Page 76 of Disarming Caine

Keep moving, Sam. Ignore them.

One foot on the top of the staircase and Irene was right behind me.

“While we’re up here, let’s sneak up to the attic.” She batted her ridiculously long fake eyelashes at Antonio. “It’s also newly renovated and would make a perfect studio for an artist.”

“Fantastico,” said Antonio, caressing a hand down my arm as he passed me.

Irene continued talking as she led us through a door next to the bedroom and up a flight of stairs.

The attic space was narrow, with a slanted roof and ceiling low enough Antonio could touch it without effort. The space ran the length of the house, with finished surfaces and windows at either end. Despite the room being clean and obviously new, it was full of clutter. Upholstered wing chairs, a few old laptops, and a bookcase stacked with books so musty I could smell them as we walked past.

The walls and ceiling were matte white, reflecting light from the small windows and the one overhead light fixture.

“What do you think?” I asked Antonio as I paced the length of the room, searching for anything the right size, but finding nothing. “You can still hurry us through the rest of the house?”

“Certainly.” Irene headed for the stairs, but Antonio remained stationary, staring the length of one long wall.

I approached him, touching his arm. I’d never seen him do this before. “Antonio?”

The doorbell rang and Irene said, “Shoot. That must be my photographer—he’s early. I’ll have to see you out.”

“Too bad,” said Antonio, tearing his gaze away from the wall. “I like what I’ve seen so far, but we’ll have to tour the rest. When’s the open house?”

Irene’s eyes lit up, either at the promise of seeing him again or possibly at the wad of cash he could use to purchase the house outright. “I’m holding an invitation-only showing next weekend. I’ll add you to the list. Same phone number?”

“Sì. And do you think you could provide a floor plan when we return?”

“I can.” She saw us to the front door and let her photographer in, making small talk with Antonio the whole way.

I trailed a few steps behind, poking my head into the living room at the bottom of the stairs. The frame I’d been searching for wasn’t there.

That made two paintings removed from the walls and hidden from the real estate listing. It was still all conjecture, but the odds were high that at least two of the paintings Felicia’s boyfriend bought at the pawnshop were from the LA theft.

But where were they?

AntoniostartedtheSUVand turned on the seat heaters, running a hand through his hair. “You realize this will make the rounds, sì? That I was secretly married in Napoli?”

“You used that line yesterday.”

“With a stranger. But Irene? She knows many of the same people I do.”

I put my hand on his arm. “Sorry, I hadn’t thought about that.”

“I suppose we’ll simply have to carry through with it.” He flung his hands up and smirked at me when I scowled. “Seriously, though. Did you get the information you were looking for?”

“Neither the bedroom nor the living room paintings are still up. It’s possible they just moved them, but if an interior designer hung them in her own house for listing photos… odds are, they were in the best locations when the original pictures were taken.”

“Good point.”

“And what was up in the attic? You spaced right out.”

He turned away from me to point at the house. “Look at the roof. There’s a dormer on the left side, at the same height as the gable window of the attic.”

I leaned forward, looking around him. “I was so focused on the rooms, I hadn’t thought about it.”

“And how much light came into the attic from the dormer window?” He turned back to me, his lip crawling up into a smirk.

“None!”

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