this girl is implying.”

  “Is she telling the truth?” asked Mr. Fletcher.

  “No. I don’t know who killed Inez.” Mick sniffed. “Leo was the last to see her alive. He must’ve killed her.”

  Autumn recalled Inez’s memory of the night of the party. “No, Mr. Canton. Leo was not the last person to see her alive.” She stared hard at the broad man. “You were.”

  “There’s no way for you to know that,” he said. Except his voice didn’t sound angry, just confused. “When I left her, she was alive. Everyone was at the dance.”

  “Not everyone,” said Autumn. “Somebody killed her.”

  Mick stared past Autumn. “I came to have a chat with your mom, but she seems to be out. Anyway, Bernadette will be stopping by with my contractor to talk renovations. I’m going to suggest we level this place to the ground.” He sneered at Autumn before pushing past her and out the side gate.

  #

  Liam sat in a chair on Pops’s cracked patio. He stared into the distance, his eyes glazing over the white pebbles in the backyard. The potted Mandeville flopped to one side. Liam got up and unraveled the hose, drenching the pink flower in water. The least he could do for his grandfather was to keep the plant alive.

  Liam longed to talk to someone, but he was fresh out of friends. Pops was in jail. His father was missing. Autumn hated him. Randall was a criminal.

  His eyes blurred, and his brain felt as if a goldfish was swimming circles in a murky bowl. He had no idea how he was going to get Pops out of this mess. There was no way his grandfather was a killer.

  Liam’s cell phone buzzed and he grunted as he struggled to grab it. He swiped the screen and grumbled, “What do you want?”

  “Dude,” came Randall’s voice. “You sound terrible.”

  “Seriously? My grandfather’s in jail.”

  “Okay,” Randall said slowly. “I’m calling with good news.”

  Liam scoffed. Yeah, right.

  “Mick Canton agreed not to press charges.”

  Liam didn’t say anything. “Dude, you still there?”

  Liam tried to sit up, but his limbs felt as strong as paper streamers. “I’m here. Why? How?”

  Randall coughed. “Doesn’t matter. He said he wouldn’t report us. In fact, Canton agreed to lease us a property for free. For the first few years.”

  “Mick agreed to do that?” Liam’s head buzzed. “Why would he agree to that?”

  “I don’t know why. It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re back in business, and we want you to come along, provided you focus on the scooter shop.”

  “Focus? If I remember, you were drunk off your ass just a few days ago,” Liam said.

  Liam couldn’t see, but he imagined Randall shrugging, not seeing the similarities.

  “Whatever, dude,” said Randall. “You in?”

  Liam held the phone away from his ear and stared at the screen. This was what he always wanted. He wanted to create something and be in charge of his own life. He wanted to work for himself. Randall was giving him another opportunity. But why now? Why the change?

  Liam pressed the phone back to his ear. “Screw you, Randall.” He pressed the end button, hanging up on his best friend of twelve years.

  Liam knew exactly why Mick had changed his mind. This was what Pops had agreed to. His grandfather gave up his life for Liam to have one of his own.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Liam stood over the Cayo’s swimming pool and debated on whether he wanted to fall into the water and let Inez put him out of his misery.

  Glenda approached him cautiously and rested her wrinkled hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be all right, William. My Duncan will see to it. Come, sit.” She led Liam over to a bench with a weather-beaten floral cushion and ushered him into the seat. He felt like a zombie. His brain was mush, his body numb, and he was being led around by a seventy-year-old woman with a few loose marbles.

  Glenda sat next to him and opened up her arms. Liam nestled into the crook, just like he used to do with Abuela. Glenda even smelled like his grandmother, a mixture of rose water and Aquanet hairspray. Glenda pressed her hand against Liam’s head, and he sobbed. He couldn’t even be embarrassed at this point. Everything was a mess. Pops was in prison for murder, his drunk father was gallivanting across the country trying to find a woman who didn’t want to be found, and Autumn hated him.

  Liam cried for a few minutes before straightening up. He wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and sniffled. “If Duncan were here, he’d figure out a way to tell Autumn the truth.”

  Glenda stared at her hands in her lap. “Perhaps he can’t tell her.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Because perhaps he isn’t here at all.” Glenda sighed heavily. “Ghosts are rare and enigmatic beings. But I was never scared of them. Even as a child, I was never frightened. My mother used to call me crazy for communicating with them. Although, eventually, I stopped seeing them. Sometimes, I think my mother frightened them away, or maybe I did. I don’t know. You, Timothy, and Autumn all have a gift. My gift disappeared long ago.” Glenda’s voice took on a childlike quality. She sounded both sad and terrified, as if those memories were as real
now as they were when she was small. Maybe to her, they were.

