In the Electric Mist With Confederate Dead (Dave Robicheaux 6)

"When'd you first see that metal barrel?" I said.

"Tonight."

"Do you come down here often?" I asked.

"Not too often, no, suh."

"You've got a nice bunch of fish there."

"Yeah, they feed good when the moon's up."

I gazed into the bottom of his pirogue, at the wet shine of moonlight on the fish's sides, the tangles of trotlines and corks, and a long object wrapped in a canvas tarp under the seat.

I caught the pirogue by the gunwale and slid it partly up on the mudbank.

"Do you mind if I look at this?" I said, and flipped back the folds of the canvas tarp.

He didn't answer. I took a pen flashlight out of my shirt pocket and shone it on the lever-action .30-.30 rifle. The bluing was worn off and the stock was wrapped with copper wire.

"Walk down here a little ways with me," I said.

He followed me out to the edge of the lighted area, out of earshot of the Vermilion Parish deputies.

"We want to catch the guy who did this," I said. "I think you'd like to help us do that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, suh, I sho' would."

"But there's a problem here, isn't there? Something that's preventing you from telling me everything you want to?"

"I ain't real sho' what you—"

"Are you selling fish to restaurants?"

"No, suh, that ain't true."

"Did you bring that .30-30 along to shoot frogs?"

He grinned and shook his head. I grinned back at him.

"But you might just poach a 'gator or two?" I said.

"No, suh, I ain't got no 'gator. You can look."

I let my expression go flat.

"That's right. So you don't have to be afraid," I said. "I just want you to tell me the truth. Nobody's going to bother you about that gun, or your headlamp, or what you might be doing with your fish. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes, suh."

"When'd you first notice that barrel?"

"Maybe t'ree, fo' weeks ago. It was setting up on dry ground. I didn't have no reason to pay it no mind, no, but then I started to smell somet'ing. I t’ought it was a dead nutria, or maybe a big gar rotting up on the bank. It was real strong one night, then t'ree nights later you couldn't smell it 'less the wind blow it right across the water. Then it rained and the next night they wasn't no smell at all. I just never t'ought they might be a dead girl up there."

"Did you see anyone up there?"

"Maybe about a mont' ago, at evening, I seen a car. I 'member t’inking it was new and why would anybody bring his new car down that dirt road full of holes."

"What kind of car?"