East is East, West is West

Detective Brad Wilshire sat at his desk at Los Angeles Police Headquarters, going over a lab report from a recent case that he was working. 

Lousy TV cop shows… he thought. Can’t get a conviction these days without DNA evidence…

The phone on his desk rang. The light indicated that it was the switchboard operator. He answered.

"Hello?"

"Tracy? What does he want?"

"Ok, put him through."

Wilshire drummed his fingers on his desk. He’d crossed paths with Dick Tracy and his wife some time ago, and the two detectives had not gotten along.

"Yeah, this is Detective Wilshire. What's this about, Tracy?"

"Yeah, I did work the Orlock case. It was ruled a suicide."

"Who?"

"No, I heard you. I’m saying I don’t know who ‘Alfred Brau Jr.’ is."

"OK, so where’s your evidence?"

"You’re pulling my leg."

"No, seriously. You’re saying that just because this Brau guy CLAIMED credit for killing Orlock, he MUST have done it, and I got it wrong?"

"Yeah? What kind of investigation?"

"…"

"One guy. You called ONE GUY who barely knew Orlock and THAT’S why you're convinced that it wasn’t a suicide?"

"No, listen to me, Tracy, I want to ask you a few things. Did you come out here? Did you examine the body? Did you read the autopsy report? Did you interview any of his friends, or relatives, or other associates?"

"No, of course you didn’t. Because you’re the Great Dick Tracy, right? Well, I DID all of those things, and out of professional courtesy, I will share a few things with you."

"First of all, Orlock was in debt up to his eyeballs. He liked gambling and he borrowed from some loan sharks to finance his hobby. Didn’t know that, did you?"

"Also, he had a girlfriend that he just found out was expecting. Yeah, ‘expecting’. I’m being delicate because I know you're old-fashioned."

"Finally, the room where the body was found showed no signs of a struggle, and the body itself was clean of any marks or foreign substances in the bloodstream. Which means he wasn’t drugged. You ever try to use a noose as a murder weapon on someone who was awake and able to fight back? IT DOES NOT WORK."

"Orlock killed himself, Tracy, and I’d be willing to bet that that’s why your perp took on this 'Hangman' identity. So he could claim credit for a death that he wasn’t actually responsible for."

"Yeah, well, if you can prove otherwise, go ahead. I’m not vain. I’d love to see justice done, believe me."

"Uh-huh. Give my best to your wife."

Wilshire hung up the phone. Jackass… he thought. Enjoy your cold winters…

The Common Room

Tinky walked down the hallway of the Stony Brook Assisted Living Facility. The floor was clean and the air smelled fresh, but she made a note that one of the overhead lights was flickering. She passed one of the residents, Adrian, as he left the common room.

“Did Edgar beat you at chess again?” She asked him, teasingly. The older man smiled wanly.

“Naw. It’s just that guy’s here again.”

Tinky frowned. “Homer? Was he rude to you?”

“Naw, naw. There’s something about his voice, gets on my nerves.” Adrian sighed heavily. “Must be just me though. The ladies can’t get enough of him. Lucky devil…” 

Tinky giggled as Adrian shuffled off. She entered the spacious common room and made her way to the Computer Corner. They had recently upgraded to six up-to-date desktop computers with flatscreen monitors. At the moment, though, all four of the women residents in the room were gathered around one terminal. Agnes Cummings was seated in front of it, with a dark-haired younger man at her side. Agnes was looking at different parts of the monitor.

“Can he see me? Where’s the camera?” Agnes asked.

“Yes, he can see you. The camera’s right there.” The man pointed at the built-in webcam on the monitor. Then he pointed at a smaller window on the screen. “And there’s where you can see what he’s seeing.”

“Is it a recording?” Agnes asked.

“No, this is all live. Right now.” The man explained. “Say hello to your grandson.”

“But can he hear me?” Agnes shouted at the screen. “Connor, can you hear me?”

“I can hear you, grandma!” The boy on the screen said excitedly. He held up a crude painting “I made THIS is school today!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Agnes beamed. “It’s like you were here in the room with me!” She turned to the ladies around her. “Isn’t he adorable? And he’s so talented!”

There was a murmur of agreement. Agnes pulled the man next to her in front of the camera. “Connor! This is my friend Homer! He’s the one who taught me how to use the computer! Can you say hello?”

“Hello Homer!” The boy yelled. Homer smiled awkwardly.

“Um, hi.” Homer stood from where he was crouching. “I’ll let you two talk.”

“You’ll be back to help me when it’s my turn, won’t you?” Asked one of the other ladies.

“And mine?” Chimed in another.

“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere. I just, uh-" he looked up and saw Tinky. “I have to talk to Tinky about something. I’ll be around.”

He stood and walked over to Tinky. They were nearly the same height, though Tinky was slightly taller in her boots.

“Am I ever glad to see you…” Homer sighed.

“You know, Homer, if you were thirty years older, you could have your pick of any woman in the place.” Tinky teased him.

“What, you mean…? Ugh!” Homer wrinkled his nose. “I like my fruit a little more fresh, thanks.”

Tinky was struck by Homer’s coarse tone. She tried to lighten their conversation. “I do appreciate you coming around and giving these lessons. It means the world to them.”

“Yeah, well, you paid me for the equipment, right? You might as well get your money’s worth out of it.”

Homer looked over his shoulder, then back at Tinky.

“Plus, you know, I don’t really mind having an excuse to come back see you again.” He grinned widely. 

Tinky smiled politely, but she found his manner off-putting. She tried to change the subject. “Uh-huh. Have you been in the computer business long?” 

