“He’s in the office writing his morning report,” Carl said.

“He asked why your mother’s funeral costs were coming out of your personal checking account.”

“Did he now?” I asked.

“I told him it was none of his business,” Carl said.

“He said money trouble at home leads to register shortages.”

I set the foam cup on the flat steel ledge of the gas pump without taking a sip.

“He can write whatever he wants,” I said.

Carl tapped his clipboard against his knee once more, slow and uneven.