W is for Wasted (Kinsey Millhone 23)

In closing, the trumpeter sounded “Taps.” When the service ended people hugged and shook hands and wiped their eyes and blew their noses, connected for that small window in time. The camaraderie might never rise to the fore again, but I believe it was heartfelt and genuine while it lasted.

As for the matter of the ashes, William and Henry and I considered scattering them along the beach, thus committing an act of civil disobedience, but in the end, Henry came up with a better idea. We took the ashes home with us, and in a private ceremony of our own, we folded them into the rich earth in Henry’s flower beds, where they’ll nourish the roses when spring comes again.