About the Book

“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Steeplechase Park, where cares and woes vanish! Where the fleeting pleasure of the moment is all that matters! Where anything you can dream can be yours…and all for a nickel!”

The barker’s voice boomed but could barely be heard above the crowd’s din. A perfect early summer day had lured the masses from the nearby New York City boroughs to Coney Island. From families to felons, everyone came to see the wonders of the famed “poor man’s Riviera.”

Moving through the colorful and excited crowd, Jake Corrigan walked with his usual nonchalance. A tall man with sharp features and blue eyes that could go from sparkling to ice in the space of a wisecrack, he had the look of a guy who was always up to something. At the moment, he wore an expression of amusement; he never tired of seeing how much people enjoyed a day away from their usual routines. The beaming faces hungrily took in the park’s many attractions: the tunnel of love, the loop-the-loop, and the Tickler.

Though he moved slowly, Corrigan was stalking prey. Just ahead of him, a squat, nervous-looking guy sporting three days’ growth of beard and a soiled suit was moving at a good clip. And bizarrely, he was pushing a bright-pink baby carriage.

“Sharky Moon,” Corrigan muttered to himself. “Somehow I just don’t see you as father of the year.”

Stepping up his pace, Corrigan glanced to the side at three men huddled over a table near a refreshment counter. Keeping Moon within his line of sight, Corrigan made a quick detour to his right and kicked over the table, sending the players’ cards—and their ante—up and over the boardwalk.

“Against the law, gents,” Corrigan said, grinning and flashing his security badge. “Read the park rules.”

Ahead, Moon picked up his pace and wheeled the carriage around a stern-faced preacher who was trying to get the crowd’s attention.

“Go back! Turn away from this immorality! This place is Sodom by the Sea!”

“Why the hell you think we’re here, fodder?” Moon cracked. “’Scuse da language.”

Moon slowed down as he joined a crowd that had gathered at the foot of a wide pool. Everyone looked up at a huge wooden tower that sat in the water. From its top, four steep slides descended into the pool depths.

Corrigan slowed to take in the new attraction. Squinting upward, he spied a fair-haired woman inside the tower, looking down. She anxiously surveyed the crowd from above and then glanced at Corrigan.

“Hey, it’s that strawberry blonde I keep seein’! What’s she doing up there?” Corrigan mused to himself as he smoothed back his jet-black hair and gave his default wise-guy smile.

Rolling her eyes, the woman vanished back into the tower.

Corrigan shrugged. “May you one day be in distress, fair damsel.”

Glancing back around, he spotted Moon talking to an obviously well-to-do young couple, perfectly outfitted in parasols and patent leather. The woman was looking nervously down into the carriage.

“Gonna guess that Uncle Sharky ain’t the babysitter,” Corrigan muttered as he approached.

A trumpet suddenly pealed at the tower base and a top-hatted man stepped grandly out onto a raised platform. “Ladies and gentlemen! Didya know that the hot dog was invented right here at Coney Island?” he enthused. “It’s true! And didya know that Kid Lavigne and Gentleman Jim Corbett’ll both be fightin’ here tomorrow night? It’s true!”

The crowd clearly didn’t give a damn, so the barker tried again by gesturing to two well-dressed men who stood to the side. “And tonight, our beloved park owner, Mr. George Tilyou, and our manager, Mr. Nathan Caps, are presenting the greatest thrill yet seen in this or any park!”

Tilyou nervously patted his push broom mustache as he bowed to the crowd, and then turned and nodded toward Caps, an elegant-looking man with almost blindingly white hair.

“It’s a never-before-experienced spectacle, folks: the Water Chutes!”

The puzzled crowd glanced at the wooden slides down which steady streams of water were rushing. Corrigan looked around and smirked. “Unless Teddy Roosevelt himself comes shooting down that slide, this attraction is a bust.”

The barker dramatically played his last card: “If you stay to witness this terrifyingly dangerous feat, the management will not assume responsibility for your safety. If you have any fears, you have sixty seconds to exit.…”

The audience was baited but still undecided when suddenly an earsplitting cry pierced the afternoon air.

“RAAH-HAAAAAA!”

An instant hush fell. Everyone looked around, wondering where the sound had come from and just what the hell it was.

“RAAH-HAAAAAA!”

Once again, even louder, the cry rang out over the park—this time clearly from the top of the tower. It was followed by a thunderous stomping sound that shook the tower from top to bottom and caused a heavy plank to fall from above. It landed with a gigantic splash, dousing a good portion of the crowd.

“You now have twenty seconds to exit.…”