“Oh, not specifically.” Homer seemed to forget his amorous tone when given the opportunity to talk about himself. “I got into it through some other interests. Surveillance, intelligence gathering, security, stuff like that. I’m mostly interested in sound design, and that’s motivated by my music.”

Homer puffed his chest up a litte. “I’m a musician, you know. I’m technically proficient in four instruments. And sound-mixing. And composing. Plus, I can DJ.”

“Great.” Tinky said, non-committally. “That’s very impressive."

“Yeah, it is. Hey, can we grab a chair? I really did want to talk to you about something.”

The pair went to a table in the common room and sat on opposite sides. Homer leaned close and spoke in a hushed tone.

“So, look, I have to wonder, “ He began. “In a business like this, how often does it happen that someone… You know, dies, but nobody realizes it for a couple of days?”

Tinky was shocked. “Days? Never.” She shook her head, composing a response. “Residents do pass away, yes, that comes with the territory with a facility like this. But me and the rest of the staff are very attentive. If someone passes in the night, they’ll be found the next day. Why would you ask something like that?”

“I didn’t know how much coming-and-going there was.” He explained. “But, okay, fine, you have people that check on them every day. But, what happens if a resident loses something and then accuses one of your people of stealing from them. Or, what if one of your people IS stealing? Or mistreating the residents in some other way? Elder abuse is a big deal, you know.”

“Yeah, I know that. Why are you asking?” Tinky was growing impatient.

Homer reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, flat cylindrical device. It was approximately the size of a Life Savers candy.

“I make these miniature cameras.” Homer explained. “This is some Diet Smith-level stuff right here. 12 megapixel resolution, built-in sound recording, and the video can be saved to a removable drive, or broadcast to a wi-fi enabled terminal for hard-drive storage. Basically, you can record everything. You put a couple of these in the residents’ room, the hallways, and the common areas, and you’ve got instant 24-hour surveillance and accountability.”

Tinky sat there with her jaw open for a moment. Finally, she spoke.

“Are you… Are you REALLY suggesting that I should hide video cameras in my residents’ rooms and record them without their knowledge? And do the same thing to my staff?”

Homer's face fell. “Well, yeah, I mean, in the interest of safety and security, I thought-"

“Forget it!” Tinky’s voice was louder than she had meant, and several of the residents turned at the noise. She smiled at them and waved, then turned back to Homer. “This is outrageous.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Well don’t, all right?” Tinky stood. “When you’re done with the computer tutorial, show yourself out. Spec will have a check for you at the front desk.”

Tinky stormed off. Homer slumped in his chair. “Women…” he mumbled.

Two Weeks Later

Homer drove his Hybrid up to the main entrance of Stony Brook and parked. He practically skipped up to the door. He had been very excited to receive Tinky’s phone call inviting to come back and discuss his proposed surveillance system.

She probably just needed some time to get used to the idea, he thought. All of my plans are coming together…

He approached the front desk and saw Tinky standing there. He smiled widely. Then, a familiar figure stepped out from the inner office. He was wearing a bow tie.

“Hiya, Peanut Butter. Been a while.” Sam Catchem said, grinning insincerely.

Homer looked surprised for a moment. Then he smiled. “Oh, hi Sam. It’s okay if I call you ‘Sam’, right?”

“I’d prefer ‘Detective Catchem’.” Sam said, still smiling.

“Oh. Okay.’ Homer turned to Tinky. “Me and Detective Catchem go way back.”

“I’ve heard.” Tinky said flatly.

“Yeah, Peanut Butter here was quite the little terror back in the day.” Sam offered.

“Nobody calls me ‘Peanut Butter’ anymore.” Homer said.

“No? What do they call you? Because I can think of a few things.” Tinky stood and slapped her hand down on the counter. She lifted it, revealing one of Homer’s miniature cameras. They stood there in silence for a moment.

“Nothing?” Tinky asked. “I found it behind that plant when I was dusting,” She indicated one of the houseplants on a shelf behind the front desk. “It was pointed at my desk. Where I work. All day.”

“It’s an impressive piece of equipment.” Sam added. “It’s like something Diet Smith himself would come up with.”

“I haven’t acknowledged that that’s mine, or that I put it there.” Homer said, flatly.

“You KNOW it’s yours! You showed it to me yourself!” Tinky was getting worked up.

“Prove it.” Homer crossed his arms.

“You know, Peanut Butter,” Sam began, “Whenever someone tells a cop to ‘prove it’, that usually means that they’re guilty. And that they think they’re smarter than the cop. Now, this is a rest home, which means they don’t allow smoking. And I’ve been standing here talking to Tinky for a while, which means I haven’t had a cigarette and I’m a little irritable. So maybe you want to adjust your tone and tactics, huh?”

Homer remained quiet.

“Won’t confirm or deny, huh? Okay.” Sam breathed heavily. “Here’s the situation. I could get a warrant and search your place and confiscate a LOT of your property and equipment to try and find a link to this camera here. And, being a dumb cop, that might take me a while. And Tinky here could go in front of a judge and get a restraining order, and that’s something that, as a cop, I could actually make happen pretty quickly. And that goes on your criminal record, which is something that potential employers look at or people who might rent you an apartment or give you a loan or anything like that. Understand?”

Homer didn’t speak.

“Of course you understand. You’re a smart guy.” Sam walked out from behind the counter. He stepped closer to Homer, but kept his hands in his pockets. “So, since you and me go way back, I’ve convinced Tinky that you’re an honorable enough guy that when she tells you to stay away from her and her business and her residents, that you’ll abide by that. Because you’re so honorable, AND because you’re smart enough to figure what’ll happen to you if you DON’T go along with what she says.”

