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“Oh, yeah,” Crawford said. “Mutt and Jeff. I saw on the news Marc’s gone missing.”
“You know him?”
“Marc? Sure. Everybody knows Marc. You think he’s had an accident or something?”
“We don’t know.”
“They said on the news he’d gone out hunting. I hope he didn’t fall out of his boat or something,” Crawford said. “I had an uncle went teal hunting up on Catahoula Lake years ago, back when you could still hunt up there. Bent over the side of the boat to pull up his trolling motor, the string popped, and he lost his balance and went headfirst into the water with waders on. Those waders filled up and that was that. Another hunter saw him go in from maybe thirty yards away, but by the time he got over there, it was too late. It happens.”
“It does,” Nick said. “No sign of his boat yet, though. Hoping Dozer might have some ideas as to where he might have gone.”
Crawford nodded and shouted across the yard, “Dozer! Dozer Cormier! Get your ass over here!”
“He’s a good worker?” Nick asked as he watched the big man turn and start lumbering toward them.
“He’s not a self-starter, if you know what I mean, but as long as I stay on him, he’ll work harder than a rented mule.”
“His drinking doesn’t get in the way?”
He shook his head, rubbing at the beard stubble on his chin. “Almost never. He missed a couple days after Halloween. Too much partying at Monster Bash. He’s been a little shaky since, but he’ll beall right. I haven’t said anything about that to Donnie. I want to give the kid a chance to sort himself out and get back on the beam, you know. He can be a damncouillonfor sure, but he’ll be all right.”
“Whatchu need, boss?” Dozer asked.
He had to be six foot five or more, Nick thought, and well over three hundred pounds. A giant of a man with a close-cropped beard and mustache. He wore bib overalls that had to have taken an entire bolt of fabric to make. His hands were the size of catcher’s mitts.
“This here’s Detective Fourcade from the sheriff’s office,” Tommy Crawford said.
Dozer’s face dropped. “I ain’t done nothing!”
“Not saying you have, Mr. Cormier,” Nick said. “You might have heard your friend Marc Mercier is missing. I’m hoping you might help me with some information.”
“I ain’t done nothing to Marc!”
He had a look in his small dark eyes like a horse on the verge of panic. No doubt that would be exactly what it felt like if he bolted—like getting run over by a horse.
“No one is accusing you of anything, Mr. Cormier,” Nick said calmly. “I just want to have a chat. You want us to find Marc, yeah? Bring him home safe to his family?”
“Well…yeah…”
“Let’s step over here in the shade. Might as well make this a little break from your day, right?”
“I guess,” he said hesitantly.
They moved away from the worksite, and Dozer took a seat on a pile of building materials that had been stacked there for the purpose. Nick stayed on his feet, noting that seated, Dozer Cormier was almost at eye level with him.
“When did you last see Marc?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Dozer said. “A couple nights ago, I guess. I don’t remember exactly.”
“You don’t remember?” Nick asked with just a hint ofincredulity. “He’s your best friend. You spend a lot of time together the way I hear it, but you don’t remember when you last saw him?”
“I don’t know. It might have been Friday or it might have been Saturday. We had a few beers.”
“Okay. Where?”
“Where?”
“Where did you have the beers? I imagine people saw you there. Someone will remember.”
