Read Online The Redneck Detective Agency (The Redneck Detective Agency Mystery Series Book 1) by Phillip Quinn Morris - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Phillip Quinn Morris
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didn’t mind when somebody kissed his ass uptown because of his own connection to Sammy. But down on the river it got on his nerves.
We’re just crazy about your show. My husband’s not going to believe I waited on you. Duane had his own cable show—Southern Bass Fishing Today. Every year the stations carrying it expanded. Rusty, not having cable, had only seen the show a couple times, from a tape Gloria recorded for him. Ray didn’t have cable either, but somebody who did was always inviting Ray and Alice over. Maybe Jenny was right. After they’d divorced that last time, nobody invited him anywhere. Not that he invited anybody, but still. Maybe he was disconnecting from society.
He wished he could disconnect from Elmore Leonard. But this thing had him.
Finally, Leslie moved on with Duane’s order. Ray said, “Man, Duane. I got some suggestions for your show.”
“Everybody’s a critic,” Rusty said and Duane gave him a high five.
Ray disregarded it and started saying, “You should have something besides bass fishing. Show a little crappie fishing…”
“Ray, it’s a bass fishing show. Bass fishing is the operative word here…”
With those two’s attention on each other, Rusty looked down and commenced to read the article on Elmore “Katfish King” King. The man lived in Florence, Alabama, and was survived by his wife, four kids, and six grandkids.
He was born and raised in Winston County and graduated from Haleyville High School.
Rusty stopped breathing, felt something in the pit of the stomach. Winston County was sixty miles away and was where Rusty’s mother was from. This was getting too cozy and coincidental.
He read the rest of the article through a pulsating haze. No leads on who would have murdered him or why.
Rusty could well be one of, if not the, last person to see him alive.
Maybe he should run tell Sammy. Give him all the information. Someone stole King’s two hundred fourteen pound catfish and King came to Rusty, gave him five thousand dollars to find out who. Then got some message on his cellphone that had cut the meeting short. King rushed out, and to his death.
Maybe all that was valuable information in the investigation of the murder of Elmore King. Rusty remembered: Sammy told him the statistics were the last person known to see someone alive was the person who killed him. Known to was the operative word here.
Rusty didn’t need to be a suspect in a murder case.
He needed to get home and Google up Elmore King. No, that was too slow. He might just drive to his office, where he had faster internet.
Now, Ray was saying, “Duane, can’t you just do some cane pole fishing on that show every once in a while?”
“Have you ever heard of something called sponsors, Ray? Bass boats, bass lures, bass fishing rods…”
“Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer, Johnson outboards. You got some good sponsors, Duane…”
Chapter 11
Early the next morning, Rusty got into his El Camino, stopped on the highway, topped the tank off and headed to Winston County.
If anybody there knew anything about King’s past in Winston County, it would be Silas Skye. Silas was about sixty-seven, a businessman, and probably about Rusty’s fifth cousin.
Winston County was different. It was a strange place. After Alabama seceded from the Union in 1861, Winston County seceded from Alabama, forming the Free State of Winston. Even though it was only sixty miles
We’re just crazy about your show. My husband’s not going to believe I waited on you. Duane had his own cable show—Southern Bass Fishing Today. Every year the stations carrying it expanded. Rusty, not having cable, had only seen the show a couple times, from a tape Gloria recorded for him. Ray didn’t have cable either, but somebody who did was always inviting Ray and Alice over. Maybe Jenny was right. After they’d divorced that last time, nobody invited him anywhere. Not that he invited anybody, but still. Maybe he was disconnecting from society.
He wished he could disconnect from Elmore Leonard. But this thing had him.
Finally, Leslie moved on with Duane’s order. Ray said, “Man, Duane. I got some suggestions for your show.”
“Everybody’s a critic,” Rusty said and Duane gave him a high five.
Ray disregarded it and started saying, “You should have something besides bass fishing. Show a little crappie fishing…”
“Ray, it’s a bass fishing show. Bass fishing is the operative word here…”
With those two’s attention on each other, Rusty looked down and commenced to read the article on Elmore “Katfish King” King. The man lived in Florence, Alabama, and was survived by his wife, four kids, and six grandkids.
He was born and raised in Winston County and graduated from Haleyville High School.
Rusty stopped breathing, felt something in the pit of the stomach. Winston County was sixty miles away and was where Rusty’s mother was from. This was getting too cozy and coincidental.
He read the rest of the article through a pulsating haze. No leads on who would have murdered him or why.
Rusty could well be one of, if not the, last person to see him alive.
Maybe he should run tell Sammy. Give him all the information. Someone stole King’s two hundred fourteen pound catfish and King came to Rusty, gave him five thousand dollars to find out who. Then got some message on his cellphone that had cut the meeting short. King rushed out, and to his death.
Maybe all that was valuable information in the investigation of the murder of Elmore King. Rusty remembered: Sammy told him the statistics were the last person known to see someone alive was the person who killed him. Known to was the operative word here.
Rusty didn’t need to be a suspect in a murder case.
He needed to get home and Google up Elmore King. No, that was too slow. He might just drive to his office, where he had faster internet.
Now, Ray was saying, “Duane, can’t you just do some cane pole fishing on that show every once in a while?”
“Have you ever heard of something called sponsors, Ray? Bass boats, bass lures, bass fishing rods…”
“Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer, Johnson outboards. You got some good sponsors, Duane…”
Chapter 11
Early the next morning, Rusty got into his El Camino, stopped on the highway, topped the tank off and headed to Winston County.
If anybody there knew anything about King’s past in Winston County, it would be Silas Skye. Silas was about sixty-seven, a businessman, and probably about Rusty’s fifth cousin.
Winston County was different. It was a strange place. After Alabama seceded from the Union in 1861, Winston County seceded from Alabama, forming the Free State of Winston. Even though it was only sixty miles
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