Tussinland by Mike Monson Read Free Book Online

sweet, young man, even though over the past several years he kept returning off and on to the violence of his youth, while also honing his skills as a burglar. Plus, he was addicted to heroin. Completely devoted to Miranda, he obeyed her without question. Paul felt sorry for anyone who Logan rightly or wrongly thought had insulted or mistreated his niece.
    “Tina was a sweet lady,” Logan said, letting go of Paul finally. “But she never should have left you. That pissed me off.”
    “Yeah,” Paul said. “Me too. But I’d pretty much gotten over it.”
    Paul didn’t say anything else. Just looked into Logan’s damp eyes until the kid walked away to join Miranda.
    He found his phone still connected to its charger. It was on the old cardboard box his radio/cd player had come in that he used as a bedside table. He checked: no messages; no calls. Not even from his kids. That was good.
    He took a shower. Then put on some shorts and a polo shirt and went back into the living room.
    Logan was gone. He saw Miranda and Mavis out back on the deck, smoking pot, drinking and talking. A common sight.
    He went to the kitchen, got a box of Frosted Flakes (pleased to see that it was unopened—people were always stealing his cereal), a gallon of milk, a plastic Tupperware container the size of a mixing bowl, and a large spoon. Sat in front of the TV in his usual chair and placed everything on the coffee table. Checked the recordings in the DVR queue and after much thought, picked the oldest unwatched episode of Storage Wars . He ate bowl after bowl of cereal, careful to keep adding cereal and milk with practiced timing to make sure he never had to take a bite of a gross, soggy Frosted Flakes. He couldn’t eat them unless they were still crispy.
    He loved Jarrod and Brandy (she had such great legs and nice tits) and Barry Weiss (“the Collecter”). He couldn’t stand Dave Hester (“the Mogul”) or Darrel Sheets (“the Gambler”). He thought the auctioneer’s blond assistant was cloyingly annoying (the one who always said “Don’t forget to pay the lady” for some inane reason), but he liked to look at the cleavage she always showed.
    As usual, he didn’t stop eating until he felt so full he was ashamed of himself. This is why he weighed 245 rather than his healthy weight (according to his doctor) of 180. He was glad to see that Brandy and Jarrod made the highest profit from a unit Brandy was convinced had cost too much.
    He felt so out of it. Groggy, confused, still anxious from the DM. He was seeing strange things out of the corner of his eye: lizards and dragons, and rivers of vomit and shit. He was also seeing Detective Fagan, hovering over him with the chair held high above his head, or, just his fist. Couldn’t believe Tina was dead and that someone would do such a thing. He was glad Mark Pisko was dead. He hated that guy.
    He wondered if he was supposed to do something. His wife was dead. They didn’t have any kids together but she had two of her own. Paul’s kids, up until lately, had thought of her as some kind of mother figure, he guessed. But he didn’t want to call them. He also didn’t want to deal with Tina’s family in trying to figure out arrangements because they were pretty sick of him, and for all he knew they could already be thinking he’d killed her. He’d hoped it was their problem since it was their daughter and he wasn’t with Tina now.
    He just wanted it all to go away. But, since it wouldn’t, he wanted to help the police figure out who’d killed his wife.

ELEVEN
     
    After Storage Wars , Paul started to watch the previous night’s episode of Longmire . He loved it that the sheriff-hero was dark and depressed with some awful, bloody secret yet to be revealed. Loved it that he drove around in his rural Wyoming jurisdiction often drunk, with empty cans of Rainier beer rolling around in the bed of his pickup.
    First though, he needed to catch up on the internet. He paused the show and