He was wearing his brown canvas coat, and he adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses when he saw me approach the path.

“We need to talk about the statement you gave the police,” he said.

“There is nothing to discuss,” I said, stopping five feet from the gate.

“You told them I was at your hospital,” he said, his voice dropping into that heavy paternal register.

“You told them I left those keys in your desk.

You are going to ruin your brother’s life over a misunderstanding.”

I looked up at the second-floor balcony to my left.