Free 2 A Different Shade Of Death by Gillian Larkin

put her phone away and stuck her hand
out for the bus.
    Grace
climbed on and then sat on the edge of her seat willing the bus to go faster.
The driver was oblivious to her panic and whistled happily as he drove along.
    Ten
minutes later Grace ran towards the shop. A disgruntled looking woman was
standing at the door.
    Grace
put her hand on the door handle.
    “Don’t
bother! He threw me out!”
    “What?”
Grace said. She didn’t have time to chat.
    The
woman nodded towards the shop. “That rude young man in there. I was looking at
some plates and wondering if they would do as a Christmas present for our
Brenda, she’s very fussy you know, when that young man told me to get out. So
rude!”
    “Frankie?
What did he say?”
    The
woman pursed her lips and pulled her handbag closer to her chest. “He said
something about not feeling well. He did look pale but he could have waited
until I made my mind up about that plate. Just a minute, don’t you work here
too? Are you going to open up? You can let me in.”
    Grace
hesitated. Then she lied, “I can’t let you in, Frankie’s got a contagious
disease, he shouldn’t have been working today, I told him not to.”
    The
woman took a step backwards as if Grace was disease ridden too.
    Grace
carried on, “If I were you I’d go home and take a long shower. Or a bath. Have
a lie down.”
    The
woman said, “I do feel a bit funny. You’re right, I’d better go. What disease
has he got?”
    Grace
didn’t have time to be polite. She took out her shop key and quickly unlocked
the door. She shot a hurried, “Sorry,” to the woman and went into the shop,
locking the door behind her.
    The
shop lights were on, the till was open. It looked as if Frankie had been in the
middle of serving someone.
    Grace
ran through the shop and into the kitchen. She checked the toilet, Frankie
wasn’t there. She raced upstairs and into the stockroom that Frankie was
calling his home.
    There
he was, lying on the bed, his eyes closed. Grace’s breath caught, he looked
like a ghost.
    “Don’t
worry, he’s not dead. Yet.”
    “Pearl!
What’s wrong with Frankie? Is he going to be all right?”
    Pearl
sat down on the side of Frankie’s bed. “Frankie’s being affected by that ghost
of yours. I think he’s going to be fine, I hope he’s going to be all right.
I’ve seen this before, and I think I know why it’s happening.”
    Grace
moved closer to Frankie. She placed her hand on his forehead. He felt as clammy
as a cold fish.
    Pearl
said, “The person who murdered that Charlie fella is going to murder again. Are
you any closer to finding out who murdered him?”
    Grace’s
eyes prickled. “I don’t know who it is. I can’t do this, Pearl.”
    Pearl
looked up and gave her a steady look. “You can do this. You know who it is.
Just think, think about what you’ve seen and heard.”
    Grace
sank down on to the floor. She roughly wiped away a tear. This was no time to
feel sorry for herself. “What will happen to Frankie if someone else dies? Why
is this happening to him?”
    “He
got the full force of Charlie’s symptoms when he brought those clothes back
here. Is Charlie suffering too?”
    Grace
nodded.
    “The
next victim must be someone whom Charlie is close to, that must be why he’s
suffering again. You go downstairs and sit in the kitchen. Have a bit of quiet
time, I’ll look after young Francis here.”
    Grace
gave Pearl a sad smile. “That’s what my mum called him. Everyone else called
him Frankie but she insisted on Francis, she said that was his proper name.”
    “I
know. I’ve been in this shop a long time, I know how your mum spoke to him. Off
you go.”
    Grace
suddenly straightened up. “That’s it! Of course! Why didn’t I realise?”
    “Are
you going to explain yourself or do I have to guess?”
    “Mum
wouldn’t use a different name for her son, and neither would Emily. When she
spoke about her son today she called him James. That name can be shortened to
Jim!