Sam met Homer’s gaze and held it until Homer looked away.

“I get it.” Homer said quietly.

“I knew you would.” Sam smiled. He withdrew half a sandwich from his jacket pocket and took a bite. 

“When I can’t smoke, I eat. I’d offer you some, but it’s pastrami not peanut butter.”

Homer looked back at Tinky. His voice was plaintive. “Look, Tinky, I really wanted to get to know you better, you know? To get close to you. That’s all. I think you’re really pretty, and sweet, and I don’t know anyone else like you.”

Tinky looked at him with her brow furrowed. “You’re a creep, Homer. I don’t know if you think you’re charming, or impressive or what, but this is NONE of those. It’s just gross. And until you figure that out, you’re going to be alone. And that doesn’t bother me at all.”

Sam put a hand on Homer’s shoulder. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Homer shrugged off Sam’s hand. “I’m leaving, all right?” He pointed back at the camera “And whoever designed and built that thing? He wasn’t just ‘impresive’. He was a genius. It’s too bad you can’t see that. You can stay here and decompose like the rest of the zombies for all I care.”

Homer stormed out. Sam turned back to Tinky.

“Personally, I don’t think he’s dangerous,” Sam began, “But if you want to go ahead with that restraining order, I can make it happen fast. I could even put a tail on him, if you want.”

Tinky rubbed her face. “No. Thanks, Sam. I really appreciate you coming out here like this. Are you going to tell Dick?”

“Do you want me to?” Sam asked.

“He’d just worry.” Tinky acknowledged. “I’ll be fine.”

Sam stood there, unsure what to do now. They heard Homer’s tires squeal in the driveway as he sped off.

“Do YOU want a bite of my sandwich?” Sam asked, weakly.

END

The Romantic Adventures of Rick Toffen, Pilot!

“Mr. Charles? That pilot is here for the interview.”

Hotshot Charlie looked to the doorway from where Wingy’s voice had come. He smiled widely.

“Terrific. Send him in!”

Charlie cleared some papers off his desk and rushed to put on his hat. He knew that it was technically impolite to wear it indoors, but the hat tended to impress people. Besides, he owned the company and the building, so he could wear what he wanted.

Rick Toffen entered Charlie’s office and approached the desk. Charlie rose and greeted him. They shook hands.

“Mr. Charles, it’s a pleasure.” Rick said.

“Call me Charlie, everybody does.” Charlie replied. “Have a seat. You want some coffee or anything?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Rick said as he settled himself  into a battered, overstuffed armchair. “This is a nice chair. It’s got personality.”

“Thanks!” Charlie responded. “We’re not too formal here at Hotshot Airlines. In fact, we’re like a little family.”

“That’s why I want to work for you, Charlie.” Rick leaned forward, selling himself. “I’ve flown for the big commercial airliners, and I’ve flown for some small-time, rinky-dink outfits. But I never really felt like I belonged at any of them.”  

“Yeah, I’ve looked over your résumè, and your flight records.” Charlie picked up a document. It was a random piece of paper from his desk, but his sharp mind recalled everything he had learned about his prospective new pilot. “You had a couple of near-misses a while back.”

“That’s true. They were the result of sabotage.” Rick didn’t dodge the question. “I saved my passengers’ lives, but the kites got a little banged up.”

Charlie laughed. “Kid, I’ve crashed a plane more times than you’ve bought new shoes!” 

To an outside observer, Charlie calling Rick “Kid” would have seemed odd. Charlie’s boyish, freckled face belied his age and experience, while Rick had a gaunt, lined visage that made him look older. Rick often found that it lent him an air of authority (which he liked), but it sometimes put him at a disadvantage in his love life.

“I’ll tell you what,” Charlie began. “We do a lot of different business here. Some commuter stuff, some freight. And sometimes special jobs can get a little hairy. But if you’ve got the nerve, and you’re really looking to set down roots, I think you’ll fit in here.”

“Really? So quick?” Rick was surprised. “That’s a pretty short interview.”

“Pfft, I knew I was going to hire you when I scheduled this meeting!” Charlie exclaimed.

“You did?” Rick’s eyebrows raised.

“Sure! What, you think I would call you in here and then NOT offer you a job? That’s bad manners!” Charlie stood again. “Can you start Monday?”

“Shoot, I could start after lunch!” Rick enthused. 

“That’s terrific.” Charlie circled his desk and took Rick’s hand as he stood. “If you can hang around, Wingy will get you started on some paperwork.”

Charlie leaned in conspiratorially.

“One more thing,” He asked. “How do you feel about pipe smoke?”

Rick was flummoxed “Well, not when I’m flying, of course…”

“Ha!” Charlie laughed “You’ll be up in the air so much, you won’t even notice it! Welcome to the family!”

Family… Rick thought.

That night, Rick Toffen and his girlfriend Maggie Irish were eating dinner at Club Gray to celebrate Rick’s new job. 

Rick and Maggie had been seeing each other for some time, despite their significant age difference and Maggie’s unpredictable temperament. The couple had a unique chemistry that kept them together. Even though they had broken up on a few occasions, they had always reconciled quickly, and Rick was certain that they would be together for a long, long time. And now that he had the job he had been waiting for,  he was ready to take the next step.

“This boss of yours sounds like a character.” Maggie said.

“He sure is. And he wants to meet you right away!” Rick explained.

Maggie looked surprised.

“You were talking about me? At the interview?” She wrinkled her nose at the idea.

