Free Flynn's World by Gregory McDonald Page A

policeman?”
    “Yes.” Flynn nodded his head. “Chaos terrifies me.”
    “Mr. Flynn?”
    A woman in a tailored suit carrying a canvas bag of books rose from a chair in the foyer of the Faculty Club.
    “Yes?”
    “I believe I’m on your schedule to be interviewed. Or is ‘questioned’ the right word? I’m Francine Huong.”
    “Dr. Huong, is it?”
    “Yes. Some years ago I was Dr. Loveson’s teaching assistant. I saw you lunching with Dean Wincomb. You’re probably in a hurry.”
    “Not at all. You weren’t at the soiree at the dean’s home last night, Dr. Huong.”
    “No. I never attend such ice-cube fights.” She looked around the foyer. She nodded at two chairs. “If you have the time, we could talk there?”
    “Certainly.”
    Sitting, she said, “I’m very, very fond of Louie Loveson. His life is being threatened.”
    “The President told me you say so.”
    “About three weeks ago, I was in his office looking for a magazine he said he would leave for me. A book was open on his desk. What he seemed to be using as a bookmark was odd-shaped and colorful. I thought perhaps some child had made it for him. It was only natural for me to look at it.” Her chin and her voice lowered. “It read, ‘U die within month.’ The word ‘You’ was just written with a capital U, do you understand?”
    “That’s very odd.”
    “Why?”
    “Not very academic, is it?”
    “I suppose not. But anybody—”
    “Yes. Anybody.”
    “Louie came in. When he saw what I was looking at, he snapped it from my hand. Mr. Flynn, I’ve known and worked with Louie Loveson for years. Never have I seen him angry. About anything. When he grabbed that piece of paper from me, there was horrible anger in his eyes. At me!”
    “That’s odd, too. Anger at your seeing it, instead of at the note itself?”
    “Yes. I tried to ask him about it. I was stammering. In shock, at seeing what the note said. At seeing his anger. He yelled at me. He waved his arm at me. ‘Get out! Get out!’”
    “Three weeks ago, you said.”
    “About three weeks ago.”
    “‘U die within month.’ Have you spoken with him since?”
    “Many times. But I’ve never mentioned that note to him. I’ve never dared.”
    “And you don’t have the note?”
    “No. I said he took it from me.”
    “You didn’t see him throw it away?”
    “No.”
    “Besides letting the President, or the President’s office know about the note, have you done anything else about it?”
    “I’ve talked about Professor Loveson in the most general terms to a few people I trust. Without telling them I saw such a note. I got the impression some sort of a game is going on, to harass him. Perhaps I’m taking it too seriously, but I don’t think it’s very nice, if so. One faculty wit said, ‘It’s time that old bird had some of his feathers plucked. He’s already half-baked.’”
    “And what was this half-wit’s name?”
    She sighed. “Don Carver. I expect he’s on your list.”
    “He is.” Cocky had received material, including a list of people to be seen, and rough schedules, from the President’s office before Flynn had arrived at Old Records that morning.
    “Mr. Flynn?” The voice came from behind his chair. “Are you Mr. Flynn?”
    “Yes.”
    “Telephone, sir. Will you come to the desk?”
    “Frank?” Cocky’s voice remained cheerful. “Perhaps with my newfound wealth I’ll buy you one of those portable telephones.”
    “Don’t you dare.”
    “Why not? It would make life much easier for me.”
    “With a phone forever buzzing in my pocket, how would I ever have time to reflect? You’re winning enough chess games off me as it is.”
    “Grover’s at CommonWealth Hospital.”
    “What’s he doing there?”
    “Got hit by a car, or something.”
    “Did Grover call you himself?”
    “Professor Loveson did.”
    “Professor— Is he at the hospital, too?”
    “I guess he’s the one who brought Grover to the hospital. I couldn’t understand