“Like cause of death, which would be useful information.” She pulled her phone out of her trouser pocket and pushed a button. Speed dial. “I’ll ask him when I see him. And thanks for at least telling me that.”

As Quinn and I walked down the hallway I heard her say, “Grant. Talk to me. What the hell is going on? Who’s lowering the cone of silence on Prescott’s death—Clay or Scotty?”

Quinn gave me a sideways look and shook his head.

“I can’t lie,” I said when we were out of earshot. “You know that. Certainly not to Kit. When we’re together it’s like our minds meld. If I hadn’t told her, she would have just sucked the information out of my brain like she always does. I can do the same with her. Besides, do you honestly believe the Averys are going to be able to keep what really happened out of the press? Their own newspaper? Kit wouldn’t stand for publishing a false story and neither would Grant. The Washington Tribune wins Pulitzers every year because of their tenacious, honest reporting. Not even Prescott Avery is going to get a break.”

“We shouldn’t be in the middle of this.”

“We are in the middle of this. We found Prescott and I was the last person to be with him before he died.”

“Lucie, Quinn. I didn’t realize you were still here.”

We froze. Neither of us had noticed Victoria Barkley, who was striding down the hall toward us, a startled expression on her face.

Had she overheard our conversation? Had any of the staff overheard us? I flashed a quick smile and hoped I didn’t look as if she’d discovered us stealing the family silver.

Victoria’s cheeks were bright pink and her shoulder-length blond hair, which had been in a stylish updo the last time I saw her, was tousled and windblown, as if she’d just been outside.

I relaxed. She didn’t look as if she’d been paying attention to what we were saying. Maybe because, like a lot of party guests, she was a bit drunk. Or maybe because she was preoccupied with what was going on downstairs while she was still up here. As if she read my thoughts about her disheveled appearance, she pulled a couple of hairpins from her hair and used them to tuck the loose strands back into place.

“I was saying good-bye to what I thought were the last of our guests,” she said. “It’s quite cold outside now. And windy.”

“We were just leaving.” Quinn sounded apologetic. “And we can see ourselves out. No need to trouble you.”

Victoria knew about Prescott. Clay would have told her and she had been on her way to the elevator to join the others in the wine cellar when she stumbled upon us.