“Not forgotten,” Rina said. “They’ll never be forgotten. Jewish law won’t allow it. You know halacha…finding the unknown body that has been murdered within the city limits. The chok about the red heifer.”

Oscar looked blank.

“It’s right from the Chumash. If you find a dead body within the city, and no one claims responsibility for it, the entire community is responsible. And it is up to the community to give that body a proper burial. That’s all I’m trying to do, Oscar. Give this man a proper burial.”

“I do not know the name. Who is he to you?”

“I’m doing someone a favor. Not because he’s a friend, but because he’s a parent. His son was murdered, Oscar.”

“Ach! That’s terrible!”

Slowly, Rina told him the story. Midway through, Oscar closed his watery eyes. But Rina could tell that he was still listening and listening intently. By the time she was finished, most of the room had been cleared of its diners. Her voice seemed louder, so she dropped it a notch. “I have a picture of them…all of them. It was given to me by the man’s son. Carter Golding—”

“What kind name is Carter?”

“A goyish name. His mother wasn’t Jewish.”

“So he’s not Jewish. Why you help out a goy when there are so many Jews?”

“He’s a parent.”

The old man beckoned the snapshot with a crooked finger. Rina pulled it from her purse and showed it to him—grandfather, father, and two smiling sons. Oscar stared at the generations of Goldings. She offered to let him hold it for a closer look. He took the four-year-old snapshot with hands that had a Parkinsonian tremor.

“Yitzchak is the elderly man—”

“I know. I’m not stupid.”

The feistiness was back. That made Rina happy. “I’m not implying—”

“Nyaaah,” Oscar sneered. “You want to know who he looks like to me?”

Rina was excited. “Who?”

“He looks like an old man I never met. Take it back,” Oscar said. “It won’t help if I look longer.”

Rina took the picture and held it between her fingers. “Oscar, can I ask you one last favor?”

“Ask.”

“Do you remember…about six months ago a shul in the valley was vandalized?”

The old man’s eyes clouded. “Maybe.”

“That was my shul—”

“Oy vey.”

“The person who admitted to the crime.” She gave Oscar another look at the picture. “It was this boy…he was also the one who was murdered.”

Oscar stared at her. “I am confused. It is this boy who thinks that his grandfather…Maybe you should start over.”

“I will, but maybe we should move to a little more private place.”

Oscar waved her off. “Why you help the parents of such a bad boy?”

“Troubled—”

“Bad.”

“Troubled,” Rina insisted.

“Bad and troubled. The two go together.”