“She’s a troublemaker.” Bianca flipped her long hair over her shoulder, an impatient, angry gesture. “Ever since she moved in, she’s caused nothing but heartache in our family.”

“I’m sure Bobby is looking at everyone who has motives,” Frankie said.

“Even if Scott does have a motive, he didn’t do it, Frankie. And that’s what’s upsetting Kellie. Bobby seems to be focusing on him.”

“Why?” I asked.

Bianca stood up and walked over to the fireplace, holding her hands near the blaze for warmth, her back to us. She turned around and said, “I don’t know.”

She did know.

“Is it because he argued with Alex at the party?” I asked.

“He said some things he didn’t mean. Taken out of context they sound bad.”

“Whoever killed Prescott may not have wanted to do it,” I said. “It might have been something that happened in the heat of the moment, a discussion that got out of hand. An accident because someone lost their temper.”

Bianca gave me a weary look. “It’s still involuntary manslaughter. Either way, you go to jail. If you want to know who I think did it, I’d bet it was Alex.”

“Why her?” Frankie asked.

“She’s the one with the temper. Everyone knows that.” Her mouth twisted. “Plus she wasn’t happy to be dragged home from New York. Or maybe it was Grant.”

The conversation had strayed a long way from Bianca telling us Kellie needed a few days off from work. Now she was spilling family secrets to Frankie and me. I wondered why.

“Wait a minute. You mean Grant Lowry? The Trib’s managing editor? Why him?” I asked.

“I think he believed that with Clayton gone, he’d be able to exert more influence over the paper,” Bianca said. “Except Prescott kept sticking his nose in and bigfooting Grant. He didn’t like it and he wasn’t shy about saying so and pushing back.”

Nothing Bianca had said just now had exonerated any of Bobby’s three principal suspects: Clay, Scott, or Alex. Not only that, but she seemed to have purposely added Victoria, Grant, and Celia Avery to the list.

She picked up her jacket and scarf. “I’d better go,” she said, slipping on the jacket. “Thanks for the water and for understanding about Kellie. I’ll tell her what you said. I know she’ll appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Frankie said. “Please tell her we were asking about her.”

“If there’s anything we can do—” I said.

Bianca’s eyes flashed again. “There is,” she said and this time there was an unmistakable edge in her voice. “Pray for Bobby to find out who really did it. The real murderer.”