Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 03 - Paint Me a Murder by Darlene Franklin Page A

the police. “See you in a few.”
    Jenna and I arrived at the same time. We heard Dina and Audie discussing her script for the Grace Gulch Gold production on stage.
    “What do you think—should we go with vignettes about the different cultures that make up our town? I think it might be fun to do something about the Sac-Fox nation.”
    “I don’t know. People might like to see some of the more colorful moments in Grace Gulch History. Like the legend of Larry Grace’s lost treasure and the Romeo and Juliet story of Louella Grace and Louis Hardy.”
    I wished they would make up their minds. I was running out of time to provide costumes for the play.
    “We’re here!” I called out.
    “Jenna!” Dina ran and hugged her. “What did they say?”
    Jenna sank into one of the plush seats at the front of the auditorium. “They weren’t asking me about the murder. I guess that’s good.”
    “But?” I prompted.
    “They seem to think I should know something about the recent increase in drug traffic.”
    I sputtered, and Audie laughed. “Why would they think that?” He managed.
    “You should have seen the chief.”
    I could picture the scene. Reiner’s Roosevelt-mustache quivering while he paced the floor in a menacing manner.
    “He said drugs started flooding in—his words, I swear—about the time I arrived in town. And surely I have connections to some drug organization south of the border after all those years in New Mexico. All artists are a drug-happy lot, at least in his opinion. If only he knew.” She managed a weak smile. “I made a point of only working with sober artists. Drugs destroy talent faster than anything. But of course, Reiner threw my history with drugs back in high school in my face.”
    I could almost hear her thoughts. Will I ever live that down?
    “Well, if he ever tries to talk like that around me, I’ll—” Dina gritted her teeth. “I don’t know what I’d do, but I’d give him a piece of my mind.”
    “My sweet girl, I don’t need you to defend me. Georgia did a good job of that.”
    “I suppose.” Dina’s phone trilled at that point, and she brightened. “It’s Noah!” She left the office for a moment of private conversation.
    “She’s been waiting for that call all morning.” Jenna scowled. “She hangs on his every word.”
    Dina returned, a smile on her face. “I learned something else this morning. There’s a chance Finella’s death wasn’t murder after all.”
    “What’s that?” I couldn’t believe it.
    “Well, I got a little out of Frances about the investigation.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I needed an excuse to be at the station while the Chief was grilling Jenna.”
    “What did she say?” Get to the point.
    “‘This suspense is terrible. I hope it will last.’” Audie grinned at Wilde’s wit. “All right, spill the beans. They’re not sure what caused the fire, are they?”
    “They’re pretty sure it started with a turpentine-soaked cloth. What you would expect in an artist’s studio? They don’t know whether it was accident or arson. But there’s more.”
    I swear she counted to ten before she continued. She had a good sense of drama.
    “Dr. Barber isn’t sure what killed Finella. She did inhale smoke from the fire. But she also had received a blow to her head that could have been fatal. If someone had found her in time. . .who knows? I suspect they know more but you know the police. They always hold back something.”
    I ran my fingers through my hair—never a good idea, with its tendency to stand on ends like dandelion stalks—and thought through the implications. “So she could have died accidentally. Fallen and hit her head and maybe knocked over something that started the fire.”
    We stewed over that. Audie spoke up. “Or someone might have knocked her on the head and left her to die. That’s murder. The same person could have started a fire on purpose to hide what happened.”
    “Or someone else could have started