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 cou
