Dead and Breakfast (17 page)

“Too ripe. By the time the guests arrive, these won’t be fit for a dog.” He made a big point of glancing at Liam as he said this.

Liam exhaled. “This is taking forever.”

Timothy clucked his tongue. “Be thankful you’re out of the Cayo for an afternoon, and you don’t have Evelyn breathing down your neck.”

It never occurred to Liam that Timothy would find Evelyn overbearing. He thought she just had it out for him. “Does she bug you too?”

Timothy plucked a bunch of bananas that were neither green nor beginning to brown, and put them in the cart. “She’s been on my case all week to get that website done. But she wants to be made aware of every change I make. I can’t be micromanaged like that.” He glanced at Liam. “Of course, in your case, she’s just being a mama grizzly with you.”

Liam picked up three apples from a nearby table and juggled them. “What does that mean?”

“It means Evelyn sees how you ogle Autumn. She’s protecting her baby.”

Liam caught the apples in rapid succession. “I don’t ogle Autumn. I just like her is all.”

“A lot.”

“Yeah, a lot. So?” Liam put the apples back down on the table.

“So, lover boy, Ms. Evelyn just got out of a long marriage to a man who cheated on her. My guess is she hates all men, myself excluded, right now. Besides, isn’t Miss Autumn going to college in New Jersey next year?”

“Well, you never know. She might stick around.”

Timothy made a check mark on the shopping list and then gave Liam a pointed look. “Please. The girl may sweat you a little, but don’t be thinking she’s going to give up her dream of returning home for your bony ass.”

Liam clutched his chest and feigned hurt. “Thanks.”

“Just sayin’.” Timothy nodded toward the meat department. “Come on. We’ve got a ton more to buy and my mama ain’t getting any younger.”

Liam followed Timothy with the cart. But his childlike antics had dissipated, and he couldn’t get Timothy’s words out of his head.

Don’t be thinking she’s going to give up her dream of returning home for you.

That was just Liam’s luck with women, wasn’t it? He was never good enough for them to stick around.

Autumn sat at her desk in her bedroom and tapped the pen against the notebook. It was hard to focus on her AP History homework when she wanted to focus on Liam instead. Autumn had to admit that there was no Liam Breyer in New Jersey. She would definitely miss not seeing him every day when she started college next fall.

Lunch had been stressful, if uneventful. Cora served up the fish Bahamian style. Mrs. Paulson complained as much as she always did. The knife was dirty. Her water had specks floating in it. The dinner was served too late. But she couldn’t complain about the delicious food.

Mr. Fletcher, on other hand, voiced nothing but compliments. Autumn could tell the man hadn’t been taken care of in a long time. She wondered when he had last eaten a vegetable. Autumn’s mother visibly relaxed in front of Mr. Fletcher and tensed up whenever Mrs. Paulson so much as cleared her throat. It was enough to drive anyone over the edge. But then Autumn thought back to her afternoon at the pier with Liam, and a sly smile crept up on her face.

Autumn shook her head in an attempt to focus on her schoolwork. Goosebumps erupted on her arm.

“Ugh, homework,” Katie said, appearing from nowhere. “That’s one thing I don’t miss about being alive. But seeing that dreamy look on your face tells me you weren’t thinking about homework just then.” Katie wagged her brows. “You want to make out with Liam, don’t you?”

“Seriously?” asked Autumn.

Katie’s lips curved into a pout. “What? You’re not going to confide in me? Don’t you think he’s groovy?”

Suddenly, Autumn’s cell phone buzzed. She swiped it off the desk, assuming it was Natasha giving her a play-by-play of Homecoming events. Her friend had been texting more often ever since Autumn sent an email about Liam.

Whatcha up to?
Liam texted.

Autumn smiled, a rosy glow erupting on her cheeks. She wrote back,
Homework. You?

Definitely not homework. Going to see Randall tomorrow.

Give him hell for me.

You know I will.

Katie read over Autumn’s shoulder and squealed, “You’re flirting! Reminds me of letters passed around at school. Do people do that anymore?”

Autumn nodded as she typed. “Some do.”

There was a moment before Liam responded.
Night, Autumn.
She wrote back good night, before setting down the phone.

“He’s totally into you,” said Katie. “I bet he’s a good kisser.”

Autumn felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

Katie squealed. “Ooh! I knew it. You kissed him. Tell me everything.”

“No way.”

“Who am I going to blab to?”

“Fair enough.” She turned to Katie. “Well—” But then the phone buzzed again. Autumn picked it up and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Katie asked.

Autumn held up the cell phone’s screen so Katie could read the message.

Send my love to the pretty blonde ghost.

Katie grinned and glowed brighter than she had in days. “Autumn, don’t mess this up.”

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?