“He said Clay told him he was wasting money on frivolous purchases. That he was spending Clay’s inheritance.”

“Prescott said Clay told him he was spending Clay’s inheritance? He used those words?”

I tried to remember exactly what Prescott had said. “He said Clay called his purchases ‘unicorns’ because they were so rare and precious. Clay said Prescott was ‘wasting’ money buying these things.”

“Did he mention whether anyone else in the family shared that point of view?” Bobby asked.

We were really getting into it. Yesterday nearly one hundred friends and neighbors had been at an after-Thanksgiving party at Hawthorne, an annual event we all looked forward to. Today I was being asked to rat out who might be a murderer among us—specifically, among Prescott’s family. I got why Bobby was doing this, but I didn’t like it.

“Bobby, I feel like a traitor.”

“Lucie, if you don’t tell me what you know, you could be obstructing a murder investigation. I need to find out who murdered Prescott Avery. There were more than a hundred people at that party yesterday and most of them had been drinking. Before we found out Prescott’s death wasn’t an accident or from natural causes, the family had people in to clean Hawthorne from top to bottom—including the wine cellar. So any evidence we might have found was destroyed or thrown out.” Bobby sounded mad. “If you know something, you need to tell me about it.”

“I know.”

“So who else in the family thought Prescott was spending their inheritance?” He held up his fingers and made quotation marks around their inheritance.

I took a deep breath. “He mentioned Scotty and Alex. He said the two of them thought he was … ‘starting to lose it,’ was how he put it.”

“Like he needed to be reined in on his spending?”

“I don’t know. Actually I interpreted it that they were implying that he could be talked into spending money without understanding what he was really doing. He wasn’t at all happy about that.”

Bobby nodded. “Did they say anything about power of attorney or guardianship?”

“No, it didn’t get that far. Besides, Prescott was as sharp as a tack. You know that.”

“What about his grandchildren? Kellie, for instance. She works here,” he said. “Did she ever mention anything about trouble between her parents and Prescott?”

“Not to me.”

“Anything else you can tell me?”

“Nope. But I do have a question.”

“What?”

“Did you ever find Prescott’s cane?”

“Clayton found it. He said it was underneath some shelves in the wine cellar. Why do you ask?”

“Did you know Prescott has more than one crystal cane with a silver handle on it?”

“I do. How do you know that?”