Quinn got up and picked up the fireplace poker, stirring the fire, which had burned down to glowing embers. “What made Prescott bring this up today, all of a sudden? And why the super-secret negotiation? Unless he wanted to show off his wine cellar, remind you what a serious collector he was.”

He put the poker back in its stand and sat down across from me again. “I’ve only seen one other wine cellar like that one in my lifetime and it was in a fourteenth-century château in Bordeaux after a Chinese investor bought it and completely restored it. No expense spared.”

“Prescott said all the stone had been quarried on his property. I don’t think he spared any expense, either.”

There was one small bite of pie left. Quinn pushed the plate over to me. “Finish it.”

I did.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said. “Why today?”

Prescott was dead. Was it really necessary for me to keep his secret now? From Quinn? Was I still bound by my promise not to say anything about the Jefferson copy of the Declaration of Independence he’d just acquired? I knew why he didn’t want his family to know: they thought he was a spendthrift chasing frivolous purchases. His unicorns. But as soon as Clay walked into that special Masonic shrine next to the wine cellar, he’d know about Prescott’s latest acquisition.

Besides, now it belonged to Clay—unless it was one of the items to be sold as part of the Caritas Commitment.

I told Quinn everything. About Prescott’s Masonic hideaway and how he’d wanted to drink the Madeira when he unveiled his copy of the Declaration of Independence to his brother Masons.

“I don’t know much about the Freemasons,” he said when I was done. “Except they’re a men-only club and sometimes they dress up in weird costumes that remind you of Halloween. And they have special ceremonies that no one can talk about.”

“I don’t know much, either, but Prescott says there’s a lot more to being a Mason than the secret handshakes and the unusual costumes. They do quite a lot of charity work,” I said.

“Well, I suppose it fits that Prescott wants to present the Declaration of Independence to his Mason brotherhood in a special ceremony and toast it with Leland’s Madeira.”

“Which we don’t have.”

“Prescott’s sure the labels say the Madeira was supposed to be drunk by James Madison on the Fourth of July at the Capitol?”

I nodded.

“And you really have no idea where it is, what happened to it?”