Nightshades (Nameless Detective) by Bill Pronzini Read Free Book Online

Help!”
    Some of Miss Irwin’s coolly efficient facade had melted and she had her hand up to her mouth. She said, “Frank!” and started for the door, but I got there ahead of her, yanked it open, and went barreling into Frank O’Daniel’s private office like Fearless Fosdick to the rescue.

CHAPTER FIVE
    They were over at a big executive’s desk set in front of a sunlit window. One of them, bigger by fifty pounds, wearing Levi’s and a denim shirt, had the other sprawled backward across the desk and was choking him and whacking his head against the glass top. The desk chair had been upended, a scatter of dislodged papers and paraphernalia and the remains of a glass water pitcher were on the carpet, and the telephone receiver dangled free over the desk’s side. The one getting himself choked, a little guy in a white linen suit, kept trying to catch hold of the receiver, to use it as a weapon; he kept trying to kick and punch the big one too. But he couldn’t get enough leverage to do any damage in return. His eyes bulged and his face had begun to mottle. He made terrified squawking sounds, like a mauled chicken.
    I kept moving while I took all of this in. The heavy guy heard me coming and jerked his head around, but even when I got to him and caught hold of his shoulder, he didn’t let go of the little man’s neck. Instead he tried to shrug me off the way you’d rid yourself of a pesky insect; his eyes were full of blind fury. I hung onto him one-handed, got a grip on his shirt with my other hand, set myself, and used all my weight and strength to break his hold and wrench him aside. He staggered halfway across the room, ran into a chair, and fell over it. When he hit the floor it was like a small building collapsing.
    The little guy squirmed around on the desk, holding his throat and squawking some more. Miss Irwin ran over to him; hauled him into a sitting position and tugged his hand away so she could check on how much damage had been done. I took her actions to mean that he was Frank O’Daniel—not that I’d had much doubt of it.
    I kept my attention on the big man. He was up on all fours now, shaking his head, looking dazed; there wasn’t any way to tell yet what he might do next. He was around fifty, powerfully built, going bald on top, with not much neck and not much chin. Running to fat, though. Even when he was on his feet, his paunch would hide the belt buckle on his Levi’s.
    I said to Miss Irwin, “Your boss okay?”
    “He’s bruised but he’ll be all right.”
    “He need a doctor?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “This man here—you know him?”
    “Yes. His name is Coleclaw.”
    “Jack Coleclaw? From Musket Creek?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why the attack? Any idea?”
    She shook her head, looking at O’Daniel again. His squawks had tapered off into a series of heavy panting breaths: hyperventilation. Miss Irwin got him up off the desk and helped him over to the window and hoisted the sash to let in some fresh air. She held him steady, saying, “Breathe deeply and slowly. That’s right. Deeply and slowly.”
    The big guy, Coleclaw, was upright now, but there wasn’t going to be any more trouble. The fury had been jarred out of him; he wore a stunned expression, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just tried to do to O’Daniel. He looked over at the developer, looked at me, and said in a hollow voice, “Christ. I didn’t mean . . . I wouldn’t have . . .” Then he clamped his mouth shut, rolled his eyes, pivoted, and lumbered out of there.
    I thought about trying to stop him, but I didn’t feel like any more roughhousing. Besides, we all knew his name and where he lived. So I let him go. A couple of seconds later the outer door banged shut, and as soon as it did O’Daniel got his breath back and started making noise.
    “He tried to strangle me! You saw it, Shirley—he tried to murder me! He’s crazy! They’re all madmen out there!”
    I said, “Take it easy, Mr.