Flynn's In Read Online Free

in the small living room of Suite 23. The chairs and divan in the room were patterned in large, bright flower blossoms. Through a partially opened door, Flynn saw an unmade bed.
    “I’ve telephoned some of the others,” Rutledge said to Commissioner D’Esopo. “They concur in our decision, and advise us to go forward as planned.” To everyone, he said, “Do sit down.”
    The four men sat on the blossoms. Rutledge took the chair with his back to the window light.
    “At The Rod and Gun Club, tradition is that we dispense with titles and ranks, Flynn.”
    “Very democratic, I’m sure,” said Flynn.
    “How much has D’Esopo told you?”
    “He’s been as quiet as a Chihuahua in a snowstorm.”
    “I’d like to meet with you twice this morning, if you don’t mind,” Rutledge said. “I want to meet with you now to stress the delicacy of this matter. After your—shall we say?—discreet preliminary investigations, I’d like to meet with you again. Say about ten o’clock. That should give you time to view the body and have a good breakfast.”
    “And whose body am I viewing,” asked Flynn, “before the toast and marmalade?”
    “Oh, we can provide you with a better breakfast than that,” smiled Rutledge. “The body is of Dwight Huttenbach.” Rutledge waited futilely for Flynn’s reaction. “You don’t know who he was?”
    “Already having an impression of your membership,” answered Flynn, “I would suppose he was a barber keen on huntin’ and fishin’.”
    Rutledge’s smile assured Flynn Rutledge was not surprised. “United States Congressman Dwight Huttenbach.” He mentioned Huttenbach’s congressional district, state and party affiliation. Neither the state nor the party affiliation matched the state or the party affiliation of the United States Senator downstairs sipping a preprandial bourbon.
    “By the way,” Rutledge added, to D’Esopo. “I’ve talked with his wife. Mrs Huttenbach. First name…”
    “Carol,” said Wahler.
    “Seems to be taking it as well as can be expected. She’s on her way up. To Timberbreak, that is.”
    “I see,” said D’Esopo.
    Flynn noticed slight perspiration on D’Esopo’s face. Even in his tweed suit, Flynn was surely not warm enough to perspire.
    Rutledge said to Flynn: “The Congressman was killed by a shotgun blast.”
    “‘Was killed,’” echoed Flynn. “I see you’re not givin’ me the accidental euphemism.”
    Rutledge opened the palms of his hands to Flynn. “I’m not a policeman, Flynn. I have no expertise in such matters. You need to go see what is to be seen. I’ve asked Wahler to drive you.”
    Instantly, Wahler stood up to go.
    Looking at Rutledge’s silhouette against the window, Flynn said, “Usually people rush to show the police the corpse. Seldom are we invited in, given tea and, in a word, read our rights.”
    “You brought a man with you, Flynn.”
    “My driver.”
    “I’d like you to vouch for his discretion.”
    “You mean, his silence?”
    “This is a delicate matter, Flynn,” Rutledge said mostreasonably. “Huttenbach was young, with a wife and children. Other family. He represented an important constituency. He was enormously popular, greatly respected. A young man with a great future in national politics. I believe it important not to nullify such a man in death. Don’t you? Don’t you think it important not to break people’s hearts?”
    A week before, also at dawn, Flynn had arrived at a city housing project. A man had been stabbed to death by his wife. They had eight children. People from the project were stirring around in various sleep apparel, barefooted for the most part, crying, screaming, shouting things that were not understandable. Broken hearts were all over the sidewalk and the stairs. Most of the eight children were huddled in a corner of the open kitchen, like so many wide-eyed, trembling mice in a trap. One fat daughter sat on a bed watching cartoons on color television. The man had