Derek came out the side entrance three minutes later, holding a glowing smartphone in his right hand.

He stopped next to his black sedan and unlocked the doors with his key fob.

“How much of Dad’s pension fund did you take for that riverfront apartment?” I asked, stopping near his rear bumper.

Derek didn’t look up from his phone.

“Mom approved the transfer because she understands how corporate growth works,” Derek said.

“Dad worked forty years in civil service for that fund,” I said.

Derek shoved his phone into his coat pocket and turned toward me.