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Julio deadpanned.
    Connie quickly changed the subject and got to the reason they were there; her parents. “Nola, tell us what you remember about our parents.”
    â€œWell, I grew up with your Dad. My family lived across the street from his family right here in Tilden Park. He went to Bolton Day School for young men and I went to Miss DeVoe’s School for Girls. Your dad was one of those guys who had it all—handsome, smart and everyone loved him. Particularly for a psychiatrist, he was extremely personable. Actually, he was usually the life of every party, always outgoing in a social setting.
    â€œAs you know, he met your mother at Purdue, where they both did their undergraduate work. She came from a small farm town in Indiana and had a mind of her own. Not the typical housewife in Tilden Park. She was rather contrary with an extremely liberal view of the world. It was as though she had prematurely decided she was not going to conform to the opinions and persuasions of the old Cincinnati guard. As a non-conformist, your mother was always taking up some obscure cause. If it wasn’t animals or the homeless, it was some tribe in Africa. She was a staunch defender of the underdog, so we weren’t surprised when she adopted Julio. We thought they were done having kids since you were about eight at the time.
    â€œI was so surprised when my husband—God rest his soul—and I bought our dream home and found out your parents lived next door. What fun your mother and I had being pregnant together, with you and Martin. Your mother was different, but very caring and maternal. When I lost my husband shortly after Martin was born, I was devastated and had no idea how I was going to raise a son all by myself. Your parents made me feel like part of your family and included both of us in your festivities and gatherings. I always teased your mother that in marrying John, she had inherited me. Your Dad was especially kind to Martin and treated him like the son he didn’t have.”
    Julio flinched and Connie quickly brought the conversation back to her folks. “Nola, would you tell us about the day they died?”
    â€œI relive it every day in my mind. I’ve spent so many hours asking myself questions and still have not come up with a thing that’s new. It’s the all-time mystery. The police were quite suspicious of your Negro friend, Andrew. Other than him, I know of no other suspects. When talk died down and the police released the Negro boy, he and his parents moved away. No one knows where. If it was not your colored friend, the word was that it was a break-in gone wrong.
    â€œAfter all, you know how the disadvantaged often resent the privileged and wealthy, and want what we have. They pick a house where they think there will be cash and jewelry and if the people are home, they just shoot them. I’m so sorry I can’t come up with any more of a reasonable explanation than that.
    â€œEveryone liked your parents, especially your father. The only time I ever saw either of your parents angry was an incident at the country club. There was a fight, almost a physical fight between your mother and a real estate agent, Beth Vreeland. They got so loud, the club manager had to intervene. I don’t know what they were fighting about, and your mother would never say, but that was the last time they were seen together in public, so far as I know.”
    At this point, Nola began to ramble on about the country club, who had become members in the last twenty-two years and who had been denied. It was the last straw. Julio lost his patience with Nola’s ignorant rantings. He rose from the chair, stared pointedly at his watch and suggested it was time for them to go.
    â€œWe have another friend to visit and it would be rude to be late.”
    Nola insisted she needed to see Connie at least one more time before she left Cincinnati, as who knew when she would return and Nola certainly