Coney Read Online Free Page A

in fart air.”
    â€œSmell much pussy?”
    â€œAll the time.”
    Menter smiled.
    â€œWoody, you think FDR screws his old lady?”
    â€œThey got a shitload a’ kids.”
    â€œJesus Christ, you’re a dummy,” Menter said, patting Woody’s head lightly, then increasing the force until he drew sound, “they had those kids before he got the paralysis.”
    â€œOh.”
    Menter cupped his hand under his genitals and said:
    â€œI don’t know about FDR, but this can still do plenty damage.”
    Woody knew different. The whores at Rosie’s (owned by Menter) had told him that Menter would have them up to his apartment, sometimes two and three at a time, working for hours on his limp piece of meat.
    â€œSure thing, Vic,” he said, forming a circle with his thumb and forefinger.
    â€œYou understand what Noonan told us, Woody?”
    â€œSure. Buy the Midway property and then some.”
    Menter grimaced.
    â€œDumb. Dumb. Dumb. You got a dwarf brain. He covered his ass in case anything fucks up, but he told us to burn it, then pick up the ruins for nothing. That way, him and we make the most money and he figures it will give Moses the idea to step in quick, like a prince, to save Coney.”
    â€œGeez.”
    â€œWhat geez! Ain’t you never seen a Coney fire before? The kikes set them all the time to collect insurance.”
    â€œSure, but the whole Midway …”
    The car passed a truck that had been pulled over by a police officer.
    â€œHey,” Menter said, “wasn’t that Jamie, the ambidextrous cop?”
    â€œYeah,” Woody answered, “still takin’ money with both hands. Jamie can figure a shakedown from his grandmother. I wonder how much he’ll get from that driver?”
    â€œPennies compared to the old days,” Menter replied, blowing smoke toward the roof of the car and tilting his head to watch it curl upward.
    â€œYeah,” he continued, “those were the days when Coney was
the
place. All that wide-open beach and all those speedboats grabbing mother lodes of real booze from mother ships.”
    Menter laughed.
    â€œOnce Jamie forgot to check out the Coast Guard on a hot weekend. Speedboats so low in the water with hootch that the booze is makin’ mixed drinks with the ocean. They’re just about to land at Norton’s Point when they spot this Coast Guard cutter. They turn ass and head back to open sea, flying right along the beach. The people on the beach think it’s some kind of race until the Coast Guard opens fire. Then it begins to dawn what’s happening.
    â€œJamie, who was on the Steeplechase pier, knows exactly what’s happening. So quick, he figures a way to cover his ass. He runs to the end of the pier, pulls his gun and fires at the speedboats which are maybe a hundred yards out of his range. He was even yelling:
Halt, police!
By now the crowd is rooting for the runners. A million people screaming. Then the motor of the Coast Guard ship conks out and it drifts while the runners disappear. Later, Jamie tells the Feds he’s sure he hit something and they ask to see the Big Bertha he was lugging with him.”
    â€œI heard about that,” Woody said.
    â€œYeah, that was when Frankie Yale was Mr. Coney Island. Frankie gave me my start. He was related to me on my mother’s side. When I got the paralysis he said not to worry. Told me to work with my brain. He was right.”
    â€œI seen his funeral. Wasn’t it the biggest ever in Coney?”
    â€œYeah. People came from all over. Frankie was a travelin’ man. Frankie goes to Chicago and Big Jim Colosimo dies. Frankie shakes hands with Dean O’Banion and Dean gets a great funeral. Al Capone used to work as a bartender in one of Frankie’s Coney joints. Frankie never trusted him. He was right. Frankie got shot to pieces on Al’s orders.”
    In Menter’s penthouse apartment