“I showed him your picture and everything.” Rick chuckled. “He heard your name and insisted. He’s still got family back on the old Emerald Isle apparently.”

“That’s more than I’ve got.” Maggie said. “Now, if he ever wants to get shown around Boston…”

“You’ve never even shown ME around Boston!” Rick objected.

“We’ve never had a good reason to go!” Maggie shot back.

Rick laughed, then took a deep breath. He reached into his pocket.

“Well, I was going to wait until later, but if you insist on setting me up like that…” Rick pulled out a small ring box and held it out for her. “Will you marry me, Maggie?”

Maggie gasped. “Will I- yes! Yes, of course I’ll marry you, you big dumb fool!” 

Rick jumped up at pulled Maggie out of her seat, lifting her into the air with a hug. Their fellow diners looked around, surprised at the sudden display.

“She said yes!” Rick announced. “She’s gonna marry me!”

The restaurant patrons clapped as Rick spun Maggie around.

Later, Rick and Maggie walked hand in hand across the lakefront, looking at the stars’ reflection on the water. Maggie’s mouth was racing as she thought out loud.

“-and Bonnie, and her mom and dad, and her brother I guess, but I think he might be old enough to stay at home on his own. I can never remember. But, then, if we DON’T invite Aunt Mary Katherine, then we can’t invite Cousin Colleen and the twins, which would be a shame because they invited me to their wedding. I mean, they knew I couldn’t come, so I don’t think they’ll be offended, but it’s nice to ask, and if we can get a larger hall for the reception, I know everyone will fit in the Cathedral, so-“

“Sweetie, calm down for a minute.” Rick urged. “We’ve got plenty of time for all this. Just relax and let’s enjoy tonight.”

They stopped and looked at the rippling water. Maggie rested her head on Rick’s shoulder.

“If you hadn’t gotten that job today,” Maggie began. “Would you still have asked me tonight?”

“No.” Rick answered without a thought.

“When would you, do you think?” She asked.

“When I knew I could take care of you.” Rick replied. Maggie scoffed.

“I can take care of myself, Rick Toffen.” She chided, playfully.

“I know. I’m old-fashioned like that.” He paused. “I’ve had the ring for a while. Been carrying it around with me.”

“Waiting for just the right moment?” Maggie smiled. “That’s sweet.”

“I’m just glad nothing ruined it.” Rick began. “Not like last time…”

Maggie’s smile faded. “Last time?”

“The last time I asked someone to marry me.” Rick looked at her. “I told you about that.”

“You did not!” Maggie’s eyes flared. “You’ve been engaged before?”

“Years ago!” Rick protested. “I know I told you.”

“I would remember something like that!” Maggie pulled away from him and planted her feet on the pavement. “I am not moving from this spot until you tell me who she was!”

“Sweetheart, relax.” Rick soothed. “It was a woman I’d met flying a private passenger. She was his, I don’t know, guest on a weekend getaway and they had a falling out, so she came and talked to me in the pilot’s cabin. We hit it off and started dating.”

“She sounds like a high-society tramp.” Maggie spat. Rick thought it over.

“Yeah. Yeah, I suppose she was.” He grinned at her. “But, at the time, that’s what I was in the mood for.”

“And you would have married a woman like that?” Maggie asked, disbelieving.

“It was more her idea.” Rick admitted. “She wanted some stability.”

“From you?” Maggie laughed, and Rick joined her.

“She wasn’t so bright. And I learned that she was a little high-strung.” Rick leaned on a railing, facing Maggie. “See, on the night that I asked her to marry me – She knew it was coming, by the way. Picked the restaurant and everything – We were dining on the patio of this fancy Italian place downtown. Al fresco, you know?”

Maggie nodded.

“Well, she was cuddled up against me, admiring the ring on her finger, when all of a sudden a guy ran up the sidewalk and put two bullets into the man eating at the next table.”

Maggie’s face went white. “Oh, my God, Rick…”

Rick shrugged. “What could I do? I ran after him.”

Maggie’s eyes widened in shock. “You did what?”

“I jumped over the railing and ran after the gunman. No one else was doing anything.” Rick noticed Maggie’s expression of amazement. “I had to do something!”

“So you ran after a killer?”

“He ducked down an alleyway and I chased him. He got a few shots off, but he couldn’t really aim, so they went wild.” Rick tone was surprisingly nonchalant.

Maggie gasped. “He shot at you? And you kept chasing him?”

“We got to the other end of the alley and he jumped in a car that sped off. Must have been planned out.”

“It sounds like it!” Maggie exclaimed. “Ye Gods, Rick, it was probably a mob hit! And you RAN AFTER THE KILLER!”

“I got the car’s license plate then went back to the restaurant.” Rick breathed heavily. “Well, I can tell you that Roxanne – that was her name, Roxanne – She reacted about the same way that you did. Yelled at me until the cops showed up, then gave me back the ring and asked a policeman to drive her home. She barely even let me explain myself.”

“Explain yourself? What’s to explain? You could have been killed!” Maggie cried.

“I've almost been killed lots of times. She still over-reacted.” Rick went on. “Besides, I told her that after he shot at me, he ran out of bullets and threw his gun at me, so she shouldn’t have been so worried.”

“You told her that he threw his gun at you.” Maggie could scarcely believe it.

“Yeah, like in the movies.” Rick confessed.

“Did she believe you?” Maggie asked.

“I don’t think I ever got confirmation on that…” Rick looked sheepish.

Maggie walked over to her fiancee and wrapped her arms around him. She looked him in the eyes.

