We buried Mr. Hankins the next day. His daughter, Sharla, and her husband and children met us at Oddfellows, watched as lowered the casket into the vault, watched as Ryan, the gravedigger and maintenance man at the cemetery, used a backhoe to fill the grave.
Afterward, Charlie and I got into the hearse for the drive back to Port Moss.
“Boss?”
“Yeah,” I said, glancing over at the passenger side.
Charlie was in a reflective mood. “How do you know if you’re in love with someone? Not just horny and s**t, but…like…you want to be with them. All the time.”
“I’ve been wondering that myself lately,” I allowed.
“Really?”
“It’s a good question,” I said, trying to avoid the matter.
“And the answer?”
“You in love with someone?”
“Might be.”
I felt suddenly nervous. Charlie could be very disco
