The Friends of Eddie Coyle

by George V. Higgins

She was also wearing wheat-colored jeans. There were noticeable stains at the crotch.

“It’s a great life,” Scalisi said, “if you don’t weaken, it’s a great life.”

“Well, let’s see,” Eddie Coyle said. “Twelve for the first batch, the eight. Then there was another dozen, eighteen bucks for that. Now there’s ten here, another fifteen hundred. Forty-five hundred. I’ll throw in the steaks.”

My kid brother talks about his goddamned Mustang the same way you talk about me. ‘I just reach down there every so often and set her off.’ For Christ sake. I thought we were friends. I thought we liked each other.

How’d you like it if I was to start telling the girl at the store about your prick and what you like me to do with it? With me, the things you like to do with me, would you like that?”

“Just like Mission Impossible,” Waters said. “Efrem Zimbalist is my favorite,” Foley said. “Just like the Eff a-Bee-Eye.”

Robert Biggers felt a surge of wrathful protectiveness. On three Thursday evenings, after eight o’clock closing, he had taken Nancy Williams to dinner at the Post House. He had purchased several drinks for her. Then he had taken her to the Lantern Lodge and undressed her and screwed the socks off her. She was young and firm, and her nipples came up fast under tweaking.

Robert Biggers moved his left foot slowly to the left under the desk and hit the alarm button.

The only one fucking Eddie Coyle is Eddie Coyle.

Corporal Vardenais of the Massachusetts State Police was eating breakfast at two o’clock in the morning at the Eastern Airlines lunchroom at Logan Airport.

The story said that Branch Manager Harold W. Burrell had died of a skull fracture suffered three days before when he was pistol-whipped

Wanda Emmett, wearing her Northeast uniform, took the counter seat next to Corporal Vardenais. “You say hello to your friends since you got promoted, Roge?” she said.

“You aren’t gonna believe this,” she said. “Up in Orange. I live up in Orange.” “God,” Vardenais said, “that’s way up and hell and gone. How far is that, about a three hour drive?” “Couple hours,” she said. “I was thinking, it’d be good for skiing and all. It wasn’t a very good idea.”

“He have a rich uncle die and leave him some money?” Vardenais said. “Three rich uncles,” she said, “and all of them died this month or so.” “Isn’t that funny?” Vardenais said. “Isn’t it,” she said. “I understand there’s another one that’s in pretty poor health, too.” “Were they all in the banking business?” Vardenais said.

Sells, I figure he sells beaver pictures. And he does. He tells me, though, he does a pretty good business in pictures of boys, too, boys with big dicks. I ask him, who buys them, and he says, the same guys that buy the other stuff, the ones of the girls.” “It’s a funny world,” Foley said.

Last year he invited me to go down to New Orleans, there, to the Super Bowl, and he picks up the whole tab for me, plane fare, ticket, everything, and I say to him, what do you want from me, and you know what he says? He says: ‘I thought you’d like to see the game, is all.’ And it really was. A genuine nice guy.”

But I don’t happen to remember his name right now, if it’s all the same to you. I’d rather leave him out of this if I can.”

“Good,” Webber said, the mask now covering his face. “I wonder what the fuck it was got Dillon so stirred up then?”

“He was worried about Coyle,” Scalisi said. “I believe him. He was wondering if maybe Coyle was swapping us for that thing he’s got going up in New Hampshire, there.”

They were all facing the door to the hall when Ferris and Sauter came into the kitchen from the back entryway.

Sauter said: “April fool, motherfuckers.”

The man treated him like he was his son. Which some people say he was.”

“Seems Donnie was sitting outside the Colony Cooperative this morning like he was waiting for somebody, and instead of the people he was expecting to show up, some cops with masks and jackets on show up, and he gets out of his car, he’s got a mask on too, and a gun, and they tell him he’s under arrest, I suppose, and the next thing you know, there’s some shooting. He was dead on arrival. The man’s very upset.”

“They all got bagged in a house up in Nahant this morning.

“We hadda break him up a while back here. He set up Billy Wallace there with a gun that had a history. We hadda teach him. I thought he learned his lesson. I threw a little work his way myself now and then.”

had him driving a truck for me and a fellow up in New Hampshire there and he got hooked with it.

nobody got hurt but the guy that was supposed to get hurt.

“Blasphemy,” Foley said. “I always wanted to charge a guy with blasphemy.”

You can’t tell you know, we might run into something and you wouldn’t want to go right home. So, why call her?”

As he got up, Dillon observed that he might ask if anybody wanted a beer.

He’s the best hockey player inna world. Christ, number four, Bobby Orr. What a future he’s got.”

“Hey Foss,” the prosecutor said, taking Clark by the arm, “of course it changes. Don’t take it so hard. Some of us die, the rest of us get older, new guys come along, old guys disappear. It changes every day.”