Flynn's In by Gregory Mcdonald

Author:Gregory Mcdonald [Mcdonald, Gregory]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Knopf Group E-Books
Published: 2010-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

20

“Sprightly lad, that Taylor,” Flynn said to Cocky as he re-entered the music room. “Who said we all lead lives of quiet desperation? And where have you been the while?”

“I had dinner out.”

“Wise man. I didn’t have dinner in.”

“I took a bottle of Scotch from the bar table and walked down to Hewitt’s cabin by the lake. We had fried fish and venison steak together. I brought you back a bag of apples.”

“I smelled the fish boiling, too.” Flynn, hands on hips, surveyed the murder room. “Didn’t think of taking evasive action.”

“He’s not a well man, Frank.”

“I’ve heard.”

“You can see a strange protuberance through his shirt. His skin is more yellowish than weathered, you know what I mean? I think he should be in the hospital.”

“And young Taylor is in the basement trying to burn off enough energy for nine people, all of them husbands.” Flynn nodded to the bewigged, evening-gowned male corpse collapsed on the piano keys. “And there’s a member of the bench who’s played his last bar. Have you discovered anything interesting?”

“Strangled by an ordinary piece of used clothesline, knotted at both ends. The murder took some preparation, therefore, but not much. I’d say whoever strangled him was very strong. The clothesline is deeply embedded in his neck. It’s possible the neck is broken.”

“The murderer didn’t hesitate. I mean, he did it quickly, then. No need for him to take a second breath.” Flynn got down on his hands and knees on the floor just inside the veranda door.

“Nothing of interest on the veranda visible in this light.”

Flynn’s head was as nearly at eye-level with the floor as possible. “Where shoes and boots might not leave a mark on a bare floor, sweaty bare feet do.”

“Oland?”

Standing, Flynn gauged the distance from the door’s threshold to the faded oriental carpet. “But sure, anyone could make that leap. It’s hardly more than a step.”

“Or the murderer, thinking he might be caught in the room with Lauderdale, could simply have opened the door, to make us think someone had come in and gone out that way. Or just gone out.”

“Rutledge was here when we arrived,” said Flynn. “And we were just next door.”

“You didn’t hear anything, Frank?”

“I did. I heard the old boy croaking. At first I thought it was part of his after-dinner act. It wasn’t until I heard the distinctly male voice that I realized it was no act.”

Cocky said, “I put the apples in your room. And moved my Pawn to Queen Four.”

“Pawn to Queen Four, eh? Now, that’s interesting.” Flynn turned the lock in the door to the veranda. “Does that door to the corridor lock?”

“No.”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Flynn. “Let’s get them all in the great hall anyway. I have a few choice words to utter. Don’t I just!”

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