“I’ll wait here, be with him. You go back upstairs and find someone.” He gave me a small nudge. “Go on, honey. The party’s breaking up so more people will have left. It will be easier to handle everything discreetly. I’m sure the family will want to keep this news private for a while before they have to make an announcement.”

I nodded. The death of philanthropist and media billionaire Prescott Avery would make not only local and national news, it would make international news.

This time when I left the wine cellar I knew which way to go in the maze of corridors to get back to the elevator. With Prescott gone, Clayton was now the head of the Avery family. He was the person I needed to find first.

If I hadn’t been so focused on looking for him, I probably wouldn’t have collided—almost literally—with Kit’s husband Bobby Noland who was deep in conversation with Dr. Winston Churchill Turnbull. I turned the corner into the dining room and didn’t see them standing next to the French doors, which had been thrown open to accommodate the many party guests.

Bobby grabbed my arm to keep me from crashing into him and Win. “Whoa, Lucie. Where’s the fire? What’s going on?”

Bobby was a senior detective with the Loudoun County Sheriff’s Office and Win was our newest medical examiner who, at age seventy-four, had recently returned from a year of volunteering at a military hospital in Iraq. It was only a matter of time before the two of them ended up downstairs, not as guests of the Averys, but because of who they were and what had happened.

“Lucie.” Win’s expression was kind but concerned. “What is it?”

Bobby gave me a sharp-eyed look. He and I had known each other since he was seven and I was five. There wasn’t much I could put past him, so I didn’t even try.

“I’m looking for Clayton,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Prescott had a bad fall in his wine cellar downstairs. It looks like he hit his head on the edge of a glass coffee table … there’s a lot of blood. I’m afraid he’s dead.”

Bobby and Win exchanged glances.

“Were you with him when it happened?” Bobby asked.

“No.”

“You’re sure he’s dead?” This from Win.

“Yes.”

“Does anybody else know about this?” Bobby said.

“Quinn,” I said. “He’s there with Prescott now. I was trying to find Clayton when I ran into you.”

Another coded look passed between Win and Bobby.

“Look,” Bobby said, “you obviously know where this wine cellar is so why don’t you take Win there and I’ll find Clayton. I’ll tell Clay what happened. We’ll join you as soon as we can, okay?”