Framed and Burning (Dreamslippers Book 2) by Lisa Brunette Page A

anything,” Mick put in.
    “It doesn’t have to,” said Grace.
    “But we can’t take it back with us,” Cat said. “On the plane. When we go home.”
    “We’ll give it as a gift to Ernesto,” Grace said, right as the idea came to her. “He’d like it. And doesn’t it fit well in his cottage?”
    “I’ll give you that,” said Mick. “Art shouldn’t match your couch, but this one does.”
    “Oh, stop it,” said Grace. “You’re such a snob, Mickey.”
    “Now listen to what’s going on with the case,” Cat insisted. She and Mick filled Grace in on what had happened with Jenny Baines.
    Grace was surprised to hear of the development. “Do you think she could have killed Donnie?” She directed her question at Mick.
    “No,” Mick said. “At least not directly.”
    “We were talking about that when you came in,” explained Cat. “Mick thinks whatever she said to Donnie Hines, plus the selfie she sent, drove him to drink more than his usual that night.”
    “Of the two of us, I’m more the drinker,” Mick said.  
    “Yes, I know.” Grace shook her head at Mick.  
    Grace closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the scene they’d described to her, especially Jenny’s desire to hurt Donnie. She pictured Jenny hanging up on him. Then Donnie throwing his phone in the car and heading up to the studio, where he would have found Mick’s just-opened bottle of Bushmill’s. He drank too much and went to lie down on the cot. As a diabetic, his body wouldn’t be able to handle it. He wouldn’t have heard the arsonist. The fire didn’t wake him up; he’d died in his sleep.
    “So what did you find out about Candace Shreveport?” Cat said.
    “She signs her paintings Candy Port, ” Grace said, pointing to her stylized curly-Q signature. “But that does not an arsonist make.”
    “Have you eliminated her as a suspect?” Mick said.
    Grace could tell from his tone that he hoped she had. “No,” she said. His face fell.
    “I swear to God, if that woman killed Donnie—”
    “Don’t say anything you wouldn’t want to have come true.” Grace stopped him and motioned to the living room, where Cat had set up a sort of temporary office. “I see you got the files from the Miami PD.”
    “Yes,” said Cat. “It took a bit of bargaining, however. I said we’d share our own research with Alvarez and her team.”
    “Good work, Cat. It’s always better when people work together, isn’t it?”
    Her granddaughter gave her a begrudging nod.  
    Grace was glad Cat was losing some of her territoriality. If she had let more people help her on that Missouri case, they might have caught Anita Briggs sooner… Ah, well. That was Grace’s own judgment creeping in. She’d have to let that one go.
    “And you?” Grace prompted her little brother. “Have you found your way to the canvas again?”
    “No, I haven’t. But seeing Candy Port’s masterpiece here made me realize something.”
    “What’s that?” Grace asked, pleased that the painting was having whatever effect it was meant to have.
    “Well, that and my heart-to-heart with Cat here. If all I see when I stare at the canvas is Donnie, then that’s what I should paint.”
    With a newly determined flourish, he turned and disappeared into the lanai, shutting the double glass doors for privacy. He pulled the curtain shut.
    “Let me make you some tea and a snack,” Cat said to Grace, leading her to the kitchen counter delicately by her arm. “You must be exhausted from your trip. And I’ll catch you up on things here.”
    “I am.” Grace sat on a bar stool. Her back was kinked up from the drive, which a bit of yoga outside on the sundeck would cure, but first she needed that tea and snack. She listened intently as Cat filled her in on her visit with Chester Canon and their conversations with Alvarez. When she got to the part about investigating whether Donnie was the intended victim, Grace perked up.  
    “Wonderful,” she said. “Let them