Niceville

know the Cotton mansion. Called Temple Hill. Big yellow-brick place, wraparound porch, lots of that white gingerbread crap in every corner.”
    “Well, she’s gone missing.”
    Nick sat up, life coming back into his frame.
    “Missing?”
    “Yes. Got a cleaning lady named Alice Bayer. Went there today to deliver some groceries, found the door open, music playing. Half ascotch on the table. House wide open and Delia Cotton gone. Cat gone too, some kind of Maine Coon cat. Name of Mildred Pierce. Maybe also the yard man, fellow named Gray Haggard. His Packard was in the drive, but no sign of him either.”
    “Relatives?”
    “All dead. Maybe a few friends in her book club. Patrol guys did some leg work, got diddly. She’s gone, Nick. With her yard man. Gone like the snows of yesteryear. That’s Proust, you know.”
    Nick shook his head.
    “Actually, I don’t think so.”
    Tig lost his smug smile.
    “Not Proust?”
    “No. I mean, he said something
like
it—about the remembrance of things past, sort of. But he never said anything about the snows of yesteryear.”
    “Then who the fuck did?”
    “I think it was some dead Frog. Gimme a minute. Villon. Yes. François Villon.”
    “What did he say?”
    Nick took a moment.
    “I think he said,
Où sont les neiges d’antan?
”
    “Which means?”
    “Where are the snows of yesteryear.”
    Tig remained unconvinced.
    “You sure?”
    “I’d have to google it. But I’m pretty sure.”
    Tig looked unhappy.
    “Man. I’ve been throwing that quote around for years. Now I feel like a mook.”
    “Maybe. But you’ve still got your looks. Who’s catching the Cotton thing?”
    “You are. Delia was one of ours. I know the family; they were real good to my dad. Cottons were also one of the Founding Four. A fine lady too.”
    Nick stood up, put the chair back under the president’s dreamy eyes, his faraway look.
    “Can I have Beau?”
    “Beau? He’s pretty raw.”
    “He’s not going to get any better unless we take him around some. Otherwise, he’s just filling a chair and filing shit and losing his nerve.”
    “Okay. Take Beau. It’ll give him a taste. We’ll see what he’s got too. One other thing,” said Tig, as Nick turned to leave. His casual tone became a bit forced. “You run on Patton’s Hard, don’t you? Down there by the Tulip?”
    “Yes.”
    “You run there last night?”
    “Yes. Every night.”
    “Last night?”
    “Every night.”
    “You see a big white guy down there, wearing a blue track suit, a muscle guy?”
    “Nope. Why?”
    “Well, Boots Jackson’s got the motorcycle beat for Patton’s Hard—”
    “I know Boots. He found the last guy who had seen Rainey.”
    “Yeah. Alf Pennington. Anyway, Boots found this guy there around two in the morning, looked like he’d been mugged. Banged around pretty good. Like he had been worked over by a pro. He’ll never look at the same face in his mirror again. Ribs cracked. Nose all over on one side. Cheekbone cracked like an eggshell. Both testicles ruptured and crushed. Effectively castrated, the medics are saying. Also may lose his right eye. Said he was just out jogging and somebody jumped him. Came out of the dark. A random attack.”
    Nick shrugged.
    “Well, his story held up until Boots got him to the ER medics. They were cleaning him up and a big plastic Baggie fell out of his track suit pocket. Skate laces. Roll of duct tape. Baby oil. A box cutter.”
    “Tools for rape.”
    “Yes. Tools for a rape. So Boots ran him and he was wanted up in Charleston for forcible sexual assault. Looks like a chain of attacks on young women, mostly joggers, going way back.”
    “Not Ziggy Danich? Vice has been after him for months. Never able to pin anything on him.”
    “Yeah. I know. I remember you asking about him a while back.”
    “So they got him, finally?”
    “Looks like it will stand up. Reasonable search, chain of evidence.Ziggy might be the guy who did those two young girls down by the Tulip two weeks ago. They’re doing the DNA now.”
    Tig stopped, seemed to wait for Nick to say something, which didn’t happen.
    “So you didn’t see anything?”
    “No. Not a thing.”
    “Thing is, guy said he had no idea who attacked him, never saw it coming, no idea where the rape stuff came from. Said it must have been planted.”
    “They all say that.”
    Tig nodded. “They do.”
    He looked troubled, moved a couple of things around on his desk and then moved them back.
    Nick waited,