The guests were backing away toward the side gate now, trying to leave without making eye contact.

Some of them were whispering behind their hands.

Others were pulling out their phones, their screens catching the afternoon glare.

“Everyone who does not live here needs to clear the area,” the older officer announced to the crowd.

“Please leave through the side gate in an orderly fashion.”

Nobody argued.

The neighbors shuffled out, their sandals clicking on the stone path.

Within two minutes, the spacious backyard was empty of guests.

Only the half-filled plates of gourmet food and the melting ice sculpture of a swan remained.

The swan was dripping water onto the patio table, one drop at a time.

“Now,” the older officer said, turning back to us.

“Let’s talk about the trust fund.”

“That is a civil matter,” Father said quickly.

“It has nothing to do with the police.”

“Actually, sir, misappropriation of trust funds under these circumstances can constitute grand larceny and financial exploitation,” the younger officer noted.

“Especially if the beneficiary was a minor when the funds were diverted.”

I looked at Mother.