My detective story

My final for my English 193 class (Detective Fiction) is to write a detective story of my own. I admit it isn't very good, but it IS a detective story, and it is also enough to pass my class. It's posted backwards, so you can read from here, and scroll down (as opposed to up) to the end! It's broken up into a few parts, there are natural breaks in the story so if you get tired of reading, you can come back later, or just not read it.
A side note, all of the places in the story are real from my own memory! There is one I had to make up for the story, but Darren Gains' house is my grandparent's house, Ore's house in Columbus is where my dad grew up before they moved to the farm, and many of the stories are true! Just ask when you're done!
It is called "A Rushville Overnighter"

Gains sat on his dingy green couch waiting for the Raid commercial to end. The blasted things are too long and three times louder than the show you’re watching. His living room-dining room looked like it was made from boards crusted in dirt. He had never finished putting up the sheetrock because the electrical work was too much of a pain. Now all the colored wires hang from the walls and ceiling, and slits through the boards. Some were so wide you could see through to the kitchen window and out to the barn outside. He had too many things he wanted to start, but not finish.
Finally the program came back from its commercial break—another re-run of Walker, Texas Ranger. Before the break, Walker just roundhouse kicked someone in the face and they were down for the count. Soon all justice was restored and the credits rolled. Gains stood up and went to the kitchen. He filled up a dusty glass with tap water and looked out on the junkyard in front of the barn. Two cars and a tractor were no longer in working order—except as lawn ornaments. He didn’t need the tractor anyway; weeds and wild plants had overrun the land for forty years and there was no use putting in the effort now.
“Rita, I’m going out for a walk,” Gains said. Rita stared through her bowl and let out a few bubbles. “Don’t wait up for me,” called Gains.
The sky was light blue streaked with stringy clouds. The Ohio air was crisp and cold, but at least the humidity wasn’t so bad today. Gains trudged up the hill through tall grass and thickets with his ancient shotgun by his side. He liked to keep it nearby because his land was almost completely wild now. About thirty years earlier, Gains renewed his excitement for his land and wanted to try his lot at making some money off of the farm. He planted 50 Christmas trees, forgot or got bored, and now the pine trees were mixed with the brush and the buckeyes. Even though the farmland was useless now, he liked to care for it occasionally. Where the Christmas trees grew, he always mowed a little clearing so he could come outside on days where he felt his brain turning to mush from all of his TV programs. No one could bother him here, and they probably wouldn’t want to anyway.
He was thinking about trying potatoes this year, when he saw it. A red, silk high-heeled shoe. He walked over to the shoe and studied it. There were brown stains on the front and it belonged to a left foot. He couldn’t help but wonder where the other one was. He walked over to the brush and poked around the trees until he found the other shoe.
The right heel was wearing a pale, scratched brunette with bruises all over her taped up arms. Her green eyes were light and staring off at the midday sky. Her mouth had been taped shut and she had suffered some kind of stab wound. Darren Gains backed up when he found her, then drew nearer and absorbed the scene into his brain. Who is she? More importantly, why is she here? With all of his questions, Darren couldn’t help but feel like he recognized the woman.