A Different Shade Of Death: A Cozy Mystery Ghost Story (Storage Ghost Murders Book 2) Read online

  A Storage Ghost Murder Mystery

  A Different Shade of Death

  Chapter 1

  “Are you sure I can’t come with you?” Grace asked.

  Frankie pulled his jacket on. “I told you, the shop is too busy. Anyway, I thought you didn’t like going to the storage locker auctions. You always complain that it’s boring and that the other bidders smell.”

  Grace looked down at the shop counter. She wished she could tell him the truth. But how could she tell him that she wanted to go to the auction to look for ghosts? And not just any old ghosts but ones that had been murdered. Frankie was her older brother and the only family that she had left but she could never tell him that.

  He gave her a push. She looked up to see him grinning. “Do you fancy someone at the auction? One of the other bidders? Go on, Grace, you can tell me.”

  Grace folded her arms. “I certainly don’t fancy anyone there! Some of them smell like they’ve been living inside a locker for months.”

  Frankie snorted. “You’re right about the smell, it sometimes offends me and I’m not fussy. Do you really want to go? We can close the shop.”

  Grace looked around their shop. They used to sell antiques but now there was a bit of everything in the shop. It depended on what they bought at the storage locker auctions as to what ended up on the shelves. There were customers milling around the shop at the moment. Grace hadn’t seen that for a while. People seemed to like the things in the shop, one customer had said it was like Aladdin’s cave, you just never knew what you were going to find.

  Frankie had worked so hard at building the business up since Mum and Dad died, she could hardly turn customers away. And anyway, if a ghost needed her help they could wait, it wasn’t like they were going anywhere.

  Grace moved closer to Frankie and straightened his jacket collar. “You go, I’ll be fine here.” She sniffed. “You smell nice, new aftershave? Is there someone you’re trying to impress at the auction?”

  He gave her a grin. “It doesn’t hurt to look and smell my best. I’ve seen how some of those older women look at me. A cheeky smile and a wink from me puts them off their bidding.”

  Grace laughed. She wished she had his confidence. “Off you go. Tell me all about it later.”

  “Will do. See you later, alligator.”

  Frankie held the shop door open as a middle aged woman stepped through. He gave her a bright smile and said, “Good morning.”

  The woman blushed slightly and mumbled, “Good morning.”

  Frankie shot a backward look at Grace and winked.

  She shook her head as the door closed behind him. Did he have a girlfriend at the moment? They never seemed to speak about personal matters anymore, it was always things to do with the shop.

  “I’ll give you twenty pounds for this tablecloth!” an older woman said as she placed a Victorian cloth on the counter.

  Grace didn’t need to look at the price tag, she knew it was priced at £100. She shook her head, “It’s £100, Mrs Jones.”

  Mrs Jones tutted. “Your Mum and Dad would have let me have it for £20. This shop has gone downhill since you and your brother have taken over.”

  Grace gently said, “You don’t have to shop here. There’s a stall in the market that sells table cloths, you could get two for £20 there.”

  Mrs Jones looked down at the cloth. She ran a hand over the material. Her sharp eyes flicked back to Grace. “I’ll give you fifty pounds, not a penny more.”

  Grace held her smile in. Mrs Jones tried this tactic with every item that she bought. Grace had fallen victim to her sneaky tactics the first few times but she was wiser now.

  Grace pulled the tablecloth away from Mrs Jones’ hand and folded it up. She said, “It’s £100 and that’s my final price. This is Victorian, and you know it.”

  Mrs Jones glared at Grace. Grace held her stare.

  Mrs Jones burst out laughing. “All right! I’ll give you £100. You’re getting better at this, Grace.”

  The old woman paid for the tablecloth and Grace wrapped it up in tissue paper. She handed it to Mrs Jones. “Thank you for your custom, do come back.”

  Mrs Jones’ wrinkly face wrinkled up even more. “I will do, Grace love, this tablecloth is worth at least £200!”

  The old woman actually cackled as she left the shop.

  Grace shook her head.

  There was another old woman cackle behind her.

  Grace knew who it was. It was Pearl the old woman who lived in the shop.

  Well, not lived exactly, she was dead.

  Chapter 2

  Pearl was the ghost of an elderly woman, she wore a floral housecoat over a long blue dress. She was attached to the shop. She wouldn’t tell Grace anything about herself other than that she used to help ghosts when she was alive.

  Grace was still coming to terms with seeing ghosts herself and welcomed talking to Pearl about it, no one else knew that she could see dead people.

  Pearl stood at Grace’s side and nodded towards the shop door. “That Mrs Jones is a cheeky sod, she always has been. Don’t believe a word she says, she’s as wily as a fox.”

  Grace nodded. She couldn’t speak to Pearl in front of the customers.

  Pearl said, “Don’t worry about going to the auction today, you don’t always have to be there to see which locker the ghosts are in. I’ve got a feeling that the ghost is coming to you today.”

  Grace mumbled out of the corner of her mouth. “Is it the ghost of a murdered person?”

  Pearl nodded. “Oh, it certainly is. I think you’re going to have your hands full with this one. And there’s something else, you really need to know this ...”

