The Redneck Detective Agency (The Redneck Detective Agency Mystery Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

king of the catfish. A two hundred fourteen pound catfish. Rusty had never heard of a catfish weighing over a hundred fifty pounds. Sure, there were rumors and legends. The biggest one Rusty ever saw with his own eyes weighed one hundred forty pounds. It took two McAllister’s to get the thing in the boat. It was a bizarre looking monster.
                  With the concept the man wasn’t going to show up, the adrenalin ran out of his body. He went over and lay on his little couch. He had gotten little sleep. He and Gloria had been up almost all night long. He was as good as he ever was, but it would probably take him a couple days to recover.
                  Just as he was about to doze off, he came awake. He knew the door downstairs was being opened. The creaking sound snapped him to.
                  Now footsteps. It was not the fat grabbler. There was no mistaking that clomp. They were an octave—not that Rusty knew shit about music—off from Jenny’s. It was Gloria.
                  Clomp, clomp, clomp up the stairs so quickly. Rusty stood up, then saw blue illuminate the translucent glass. There was a knock.
                  “Rusty, it’s me. Gloria.”
                  Rusty hustled over and opened the door.
                  Gloria entered, all perky as hell. She had on a neon blue dress, came a little below her knees. It was low-cut with sleeves. She had a matching hand bag, had on a matching hat and matching open toe shoes.
                  She walked to the middle of the room, twirled around and announced, “I will soon have a divorce from Al.”
                  “Congratulations,” Rusty said. What in the hell was he supposed to say? He was sure there was nothing about the proper retort to that in Emily Post, not that he had an Emily Post. It had belonged to Jenny and Jenny took it with her.
                  Gloria tossed her handbag onto the seat of the swivel chair and then plopped herself down on the couch. Her dress rode up high above her knees. Rusty sat beside her. He thought he was good for now, but damned if he didn’t think he might just run his hand up between her legs.
                  “I had to distance myself from him,” she explained.
                  “Why’s that?”
                  “He’s becoming a loose cannon.”
                  “He is a little different. I’ve always found him intriguing.”
                  “Intriguing is a good word for Al. We had a fun three years together. But I have to fix it so none of his actions have financial repercussions on me. That girl he’s shacked up with. He swore to me he looked at her driver’s license and that she’s nineteen, but I bet she’s barely sixteen if that.”
                  “I was illegal when you first fucked me decades ago,” Rusty said, as a reminder.
                  “I like casting the first stone.”
                  Al Bolton had come into town a very handsome man of thirty-five. He seemed to have a thing for good-looking older women and soon married one twenty years his senior, one Gloria Davenport. Of course, Davenport was Gloria’s maiden name. She changed it twice. Right before Al came into town she legally changed it back to Davenport. Her two grown children were off in other states, with no grandchildren in sight, and she wanted her original name back. When she and Al married, she kept the name Davenport.
                  But when Al turned thirty-eight he suffered some kind of midlife crisis and didn’t show up to work at the bait shop and just stayed holed up alone in a cabin for over a month. When he came out of his funk he was still kind of aloof and now had a thing for good-looking girls about twenty years younger than he was.
                  Twenty years older, now twenty