  “The truth is, I loved Duncan with all my heart, but I don’t know if he felt the same way. I don’t think he’s here watching over us. I kept holding on to the Cayo, even when I was running it into the ground, because I couldn’t imagine walking away from Duncan’s spirit. But, I think he left long ago—maybe long before he died. Whatever happened here with Inez affected him. Before he died, he wanted to sell the Cayo. He said the building didn’t hold the happy memories it used to. I should’ve listened.”

  “Mick Canton is going to destroy this place,” Liam said.

  “He will.” Glenda absently patted Liam’s hand and stared out at the pool as if in a trance. “But in doing so, he might take Inez down.”

  “And Katie,” said Liam.

  “Death is sad business. And the afterlife is no life at all. You’ll be okay, Liam.”

  Liam rubbed his eyes. “Not without Pops.”

  Glenda played with her long beaded necklace. “Leo Breyer has made many bad choices in his life. But murder isn’t one of them. I don’t, for a second, believe he did such a thing, no matter what he confessed to.”

  “I know he didn’t do it,” said Liam.

  “Then why’d he confess?”

  “To protect me. I got into trouble with Mick, and I think Pops is covering for me.”

  Glenda focused on Liam. “If that’s the case, then Mick must’ve asked him to. Which means—”

  “Mick’s guilty of murdering Inez.”

  “Or he’s involved in the crime at least.”

  Glenda gently tilted Liam’s chin up toward her. “You and Autumn have to figure this out. Together.”

  “How?”

  Glenda let go and rose from the bench. “First, you both must start with an apology.”

  #

  After Autumn heard rummaging in the attic and went to check it out, she found Liam stacking boxes and sweeping dust from the corners.

  Her heart ached at the sight of him. His biceps flexed as he worked, and she wanted to go to him and put his arms around her. She wasn’t going to see him ever again. Once Evelyn relocated to El Paso and Autumn moved in with her father, there was no reason for her to return to the Keys. The thought unnerved her. Weeks ago, all she wanted was to leave the oppressive humidity of Florida, and now the idea of moving back to the northeast gave her chills—and not the good kind.

  Autumn coughed loudly as Liam kept on sweeping. “I’ve known you were standing there for the last minute. I can feel your presence in a room.”

  His words were like an arrow through her chest. “I wasn’t trying to startle you.”

  “I’m not fragile, you know?”

  “I know. What are you doing here?” She winced at the roughness of her words. “I don’t want you to get in trouble with my mom.”

  “She texted me and told me she needed help cleaning out the attic. For the sale. I need the money to help pay Mr. Fletcher. He’s giving me a huge discount, but I won’t take a handout.”

  “Oh.” The sale. Autumn had lived at the Cayo for less than a year, but she couldn’t imagine this place belonging to anyone but her Aunt Glenda. She blurted out, “I’m so sorry about everything.”

  “Don’t be. If anything, I should be apologizing to you.” He cleared this throat. “About Victoria.” Liam leaned the broom against the unfinished wall and glanced out the window. A warm breeze flowed into the attic and ruffled Liam’s hair. “I didn’t mean for us to kiss.” He shook his head. “I do know. I was drinking and—”

  Autumn navigated her way to Liam. She wiped some dust from on an old box and sat down, the cardboard bucking under her weight. She hoped Aunt Glenda’s fine china wasn’t packed inside.

  He turned to her. “I’m a mess, Autumn. I was feeling sorry for myself, and I let my guard down. I don’t deserve a nice girl like you.” Liam wiped dirt off his face with the back of his hand. “The worst part is I made Pops think I was ashamed of him. And now he’s copped to a crime he didn’t commit to protect me.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Randall called to say Mick has given him a reprieve and his blessing to start our scooter business. He isn’t going to report us to the police. I could’ve been charged with grand larceny. I’m telling you. Pops confessed to help my sorry ass build a business.”

  “Which means Mick asked him to,” Autumn said.

  “Because he killed her.”

  Autumn bit her lip. “Maybe.”

  “What do you mean, maybe? He’s involved in Inez’s murder. I can feel it in my bones. Based on everything we know, Mick is the most likely suspect. He was jealous. Not to mention Inez lied to him about miscarrying.”

  “And she claimed to have sold his ring.”

  “Based on that evidence—”

  “Mick is her killer.”

  An object hit the floor, startling them. Autumn jumped. She padded over to a corner of the attic and saw the brown leather book. Uncle Duncan’s high school yearbook.

  “I thought Timothy had packed it away. It’s just my uncle’s yearbook. His mother sent him to boarding school in Connecticut.”