“Rick Toffen, you’re a brave, reckless idiot and I’m going to love you until day that I die, do you understand me?” She said. 

Rick smiled.

“And if we ever witness a murder, I’ll handle the CPR and triage if you promise NOT to let the bad guy get away again, get it?” Maggie’s eyes were misting over.

“But you have to promise me that you’ll never-“ Maggie took a deep breath, “NEVER lie to me about something as stupid as someone throwing their gun at you!”

Rick laughed and kissed her. She kissed back, harder than he was expecting. After a long embrace, they finally disengaged.

“Now, this woman you work with,” Maggie began, seemingly out of nowhere, “Why do they call her ‘Wingy’? Is it an airplane thing?”

END

What If... Emil Trueheart Had Not Died?

The recent "Midnite Mirror" storyline got me thinking about possible alternate timelines in the world of "Dick Tracy". So, in the same vein as Marvel's "What If..." and DC's "Elseworlds", I've composed this story of how things might have been...

If Emil Trueheart Had Not Died

1931

“Tess, I’m the happiest man in the world tonight.”

Dick Tracy put his arm around Tess Trueheart’s waist and ushered her into the next room. She had just agreed to marry him, and the young couple shared the happy news with her parents. Tracy’s own parents had died some years before. He had come to think of the Truehearts as his new family, and he was pleased to finally make it official.

Suddenly, the apartment door flew open and two masked gunmen burst in.

“Stick ‘em up! Alla y’u!” said one of the robbers. 

The two men demanded to know where Emil Trueheart had hidden his savings. Tracy stood there with his hands up, feeling helpless. I can’t just stand here and watch Pop Trueheart lose everything, he thought.  I’m a police officer, for pity’s sake. I have to do something.

Emil began to loudly defy the masked men.

“Who are you to take what I’ve slaved years to get?” He demanded.

Tracy saw his chance. He rushed one of the robbers and grabbed his gun arm, forcing it up. The robber fired and the bullet lodged in the ceiling. Tess screamed. 

The other robber turned and shot. Tracy twisted his body around and using the man he was grappling with as a shield. He forced the man backwards and into his co-hort, who fired again. 

By this time, Emil had grabbed a chair and smashed it over the head of the second gunman. Dazed, he dropped his gun and staggered out of the apartment. Emil prepared to run after him when Tess called out.

“Father, don’t leave!" Tess cried. “It’s mother! She’s hurt!”

The man in Tracy’s arms weakened and slumped. Tracy let the body drop to ground and finally took in the scene. He turned from the open door to the broken chair and finally to the Truehearts, where Tess and Emil were gathered around the fallen Mrs. Trueheart. Blood was spreading across the front of her blouse.

“I’ll get help!” Tracy said. He ran down the stairs to the street and found a police call box. He looked around distractedly for any sign of the other assailant, but there was none. He hoped that an ambulance would arrive in time.

Later

“You can’t work this case, Tracy. I’m sorry.”

Police Chief Brandon sat back in his chair as Tracy stood stiffly in front of his desk, wearing his patrolman’s uniform. Brandon’s face was sympathetic, but his words stung.

“I’m an eyewitness, Chief. I’m in the best possible position to identify the killer.” Tracy protested.

“I’m aware of that.” Brandon responded. “And when we do run him down, you’ll be called in for the line-up. But as it stands, you’re a liability.”

“I disagree, sir.”

Brandon sighed heavily. “Tracy, I’ve been watching you for a while. You’re good police officer, and I think you have the makings of a fine detective. But you’re too close to this case. I know you have a connection to the Trueheart family…”

“Tess and I are to be married, sir.” Tracy interjected.

“That’s my point. You’re liable to go off on some half-cocked crusade to find the gunman and make of mess things in the process. Maybe get yourself killed even.”

“I’m not afraid of that.” Tracy said.

“Then you’re a fool.” Brandon leaned forward. “That man who was killed during the robbery was a known member of the Big Boy’s outfit. The other one almost certainly was as well. You can be sure that Big Boy will have him squirreled away somewhere with a dozen armed men between you and him.”

“So, we do nothing, sir? We just let him get away?” Tracy tried to keep any trace of insubordination out of his voice, but it was difficult.

“We’ll do it quietly. We’ve got your description of the man, and a police sketch and an APB out for him. And I’ve assigned a plainclothes detective to the case. Patton.” Brandon said.

“Patton?” Tracy raised an eyebrow. “He’s got a… reputation in the department, sir.”

“He’s a fine detective.” Brandon paused. Tracy remained quiet. “He’s perfectly competent. And I promise that if there’s anything more that can be done, we will.”

“Is that all, sir?” Tracy asked.

Brandon stood. He walked across his desk and looked Tracy in the eye.

“This is a bad piece of luck you’ve had, Tracy. I don’t know what I’d do in your place. But we have to handle this carefully. You keep your head down, keep walking your beat, keep doing your job as well as you have been, and you’ll be a detective soon enough. Then you can really make a difference.”

“I understand, Chief.” Tracy said, dispassionately.

“Good.” Brandon forced a smile. “Now, back to your duties.”

Tracy nodded a left, his jaw clenched.

***

“Father, you have to eat.”

Tess Trueheart pushed the bowl of soup closer to her father as she stood at his side. He leaned away.

“I’m not hungry.” He protested, weakly.

“You’ve barely touched any food since-“ Tess stopped abruptly. The atmosphere in her home had been strained since the robbery. When the doctor had told her and her father that her mother had not survived, the light went out of Emil’s eyes. Tess had been forced to handle the burden of making the funeral arrangements as well as managing the family business. 

