Coney Island Nocturne

I haven't kept you waiting. Yes, this is the crime club. I'm the librarian. Coney Island Nocturne. Yes, we have a story for you. Come right over. You're here. Good. Take the easy chair by the window. Comfortable?

Well, manuscript is on this shelf. Here it is, Coney Island Nocturne, the very absorbing story of fingers that were nailed by death. Let's look at it under the reading lamp. When Mike Donahue brought Helen O'Malley to Coney Island for an evening of fun, he had only the best intentions. Naturally, he was an officer of the law, a detective, and she

He was his fiancée. But three hours later, they stood in the middle of a crowded, noisy carnival street. They were faced with a crisis of catastrophic proportions. Mike, I'm afraid I'll never understand you. How many times have I told you never to keep your wallet in your hip pocket?

If you were just another polluper who didn't know any better, then well all right. But you're a member of the Pit Pocket Squad. You're supposed to know. Haven't you got anything to say? How much money have you got on you?

Enough to get us home. Helen, you're not going to tell the boys at the stationers. No, dear. I still expect to marry you someday. I want congratulations, not sympathy. Yeah, well... Right. Who's that? Look over there, honey, and you'll see a character.

Hey, you're Mike! Well, I never thought I'd be glad to see you. Denny Gould. You recognize me, don't you? Put me over, pal. I've done a 60-day stretch in a workhouse, and I ain't a bit tired.

What are you doing down here, Denny? I thought your territory was Times Square. You got a job, I'm going straight, Mike. You don't say. Yep. I got fed up looking through bars. So now I'm a bocker for a show up to straight.