“They were in an envelope. I never opened it. It wasn’t mine to open.” He waved an admonishing finger at me. “Lucie, my advice to you is not to open it, either. Your father didn’t tell you about that safe-deposit box for a reason. You’re asking for trouble if you stir things up after all this time.”

“Stir what things up?” Prescott had said nearly the same thing. “What kind of trouble?”

“I’m not joking about this. Your father—and you know what an avid historian he was—told me he came across something in his research that would have been better left undisturbed. He sat right here in my office—exactly where you’re sitting now—and told me over a couple of Bourbons one afternoon. We decided it was best to lock those papers up. Put them away. I didn’t realize he’d spoken to Prescott about it.”

I squirmed in my chair, wishing he hadn’t told me about that conversation with Leland. Exactly where you’re sitting right now. Drinking Bourbon. That was Leland, all right.

“Why didn’t he just destroy them and be done with it?”

“I don’t know. I believe he intended to figure out what the best way to handle them would be.” Seth held out his hands, palms up. “But he never got the chance, did he?”

“Do you know if the papers have anything to do with the Freemasons?”

Seth had been reaching for his water glass. His hand shook, spilling water on his suit jacket, giving him away. He set the glass down, pulled out his breast pocket handkerchief and dabbed at a small water spot on the sleeve of his gray pinstriped suit.

I pushed him. “I’m right, aren’t I? Did my father tell you that?”

“He might have hinted at it.”

“Aren’t you on the board of the Miranda Foundation?”

“I’m on the board, but I’m not a Mason,” he said. “What made you ask about them just now? Did Prescott say something about them?”

Seth hadn’t been straight with me. I didn’t need to tell him everything. “Not really. Just hinted at something.”

If Seth realized I was lying, he let it go. “And now Prescott’s dead, too. Murdered.”

“The Sheriff’s Office seems to be looking for someone who was upset that Prescott wanted to sell the Washington Tribune,” I said. “I think Bobby believes that was probably the motive for killing him, to stop him from proceeding with the sale. And that’s why they’re focusing on the family. They’ve got the best motive, even though they’re not the only ones who would be upset. A lot of people could be out of jobs.”