After a few days, Emil had finally started responding to her, interacting more, and even spending a few hours in the deli, accepting condolences from their regular customers. Then he had started to make plans…

There was a knock at the door. Tess went from the kitchen to the front room and answered. Tracy stood there, holding flowers.

“Dick!” Tess cried. She threw her arms around him and pressed her face to his chest.

“Hey there, old girl.” Tracy said awkwardly. “I know I’ve been out of the picture for while…”

“Dick, it’s been so difficult. I’m at my wit’s end.” Tess nearly sobbed the words.

“I know, dear, but we’ll make it work. You and your father can come live with me. We’ll start over, and I’ll make detective soon, so-”

“You!” Tracy looked up at the sound from the kitchen. Emil stood in the doorway. Tracy noticed the black band on his arm.

“This is all your fault!” Emil spat. He walked unsteadily toward the couple, quaking with rage.

“Dick, he’s been impossible-“ Tess murmured.

“You and your damned heroics!” Emil cried. “If you hadn’t gotten involved, they would have just taken the money and left! And Mama would still be here!”

“Mr. Trueheart, I swear, I-” Dick started.

“Mr. Big Shot Policeman!” Emil yelled. “Can’t even keep a sweet little old lady safe in her own home! Well, I’ve had enough of you, and this city and the crime and hoodlums and all of it!”

“Father, you’re raving! Stop it!” Tess insisted.  

“I’m taking what’s mine and I’m going!” Emil declared. “And I won’t miss a single bit of it! Now get out of my home, you! Out!”

Emil stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists. Tracy looked him over, then backed out the door. Tess joined him in the hallway.

“He’ll get over it.” Dick said.

“He won’t, Dick.” Tess looked down. “He’s… he’s made some arrangements.”

“What do you mean?” Tracy asked.

“He’s sold the deli.” Tess answered. “A nice Dutch immigrant gave him a fair price. With that, plus his savings, he’s moving to Kansas.”

“Kansas?” Tracy asked.

“He wants somewhere quiet. Peaceful.” Tess looked up with tears in her eyes. “And I’m going with him.”

Tracy put his hands on her shoulders. “What? You can’t!” He objected. “Tess, I need you here. With me. I love you.”

“I know you do, Dick, but he’s my father. He’s suffered so much, and he needs me more than you do.” Tess looked away again. “I’m sorry things have to be this way. Maybe in time, he’ll change his mind and we can come back, and-”

“Save it.” Tracy said brusquely. “I see how important I am to you.”

Tracy stepped back from her. “If there’s any news on the killer, I’ll get word to you.” He said. Then he wheeled on her and left. 

Tess sobbed as he went, and Tracy pretended that he didn’t hear.  

1932

“Hey! Stop that kid! He stole my watch!” 

Tracy’s head turned at the cry. He had just rounded the corner of a city block when the young street urchin barreled past him. Taking in the situation, Tracy turned and gave chase, the coat of his patrolman’s uniform flapping in the wind.

The boy was fast, and he knew the city well. He darted down alleys and across streets at a reckless pace. Tracy nearly lost track of him a few times, but the sharp-eyed police officer eventually caught up to the child as he approached a railyard.

“Come back here, kid!” Tracy yelled. “You’re gonna get hurt!”

The boy ran along a train that was pulling out of the railyard, building up speed. Finally, the boy ran in front of the train in a desperate attempt to get away. Tracy mustered his strength and put on a final burst of speed, rounding in front of the train with inches to spare. He stopped briefly to catch his breath and saw the boy watching him from a few feet away, mouth open in surprise.

“You’re crazy!” The kid exclaimed.  

In a sudden rush, Tracy lunged and grabbed the kid, holding him tight by the arm.

“Lemme go!” The kid demanded. “Yer breakin’ my arm!”

“If I want your arm broken, you’ll know it.” Tracy said between puffs of air. 

By this time, the train had passed and Tracy pulled the struggling child along back toward the city proper.

“Where’re you takin’ me?” The kid asked.

“First, we’re going to find that guy and give him his watch back.” Tracy explained. “Then I’m taking you down to the station, and we’re going to call your folks. If they have any sense, they’ll whip some discipline into you.”

“I don’t got no folks!” The kid insisted.

“Then you’ll go to the orphanage.” Tracy said.

The boy began struggling hard, trying to wriggle out of Tracy’s grasp.

“I ain’t goin’ to no orphanage!” he protested.

Tracy stopped, grabbed the front of the kid’s shirt and got down on one knee so he could look the boy in the eye.

“All right, tough guy.” Tracy snarled, shaking the boy with every other word to make his point. “If you don’t like the orphanage, then break out. I don’t care if you do or don’t. Just stay off my beat, got it?”

Tracy’s voice dripped with menace. The boy’s eyes went wide as the fight left his young body. Tracy led him back the way they had come without further resistance.

  

1933

 

Tracy walked into Chief Brandon’s office with his patrolman’s hat under his arm. His uniform was pressed and his badge and buttons gleamed. The Chief smiled as Tracy entered.

“Tracy. Good to see you.” Chief Brandon said. Tracy nodded in acknowledgement. “Do you know why I called you here today?”

“No, sir.” Tracy responded.

“But you suspect, don’t you?” Brandon prompted. 

“I avoid speculating, sir.” Tracy remained stoic. 

Brandon sighed. “Well, it’s good news and bad news. You seem like the kind of man who prefers the bad news first, so I’ll just come out with it. I’m being forced to resign.”

Tracy’s eyed widened. “Sir?”

