“So,” Charles said, then took another sip of his tea. “How does this go?”

“Either I ask if I can take some of those roses out front to lay on her grave…”

“Or?”

“Or I just take them because no one lives here anymore.”

“I don’t want any trouble.”

“I need to know how it happened.”

Charles looked down, took a deep breath, and nodded. “She had what they called an ascending aortic aneurysm. Went to sleep one night, never woke up. I called the EMTs the next day but they said she’d been dead for hours by then.”

Amos nodded. “Were you good to her, Charles?”

“I loved her, boy,” he replied, a hint of steel in his voice. “You can do what you want here, I can’t stop you. But I won’t have you questioning that. I loved her from the moment we met to our last kiss goodnight. I still do.”

The old man’s voice didn’t quaver a bit, but his eyes were watery and his hands trembled.

“Can I sit?” Amos asked.

“Suit yourself. Let me know if you want more tea. Pot’s full.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m sorry about rousting you like that. But when I heard, I worried —”

“I know who Lydia was before we met,” Charles said, sitting down on a small couch facing him. “We were always honest with each other. But no one ever bothered us here. She just had a leaky artery and it gave out one night while she was sleeping. Nothing else.”

Amos rubbed his scalp for a moment, waiting to see if he believed the old guy. Seemed like he did.

“Thanks. And, again, I’m sorry if I came on strong,” Amos said. “So, can I take a few of those roses?”

“Sure,” Charles said with a sigh. “Ain’t my garden much longer anyway. Take what you want.”

“You moving?”

“Well, the guy who was doling Lydia stopped when she died. We had a little set aside, but not much. I’ll be going on basic pretty soon, so that means the government block.”

“Who was floating her?” Amos asked, already knowing the answer.

“Kid named Erich. Runs a crew in Lydia’s old hometown. Somebody you used to know, I guess.”

“Used to,” Amos agreed. “Does he know about you? That Lydia was married?”

“Sure. He kept in touch. Checked up on us.”

“And he cut you off after she died.”

It wasn’t a question, and Charles didn’t answer, just sipped at his tea.

“So,” Amos said, standing up, “got a thing I need to go do. Don’t start moving out yet. One way or another, I’ll make sure you’ve got the money to keep this place.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Sort of do.”

“For her,” Charles said.

“For her.”