Flynn's In by Gregory McDonald Read Free Book Online Page A

how can I investigate when there can be no control over the situation? When all the evidence has been tampered with before I got here? When a potential presidential candidate slips through the hole in the fence at dawn? When a major American newspaper publisher helicopters out of here between breakfast and lunch?”
    “Ah,” said Rutledge. “Now you see one of the problems. You may not be pleased at our use of local authorities, term us ‘arrogant’, as you did, but do you think the Inspector of Roads could get control over this situation?”
    “State authorities could get control,” said Flynn, “if you gave it to them.”
    “Have Caxton’s name dragged through a murder investigation? Have Walter’s competing newspapers hint at his complicity in a shotgun killing?”
    “Have it revealed unto the world,” countered Flynn, “that such a place as The Rod and Gun Club exists?”
    Rutledge stood, wandered behind his chair, and looked through the small window.
    “That’s the fact of life, Flynn. That’s what you’re dealing with. Local police aren’t equipped to investigate this incident, and you know it. And we do want it investigated quickly and well. D’Esopo named you, and you are the man for the job.”
    “You’ve got to understand,” Wahler offered humbly, “the members of The Club, well, when they have a legal problem, they call in the top attorney in the country for advice. When they have a medical problem—”
    “I’m complimented,” said Flynn. “When they need bread, they have toast.”
    “They’ve gotten in a special private investigator,” Wahler concluded lamely.
    “What you’ve run into here, Flynn,” said Rutledge looking through the window at thousands of fenced-in acres, “is privacy. An idea diminished by contemporary society, but still, not a bad idea at all.”
    “And what other problems do I have?” asked Flynn.
    “Another problem is pretty obvious,” Rutledge said to the window pane. “Obviously, the bastard who shot Dwight Huttenbach is one of us.”
    “Ach, tell me something I didn’t know,” said Flynn. “And when I catch the bastard, what do you want me to do with him—privately?”
    Rutledge turned and looked down at his feet. “We’ll see.” He cleared his throat. “I can assure you, Flynn, no one here is going to go off half-cocked. We have our own resources. Considerable resources. At The Rod and Gun Club the members consult with each other constantly. There will be no decisions independently made.”
    Flynn thought of a recent bank robbery in Boston. One of the desperately nervous robbers shot another robber when the second robber didn’t obey fast enough. The first robber, besides being indicted for bank robbery, was also charged with attempted murder while committing a felony.
    Wahler said, “I’ll bring you down and show you where Huttenbach was killed.”
    “And I can assure you, Rutledge,” Flynn said, standing up, “that when it comes time for your special investigator, and my portable witness, Concannon, to testify, you’ll hear nothing from our mouths but the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
    “We’ll see.” Rutledge turned his back on Flynn, again to look through the small window. “If this matter is disposed of correctly, there might never be reason for anyone to testify.”

8
     
    “T here are two people at table I expect you don’t know,” Charles Rutledge said at the beginning of lunch. He smiled engagingly at the man seated at the thick round table. “At least I hope you have no reason to know. I think most of you have met Boston Police Commissioner D’Esopo.”
    Eddy D’Esopo sat across the round table from Rutledge in his double-knit jacket, his heavy face lined with sleeplessness.
    “D’Esopo is not a member, as you know, but has been a guest two or three times the last year.” From where he was seated, Rutledge turned his open face to the right, to Flynn. “This, gentlemen, is Inspector