The first page was a certified closing statement showing forty-one thousand two hundred dollars deposited straight into a private account in Patricia’s name only.

“Mom told me the lot only cleared ten thousand after taxes,” I said.

“She lied to you,” Harold said quietly.

“Turn to page four.”

I turned the heavy page.

A wire transfer receipt showed forty-one thousand two hundred dollars sent straight to a general contractor in Rochester Hills to pay down Vanessa’s eighty-thousand-dollar kitchen remodel bill.

“She took my share of Michael’s life insurance money too, didn’t she?” I asked.

“She emptied your joint account yesterday morning,” Harold said, looking down at his paper napkin.