“It’s the new Mayor. Herrod.” Brandon practically spat the name. “He’s as corrupt as the day is long, and there’s no room for me in his city. He’s made it clear to me that I can either resign, or my life can become very, very difficult.”

“That’s a rotten deal, sir.” Tracy said.

“Don’t I know it. But, before I’m forced out, I plan to give the city a going-away present.” Brandon pointed at Tracy. “You.”

“Sir?” Tracy asked.

“I’m promoting you to detective. Effective immediately.” Brandon showed Tracy the paperwork on his desk. “Tomorrow morning you’ll go to work in the plainclothes division.”

“I’m honored sir.” Tracy replied.

“You’ll need to be careful, son.” Brandon said. “You don’t have a family, so they can’t get to you through that. I know you’re not corruptible, and they’ll figure that out soon enough. So, you’ll have to watch your back. All the time. But if any man can break the hold that organized crime has on this city, I’m sure it’s you.”

“I’ll do right by you, Chief.” Tracy said. 

“Good man. Dismissed.” 

Tracy turned to go, then turned back.

“Sir? Who’s going to be the new Chief?” Tracy asked.

“Pat Patton.” Brandon replied. Tracy’s jaw tightened.

“Patton? He’s a bumbler, sir.” Tracy said matter-of-factly.

“That’s why Herrod likes him.” Brandon observed. “He’s good-natured enough. And he’s diplomatic. That’s something you’ll have to learn.”

“I understand.” Tracy said. “I’ll make the best of it, sir.”

“I know you will, Tracy.” Brandon said. “I’m counting on it.”   

1935 

Dear Mayor Wright,

I am writing in response to your letter of the 12th. 

I am flattered by your invitation to become Temporary Police Chief of the town of Homeville. I know how frustrating it must be to deal with corruption in one’s police department.

However, I must respectfully decline.

Presumably, your invitation was prompted by the reports of my capturing the notorious criminal Boris Arson. You may also be familiar with my work in dismantling organized crime here in the big city. With that in mind, I could not in good conscience leave my home in the hands of the criminal element in order to help your small town.

If you find that you are unable to battle corruption, graft, nepotism, and fraud in your city government, perhaps you might find it wise to resign and make way for someone more suited to the task of leading your community.

As for me, I have important work to do.

Regards,

Dick Tracy 

1936 

Tracy strode into Chief Patton’s office. Patton was standing at the window, apparently watching some pigeons.

“You summoned me, sir?” Tracy said.

“’Summoned’? Come on, Tracy, you know I don’t like to be that formal.” Patton smiled warmly. “Have a seat?”

“I prefer to stand.” Tracy said bluntly.

“I see. Well, anyway, I suppose you’ve heard about what happened in the jail last night?” Patton asked.

“No, sir.”

“Your suspect. Manlis. ‘Lips’, I think he’s called.” Patton explained.

“What about him, sir?” Tracy asked.

“He’s dead.” Patton answered. Tracy’s face showed no emotion. 

“Sir?” Tracy asked.

“The custodian found him this morning. Poison, looks to be.” Patton explained. “You were the last person to interrogate him last night, weren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. About the Gothorn murder in the hotel.” Tracy said.

“Pretty sure that Manlis was our man, were you?” Patton asked.

“Very sure.” Tracy replied. “He’s killed before, even if it couldn’t be proved. I was this close to getting a confession from him.”

“Well, it seems like you got it.” Patton indicated a piece of paper on his desk. “They found that in his cell.”

Tracy picked up the paper and read it. In block letters it said “I KILLED GOTHORN, BUT YOU’LL NEVER FRY ME FOR IT. I’LL SEE HIM IN HELL.”

“That would seem to close the books on the case. Sir.” Tracy said.

Patton rubbed his chin. “Yes, I suppose so. Damnedest thing, though. I can’t for the life of me figure out where he got the poison from.”

“He probably had it concealed on his person.” Tracy offered. “A lot of these toughs do that when they know we’re closing in on them. Don’t want to give us the satisfaction of sending them to the chair.”

“That makes sense.” Patton agreed. He settled down into his chair. “Still, how do you suppose he wrote this note? There was no pen or paper in the cell with him…”

Tracy’s eyes narrowed. “Must have had it on him, too.” He said. Patton mulled the idea over for a moment, then nodded.

“Well, anyway, that closes the book on Manlis and the Gothorn murder. Good work, Tracy.” Patton smiled at the detective.

“Thank you, sir.” Tracy said, coolly. “Will that be all?”

“No, no, I don’t think so.” Patton said. “I want you to know something, Tracy. I think you’re a good detective. A credit to the force, in fact. But I often get the feeling that you don’t much care for me.”

“I didn’t mean to give that impression, sir.” 

“Good, good.” Patton smiled again. “I probably just imagined it. Glad to know there’s no bad blood here. That’ll be all.”

“Yes, sir.” Tracy didn’t move. “Before I go, sir, have there been any new developments on the Trueheart murder?”

“Trueheart?” Patton looked confused.

“Yes, sir. An older women. Shot and killed during a B&E.” An edge crept into Tracy’s voice. “About five years ago. You were the lead detective on the case.”

Recognition came over Patton’s face. “Oh! Oh, yes, Trueheart. Now, that is a name out of the past, isn’t it? I’m afraid I haven’t thought about that case in ages.”

“So, there are no new developments to report, then.” Tracy stated.

“No. No new developments, Tracy. I can’t imagine there will be.” Patton looked confused.

“I thought as much. Thank you, sir.” Tracy left Pat Patton’s office briskly.

