He met Ivy’s gaze. “That’s between you two. Just continue whatever you’re doing in daylight. And give me a call before you start, so I know not to respond to any more concerned citizen reports.”
Ivy nodded, understanding his point of view. “I wasn’t thinking about that.”
Shelly put a hand on her hip. “Go easy on Ives. She was only thinking about our mansplaining brother and his partner in crime.”
Clark motioned for them to follow him. “Like I said, if Amelia Erickson buried something here, it’s waited this long. It can wait until daylight.”
Hastily, Shelly and Ivy shoved dirt back into the hole, tamped it down, and scraped dry leaves over it all.
Clark walked them back to Ivy’s car, waiting as they placed the shovels in the trunk. Ivy started the engine, breaking the quiet night.
“Drive safely,” Clark said. “And ladies? Next time you plan a covert operation, consider that Darla watches this area like it’s her personal domain. She’ll see you, even if you dress in dark clothes like a bunch of bandits.”
Ivy managed a weak smile. “So noted.”
Clark stood beside his patrol car, waiting until they left.
As Ivy pulled away, Poppy broke the silence. “What now?”
Ivy glanced at Shelly in the rearview mirror. “We come back after the weekend.”
Her sister leaned forward. “But we’re so close. How about in the morning?”
“We have guests,” Ivy said. “That means breakfast, the morning walk, and yoga classes.”
“Don’t forget the early check-in family,” Poppy added. “We can’t all disappear without explanation and leave Sunny in charge.”
Ivy checked the time. “We might as well go to the book club now.”
Shelly and Poppy muttered their agreement, so she turned toward Ginger’s cottage, the Chevy’s headlights cutting through the darkness. “Let’s circle back next week on a slow day. Sunny can watch the inn when it’s quiet.”
“And if we don’t find anything?” Poppy asked.
“Then Forrest and Bennett get to say, ‘I told you so,’ and we move on.” Ivy pulled up outside the cottage, where laughter spilled from open windows. “But if there is something...”
Shelly opened her door. “Then we’ll have found it first.”
“Don’t forget the books,” Ivy said.
She wondered how they would manage the next few days thinking about what Amelia Erickson might have buried beneath the future library.
Would Clark mention this to Bennett? She might have to let her husband in on this operation after all. Their actions might have been foiled tonight, but soon enough they’d find out what had been buried there.
Tonight, the book club meeting was more about planning for the upcoming holiday season in Summer Beach than discussing the book they’d read, although they did that, too.
After the meeting, Ivy piled into the car with Shelly and Poppy. She would drop off Shelly before returning to the inn.
As they passed Java Beach, Shelly sat up and pointed. “Oh, my gosh, what happened? The outdoor chairs have been thrown all over the place. Ivy, pull over. I’ve got to call Mitch.”
Poppy looked out. “And look at the building. We should call the chief, too. Maybe it’s a robbery.”
Ivy pulled to a stop, gaping at the side of the building. Far from graffiti or urban folk art, angry slashes of black spray paint were hastily rendered and deeply disturbing. Last year, Mitch hired a local artist to paint a charming vintage beach scene on the side of the building.
Mitch answered, and Shelly put him on speakerphone. “Mitch, something happened at Java Beach.” Quickly, she told him what they saw.
Keys jangled in the background, and Mitch’s voice was stern. “Call the police. Stay away, and don’t go in there. I’ll come to you in a few minutes.”
“What about Daisy?”
