“Prescott Avery’s death is already going to be a big story. If there’s something weird or odd about the way he died, it’s going to turn into a soap opera drama. And if you were downstairs, you know something.”

“We sort of got an ultimatum,” I said. “They want to do all the talking.”

“As bad as that?” She was mad.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Look, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure. Shoot. I’ll answer you if I can.” Still pissed off.

She finished her coffee and set the mug down on a windowsill ledge with a sharp click. Outside the window, the gardens and sprawling terraces were now unsubstantial dark shapes on a darker landscape.

“How many people knew Prescott was probably going to announce that he wanted to sell the Trib at tomorrow’s board meeting?”

She looked surprised by the question. Then she exploded. “Are you kidding me? Every newsroom in the world leaks like a damn sieve and we’re no different. Everyone and his grandmother knew about that rumor. It’s all anyone was talking about this afternoon—at least among the Tribbies who were at the party.” She paused as the puzzle pieces slid into place. “So there is something to Prescott’s death, isn’t there?”

I remained mute, but by now she knew as well as I did: How convenient for those who didn’t want to sell that Prescott died before that meeting. In other words, a lot of people who’d been at today’s feijoada wouldn’t be unhappy that Prescott Avery could no longer force a sale of the Washington Tribune.

A waitress walked past the three of us, picked up Kit’s coffee mug, and nodded, a polite smile on her face that said we were overstaying our welcome. The party was over.

I felt Quinn’s hand on the small of my back. “Time to go,” he said.

“Wait.” Kit held up her hand. “At least tell me what you were doing down there. I’m sure there’s no gag order on that.”

Quinn flashed me a warning look. “Prescott invited me downstairs because he wanted to buy some of our wine,” I said, dodging her real question. “I’m sure now the deal is off, so it doesn’t matter anymore. And I accidentally left my phone in the wine cellar so Quinn and I went back to get it.”

“You were the ones who found him. And he was already dead.” She spoke like these were established facts, not questions requiring answers.

I nodded. “I came upstairs to find Clay, but I ran into Bobby and Win first,” I said. “We left after the family showed up. I’m sure Clay can tell you everything else that you need to know.”