Ivy’s heart thudded with anxiety. Whatever Carlotta had to say, she would tell her family first. Ivy had to brace herself for the worst.
Between her mother’s possible illness, the hovering tax collector, and now the FBI, Ivy was afraid this summer was shaping up to be truly unforgettable.
Chapter 19
IVY FLICKED THE lights on and led the FBI team to the lower level. Agents Cecile Dupont and Ari Steinberg were decidedly low key. Dark suits, plain black pumps for her, and black dress shoes for him. Which meant they stuck out like the plainclothes FBI agents they were here in Summer Beach.
Eyeing a coffee cup in Cecile’s hand that bore a Java Beach imprint, Ivy wondered how long it would take for gossip to ricochet around the small town.
The FBI agents had arrived a half hour early, before Bennett and Chief Clarkson had promised to meet them at the house. From their line of questioning, she suspected that might have been intentional.
As they made their way down the stairs, Cecile asked, “When was the first time you saw these paintings?” Her tone was pleasant but brisk.
“Just a couple of days ago,” Ivy said as she descended. “Watch your step.”
“So the doorway we walked through was bricked over, but do you know for how long?” Ari asked, mirroring Cecile’s tone. He carried a black, hard plastic case, which Ivy guessed held the tools of their trade.
“I inherited the house from my late husband’s estate a year ago. I’m sure it was like that when he bought it.”
Ari continued. “But if the first time you saw the house was two weeks ago, as you stated, then you can’t be sure the entry was bricked up when your husband acquired the house.”
“You’re right. I don’t know.” Ivy realized she needed to listen to their questions and give precise answers.
“So it’s possible that your husband might have stored the artwork there and put the bricks in place,” Cecile added.
Did they suspect Jeremy? Or her? A cloud of nerves enveloped her. “We kept the bricks to reuse. They’re stacked near the house if you want to inspect them. The wallpaper that covered the bricks is in the trashcan.”
“We appreciate that,” Ari said. “Did your husband tell you about the bricked entryway?”
“No,” Ivy answered. Was that a trick question? “He didn’t even tell me he’d bought the house.”
Cecile’s left eyebrow twitched slightly at that, but she said nothing.
Ivy led them to the artwork. “The framed paintings are in the crates standing upright. The unframed canvases are in the flat files.” She tapped the top of the sturdy wooden file case.
“Have you removed any paintings?” Cecile asked.
“Only with the police officer to photograph them, but we put everything back.”
The two agents traded a look. Cecile said, “We’ll be here for some time. We need to catalog and inspect every painting.”
Ivy knew she was being dismissed. “If there’s anything you need—coffee, or—”
“We’re good,” Cecile said, holding up her Java Beach cup.
“Right.” Ivy pointed upstairs. “I’ll be up there if you need me.”
“You’ve been very helpful,” Ari said.
Ivy climbed the stairs, and just before she reached the entry to the kitchen, she pulled up short to avoid running into Bennett. Teetering on the top step, she let out a little cry, and he caught her by the forearms to steady her. “I didn’t see you,” she said.
“That was close,” Bennett said. “You could’ve fallen backward down the stairs.” Behind him stood Chief Clarkson.
Bennett held her arms a little longer than seemed necessary. As she stared back at him, she felt a shift inside of her, a tug on her heart that she hadn’t felt in…years. What’s happening to me?
Bennett led her into the kitchen, his hand lightly touching her elbow. When he finally let go, he moved his hand protectively around to the small of her back. It was all Ivy could do to catch her breath. The feelings that he’d nudged from dormancy during their conversation by her car now notched up another level.
“Shelly let us in,” Bennett said, his voice sounding deeper in the sparsely furnished room. “I saw a rental car out front. The FBI team is already here?”
“Downstairs,” Ivy managed to say, tilting her head toward the staircase. “They’re through with me for now.”
“We’ll check in with them,” Bennett said. “You can stay up here.”
Ivy nodded, fighting to process the powerful feelings that were surging through her.
Bennett and Chief Clarkson made their way downstairs, and Ivy slid onto a stool next to Shelly.
“I’m in desperate need of more coffee,” Ivy said.
“Just put on a fresh pot. Figured we could use it.” Shelly shifted on the stool. “About the other day. What you said about Mitch.”
Ivy waved Shelly’s comment away. “That wasn’t my place.”
“No, it is.” Shelly swiveled to face her. “Sisters look out for each other. We should always be honest with each other, even if it hurts. This is the rest of our lives, and we can’t mess up anymore.” Shelly took Ivy’s hand. “I’m sorry I got so upset.”
“I shouldn’t have been so direct.”
“You had to be to cut through my infatuation fog.”
Ivy grinned. “Mitch is cute.”
“Isn’t he?” Shelly sighed. “And ten years younger than I am. He’s probably not even ready for children. But I’m a ticking time bomb.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Don’t back off now. If I ever want a family, I have to be practical.” Shelly got up to pour coffee and brought two cups back. When she returned, she said, “So how about you? You’ve already had your kids. I know it’s only been a year, but do you ever look at a man and think you might marry again?”
Ivy was sipping her coffee as Shelly spoke, and she gulped too fast at her last comment. “Why in the world would you ask that?” she managed to say between coughing fits.
“You okay?”
Ivy shook her head. She was definitely not okay. And Bennett Dylan had everything