  “Excuse me.” It was the woman who Frankie had held the door open for. She stood in front of Grace, smiling politely.

  “Yes? Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for a certain kind of item, well, items really. I was passing your shop and was drawn in. I’m not sure if what I need is in here though. It’s a lovely shop, I could spend all day looking!”

  Pearl voiced what Grace was thinking. “Get on with it!”

  Grace was thankful that no one could hear Pearl, tact wasn’t one of her strengths.

  The woman gave a nervous laugh. “Sorry, I’m not making sense. I’ve got a house that needs decorating and it’s up to me to sort everything out. I’m sure I’m going to make a complete mess of it, my husband used to say it’s a wonder I managed without him before we were married. He was good at making decisions for me. I can’t seem to decide on anything since he’s been gone.”

  Grace felt Pearl move closer. She said to Grace, “Ask her where he’s gone. Is he dead? Has he been murdered? This could be the ghost coming to us through this woman.”

  Grace had no intention of asking the woman that. Pearl had no manners.

  “What are you looking for?” Grace asked. “Is it furniture from a certain era? Decorations of a certain style?”

  The woman frowned and began to fiddle with the belt on her beige coat. “I’ve always liked the Victorian age, the deep colours and the luxury cloths. But there again, I like Art Deco things too. The thing is, my husband wanted the house to look authentic but it was built in 1820, I think that’s the Georgian era? I don’t know anything about that time period.”

  Grace smiled at the flustered woman. “I studied history at university, I’ve got lots of books on British history. You could have a look at them if you like, there are some good websites to look at too.”

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p; The woman let go of her belt. She gave Grace a relieved smile. “Oh, thank you! That’s so kind of you. Are you sure? I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble at all. The books aren’t here, I keep them at home. You could call back tomorrow and I’ll have them ready for you.”

  Grace felt her right ear going warm. She knew it was Pearl getting closer. She was the only ghost that Grace had met that radiated warmth, all the other ghosts sent chills down her body whenever they came too close.

  In an urgent voice Pearl hissed, “Go to her house! You have to go to her house!”

  Grace faltered. How was she supposed to ask that?

  She didn’t need to. The woman handed her a card and said, “Would you like to come round to the house? It’s being restored to its original condition. If you studied history you might like to see it. Sorry, was that too forward of me?”

  “No, not at all, I’d love to see it.” Grace took the card.

  The woman gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you, it’ll help having someone else there to visualise where the new items should go. There are builders there at the moment and I seem to be constantly getting in their way! Are you sure you don’t mind? I think there are some modern items that I could do with getting rid of, I could sell them to you. Oh! Sorry! That sounds like I’m trying to sell you something.”

  “We’re in the business of buying! I’d love to visit your house and if you have anything to sell I’d love to make an offer on it.”

  “You would? That’s so kind. I’d better be off. The builders will be wanting their tea, they drink endless cups of it all day long. If you think there is anything in your shop now that would fit in, please bring it along tomorrow. 10 a.m. okay?”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

  The woman flustered a bit more with her belt and then left the shop.

  There were no customers within ear shot so Grace said, “What a strange woman, she was like a frightened mouse.”

  Pearl had a grim look on her face.

  “Pearl, what’s wrong?”

  Pearl pointed to the card in Grace’s hand. “I was right, that woman is related to the murdered ghost.”

  Chapter 3

  Grace looked at the card. It was a business card.

  ‘A-Ford-Able Loans’

  The name underneath was ‘Charlie Ford’. It had been crossed out and replaced with ‘Amy Ford’.

  There was a website address, an email address and a postal address.

  Pearl tutted. “How many addresses does a person need? You only had one in my day, if you were lucky. Hang on, does that say ‘Heathville’? Isn’t that the old house up on the hill? At the top end of town?”

  Grace was still looking at the card. “It is. When I was doing my history degree I looked into local history. That house was built around 1820 by Benjamin Heath. He was a mill owner, one of the better ones. He wanted to be nearer his workers so he stayed in the town instead of moving out to the country like the rest of the rich mill owners. I’d heard that the house had been in the same family since it was built. I wonder if Amy Ford is related to the Heaths?”

  “That doesn’t sound right to me. If the house had been passed down wouldn’t the furniture have been passed down too? Why does she need new things? And what’s this about a loan business? If Amy was part of the Heath family wouldn’t she have her own money?”

  “Interesting. How do you think she’s related to the ghost that we’re supposed to see?”

  Pearl shrugged. “I don’t know everything, I know a lot but not everything. Make a list of questions and interrogate her tomorrow.”

  “I won’t! I shall have a normal conversation with her. I’ve always wanted to look inside that house. I wonder if there’s anything in the shop that I could take her?”

  Pearl wasn’t listening. “That name that’s been crossed out, Charlie Ford, I’ll bet that’s her husband. She probably murdered him, got away with it and now has his business and a big house. How did she do it? She didn’t look very strong, poison would be my best guess. What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

  “That woman didn’t look like a murderer. And we don’t even know if anyone has been murdered!”

