Plan B

Chapter Twenty-seven

“What did she tell you, then?” Freddie challenged.

Brookie merely smiled at him.  “Why don’t you tell me?”

He did, practically word for word.  The remainder of his hot chocolate was turning cold by the time he finished, and he downed it in an effort to soothe his nerves while he waited for Brookie to respond.  The other boy was deep in thought, and Freddie thought he recognised a hint of the way Brookie played a character showing remorse or sorrow from the screen.

“I think I’ve been too harsh on her,” he murmured eventually.  “She’s a genius.  An absolutely insane bloody genius.”

Freddie couldn’t help putting up his hand.  “Uh, no offence, but your behaviour in regards to my sister is giving me whiplash, and I’m really worried about what you’re going to do with this information.”

“That depends.”

Freddie groaned.  “On what?”

Brookie drew out an iPad from a backpack that he’d stowed beneath the table.  “I presume you know about the murders that have been going on in the surrounding area.”

“Yes…?”  Freddie frowned, wondering where Brookie was going with this.

“There are some people who think that Fran might be involved with them.”

“They’re idiots,” Freddie said with finality.  “Fran would have to have been a ninja to be able to get to all the places and kill all those girls.”

“The police are investigating the possibility of gang crime.”

Freddie sat back and folded his arms.  “I know.”

“And the other problem is that Fran is suspected as the murderer.”

Freddie slumped down in his seat, pouting sullenly.  “You just said that.”

“No, I mean that Fran’s alias, Frankie,  is suspected as the murderer.”

“What?”

Brookie slid the iPad across the table to show Freddie a news article that he’d pulled up.

“The police interviewed her briefly,” Brookie informed him as Freddie skimmed the article, “but nothing much happened, so I’m assuming they didn’t think they had a strong enough lead.”

Freddie looked up briefly.  “But she didn’t do it.”

“How do you know?”

“She’s my sister.  I’ve known her since I was born – she wouldn’t do something like that.”  Brushing his hair wearily out of his eyes, Freddie returned to the iPad.

Brookie cocked his head inquisitively to one side.  “Would you say you’re the person who’s closest to her?”

“Yup.”

“Is there any possibility of her having a mental health disorder?  Specifically something like DID?”

Freddie glanced up at him.  “Come again?”

“Multiple Personality Disorder,” Brookie clarified.  “Is there any possibility that she suffers from it?”

Freddie bit his lip and then shrugged.  “Don’t know much about it, to be honest, but I think I would have noticed if she started claiming to be more than one person.”  He tapped absentmindedly at the screen and peered down at the new article that was showing.