  Liam bent down to pick it up and put it back in the box just as Timothy rushed into the attic. He wiped a line of perspiration from his lip.

  “You’re sweating!” cried Autumn, not hiding her surprise.

  “Yes, it happens during times of stress,” Timothy said.

  Liam nodded at Timothy. “What’s going on?”

  Timothy put his hands on his hips and exhaled. “I came up to tell you Mr. Blazevig collapsed. The neighbor found him, and he’s in the hospital.”

  Autumn and Liam shared a look before hustling down the stairs.

  #

  Autumn hated hospitals. During Career Week at her high school, Evelyn tried to convince Autumn that nursing would make for an excellent profession. A job that could sustain her through all phases of her life. But Autumn could never get past the septic smell of a hospital. The beeping of machines. The cold tile. The looming death. The ghosts.

  Now, Autumn paced around the nurses’ station on the ICU floor, waiting for someone to acknowledge her. She shouldn’t have even been allowed up here, but Timothy distracted the security guard with some serious flirting while Liam parked the car.

  Autumn adjusted the strap on her backpack and addressed the dark-haired nurse in her most adult voice. “Can you please tell me what room Mr. Ralph Blazevig is in?”

  The nurse narrowed her eyes at Autumn. “Are you family?”

  “Granddaughter,” Autumn said without missing a beat.

  The nurse, whose nametag read Debbie, softened her expression. “Your mom visited earlier. He’s in room three-twelve.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Just be aware, your grandpa is hooked up to a lot of machines. He’s also heavily sedated.”

  Autumn nodded. She swallowed hard and made her way down the hall. She passed an open door where she glimpsed a gray-haired woman sitting on the bed covers, gently patting the man’s hand in the hospital bed. Autumn shivered.

  When Autumn arrived at room 312, she rapped on the heavy door, not even knowing if it mattered. Could Mr. Blazevig hear her? No, the nurse said he was heavily sedated.

  Autumn entered the room. Mr. Blazevig lay in his hospital bed with a thin blue blanket pulled up to his chest. He wore old-fashioned pajamas, the kind she recognized from black-and-white films. His eyes were closed and his lips were cracked and dry. As he slept, a machine pumped up and down. Autumn pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed. She watched his chest rise and fall with the cadence of the machines. If she hadn’t seen him breathe, Autumn would’ve thought he was dead. This was why she didn’t like hospitals. Aside from the maternity ward, no one ever looked healthy in a hospital.

  “Your grandfather had a stroke.”

  Autumn whipped around. Debbie entered and began changing a plastic bag that hung from a tall metal pole. “Will he be okay?”

&nbs
p; “He was very dehydrated when he came in,” said Debbie. “He needs a lot of care. But I’m sure your family will be able to get him the best home care around.”

  Autumn wasn’t sure about that. She swelled with sadness. Who was going to look after poor Mr. Blazevig?

  She glanced up at the nurse. “Can he hear me?”

  “Probably not. But hearing your voice might help his brain heal. I believe that much.”

  Autumn turned around and took out some yellowed paperback books out of her bag. She held them up to show the nurse. “They’re mysteries. He loves them. He’s probably read them a hundred times.”

  Debbie patted Autumn’s knee. “You’re a real sweet girl.”

  Autumn settled into the cushion of the chair and poured herself a cup of water from the plastic pitcher. Then she selected one of the mysteries Mr. Blazevig had given her days ago. It was a collection of short stories about a detective’s secretary who solved all the cases. The pages were yellowed from age, and there was a price on the cover. Fifty cents. Autumn opened the book to the first page, saw that the copyright date said 1962, and inhaled its musty odor. She began to read. The first story had an interesting premise. A store owner goes missing and the police assume his body was dumped in the lake. Except a storm blew in, and the murderer couldn’t get on the boat, so she buried him near the fence in a vacant lot. Autumn scoffed. The secretary figured that out in three pages.

  Autumn didn’t understand the appeal. These were dime-store mysteries. She thought for sure Mr. Blazevig would like newer releases. Even her mom liked a good Grisham novel every once in a while. In Mr. Blazevig’s books, the characters still used rotary phones.

  Autumn was halfway done with a story about a librarian who murdered a patron when Timothy and Liam entered.

  Autumn set the book down and glanced up. “That took you a while.”

  Timothy adjusted the strap on his heavy messenger bag before smoothing the back of his hair. “Girl, I got his phone number and his family history. That boy loves to talk.”

  Liam pulled up a chair and nodded at Mr. Blazevig. “How’s he doing?”

  Autumn sighed. A bubble of hurt crawled up her throat, causing her to choke on the words. “Not too good. He needs someone to care for him.”