  Pearl pressed her lips together and gave Grace a knowing look. Then she said, “I’ve been in this business long enough to trust my feelings. Everyone is capable of murder if they’re pushed far enough.”

  Grace said, “Oh, that reminds me, you were just about to tell me something before Amy Ford started talking to me. Something about ‘having my hands full’ with this next ghost.”

  Pearl’s hands suddenly flew to her head. She grimaced. “Ouch! Something’s wrong! I’m not supposed to feel pain like this.”

  Grace’s hand automatically shot out towards Pearl. It went right through her like it was passing through fog. A man walked up to the counter, he was too busy looking at a tin toy car to notice Grace’s frantic expression.

  He said, “How much for this? Have you got any more like it?”

  “What?” Grace swivelled her head towards him.

  He held the car up. “Any more like this?”

  “I ...” Grace began. She looked back to where Pearl had been standing.

  The old woman had gone.

  Chapter 4

  Pearl didn’t appear for the rest of the day. Grace was kept busy with customers all day. She ushered the last customer out at 6 p.m. and, with a sigh of relief, she locked the door.

  Within two seconds someone was bashing on the door.

  “We’re closed!” Grace yelled out.

  “It’s me!” Frankie yelled back.

  Grace opened the door. “Why didn’t you use the back door?”

  He shrugged and walked into the shop. “I couldn’t be bothered. Wait until you see what I got at auction today.”

  Grace studied her brother. “You look tired. Have you been at the auction all day? Have you eaten?”

  He waved her concerns away. “The van is parked round the back. I’ve got some awesome stuff.”

  Grace closed and locked the door again. “I’ll help you unpack.”

  They walked through the shop, into the kitchen and out into the yard. Frankie’s van was parked across the yard.

  Grace frowned. “Why didn’t you come through the back door if you parked round here?”

  Frankie gave her a confused look. “I’m not sure, guess I’m not thinking straight. I’ve got some quality stuff, Grace, just have a look at this.”

  He opened the van doors and stood back so Grace could admire his collection.

  Grace looked closer into the van. “Clothes? Racks of clothes?”

  Frankie climbed into the van. “Not just any clothes, quality clothes. Look.”

  “Is this all that you’ve bought?”

  He nodded. “I had to haggle with old Bert from the market. I got these for £1000, a real bargain.”

  Grace looked closer at Frankie. Something wasn’t right. Frankie didn’t normally buy clothes and, even though she wasn’t an expert, £1000 seemed too much for these. Was she missing something?

  Grace climbed into the van and looked closer at the clothes. They were men’s clothes, suits, shirts and trousers. She looked at the labels. Her eyebrows raised. She’d definitely heard of these designers. Perhaps Frankie had got a bargain after all. But would the people who came to their shop see it that way? Would they actually sell these clothes?

  Grace helped Frankie unload the items. It was made easier because all of the clothes were on racks. They wheeled them into the shop.

  Frankie picked up a jacket sleeve and smiled. “Quality stuff.”

  Why did he keep saying that?

  “What prices should we put on them?” Grace asked.

  Frankie released the sleeve and tapped the side of his nose. “Leave that to me, I know what to charge. I’ll get some labels and sort this out now.”

  Grace place her hand on his arm. “No, you won’t. You look exhausted. I’ll ma
ke you a cup of tea and a sandwich first.”

  Frankie shook his arm free. He gave her an angry look. “Don’t tell me what to do! I’m a business man, I know what I’m doing!”

  Grace took a step back. She’d never seen Frankie like this before. He was usually so laid back he was almost horizontal. His features didn’t look right, his eyes were flashing with anger. Something was definitely wrong here, she was beginning to suspect that something supernatural was going on.

  Grace gave Frankie a firm look and raised her voice. “Don’t talk to me like that, Frankie Abrahams! You will have a cup of tea and a sandwich. Go and sit down at the kitchen table. Now!”

  Frankie seemed to deflate, the anger vanished from his eyes. His hand flew to his forehead and rubbed it. A look of pain flashed across his face. “Sorry, Grace, I don’t know what came over me. I’ve been feeling a bit off all day.”

  “That’s okay.” Grace sat him at the kitchen table. She made his tea with decaffeinated tea bags, he could do with a good sleep. She was almost tempted to crush some herbal sleeping tablets up into his sandwich. She had a supply in her bag for the nights when grief kept her awake.

  He didn’t need the sleeping tablets, his eyes began to droop within minutes. Grace looked at the kitchen clock, it was only 7 p.m. What had he been doing to become so tired?

  Frankie yawned. “Think I’ll have a little nap before I start on those clothes. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Course not. Sleep as long as you like. You can sort the clothes out tomorrow.”

  Grace helped him to his feet. His back was bent like an old man’s. This wasn’t like Frankie at all. She even had to help him up the stairs to the room he had decided to call home - the stock room above the shop. He had furnished it with a bed and wardrobe and was quite happy living there. Grace helped him on to the bed, his eyes were almost closed.

  Frankie gave her a tired smile and said, “Thanks, sis.”

  Grace turned the light out. She could hear his snores even before she left the room.