1940

Tracy climbed the steps to his apartment slowly. He had noticed himself slowing down in the past year or two, and it galled him. The cramp in his shooting hand also bothered him. It had never fully recovered from the injury he suffered from Jerome Trohs, and he had taken great pains to develop his aim with his other hand. Trohs had learned about that personally, as had many of the members of his gang.

Tracy reached the landing in front of his apartment and stopped short he gasped in surprise.

“Tess!” he said.

“Hello, Dick.”

Tess looked nearly the same as the last time he had seen her. If anything, she was a bit more plump, but it suited her. Her skin was smooth and creamy, and her hair shone even in the dim light. She smiled broadly and came in to hug him. He put his hands on her shoulders, holding her at a distance.

“What are you doing here?” Tracy asked.

“I just got into the city on a train, and I wanted to see you.” She explained. “I wasn’t sure if you’d even be living in the same place, but I thought I’d take a chance. If I didn’t find you here I was going to check into a hotel and then call at the police station in the morning.” 

“Is your father with you?” Tracy asked.

“No, he’s- No.” Tess said. “Can we go inside? I don’t want to stand out here in the hall all evening.”

Tracy bustled past her and opened the door. She followed him into his apartment and looked around. The room was sparse, with plain grey walls. A desk with a telephone on it sat against the wall. Tess was flattered to see that her photograph was the only decoration.

“Do you want something to eat?” Tracy offered. “I don’t have much, but I could make some sandwiches.”

“No, that’s all right, thank you.” Tess said. “I have a dinner reservation at Club Rhumba later tonight. The food is supposed to be excellent and the entertainment is the Rudy Seton Orchestra. Do you know it?”

“Seton? Yeah, I know him.” Tracy said. “He’s a scoundrel. I wouldn’t be caught dead in his place.”

Tess’ face fell. “Oh. So, you wouldn’t be interested in joining me? I made the reservation for two, just on the off-chance…”

“Hmm…” Tracy thought it over. “Might be fun to go and put a scare into him. I’m sure he’s up to something at that club. Those jazz types always are.”

“Oh. Well, maybe you can put off a confrontation until after we eat?” She smiled, weakly. 

“Maybe. Sit down, for goodness sake. You must be exhausted.” Tracy gestured at the one chair in the room., then went into the kitchen. “Do you want a glass of water or anything?”

“Yes, all right.” Tess said.

“So, is your father back in Kansas, or is he staying somewhere here in the city?” Tracy asked from the other room.

“No, Dick…” Tess sat down heavily. “He’s dead.”

Tracy entered the doorway and looked at her. “Dead? Was he sick?”

“No. It… It was a robbery.” Tess drew a handkerchief from her handbag and covered her nose and mouth. 

Tracy hurried over with water. “No, I’m fine, really. I’ve cried enough in the month since it happened.”

“A month?” Tracy asked. “And this is the first I’m hearing about it?”

“What could you have done, Dick?” Tess looked up at him. “The local police caught the men that did it. They were a pair of bank robbers. The Jones brothers. Apparently, they came into the lunch counter that father had opened and order a couple of sandwiches, then demanded everything in the till. Father gave them the money, but they shot him anyway.”

Tracy’s jaw tightened and his cheeks turned red.

“There was plenty of evidence when they got caught. They shot at the police and were taken into custody.” Tess explained. “They were wanted in couple of states, so they’ll face federal charges. It’s all very straightforward, apparently.”

“’Charges’.” Tracy harrumphed. “They should just take them out back of the courthouse and shoot them.”

“Don’t talk like that, Dick.” Tess said.

“It burns me up to think of it, is all…” Tracy fumed.

“I know, I know.” Tess agreed. 

A moment passed.

“You stopped writing to me a while back.” Tracy began.

“You never responded.” Tess objected.

“I told you I’d let you know when there was anything to report about your mother’s case.” Tracy said. “There wasn’t.”

“Still, Dick, I worried about you.”

“Worried?” Tracy asked.

“Well, wondered, I suppose.” Tess said. “Have you made detective?”

“Sure. Years ago.” Tracy answered.

“Good. I’m glad. I’m sure that made you happy.” Tess forced a smile.

“Happy? No, not necessarily.” Tracy said, coldly. “I like the work, if that’s what you mean.”

“Hmm.” Tess paused again. “You know, Dick, I… I never had any boyfriends in Kansas.”

Tracy raised an eyebrow.

“Not one. Not in eight and a half years.” Tess explained.

“That’s hard to believe.” Tracy said.

“It’s true!” Tess took a sip of water. “There were men who were interested, of course.”

“Of course.” Tracy was rueful.

“Men would ask me for a date, and I’d make some excuse about having to take care of father. Or I’d just say no without a reason.” Tess looked at him. “Many of them were very nice.”

“Get a lot of smooth talkers in Kansas, do you?” Tracy scoffed.

“Nice men, Dick!” Tess burst. “I turned down NICE MEN. Even the local County Sheriff. He was a sweet, handsome man and he would have done anything for me but I broke his heart again and again because I thought someday I might be back here with you.”

The words poured out of Tess so quickly that it surprised her. She went on. 

“And now here I am, and all you can do is offer me a sandwich and glass of water and mock all of the suffering I’ve been through…”

Tracy breathed in heavily. 

“Look, old scout, I don’t know what you were expecting.” He said. “But I can tell you that your timing’s rotten. I gave my notice at the department last week. I’m going into the Navy.”

“The Navy?” Tess asked. “Will you be stationed nearby?”

“That’s not up to me.”

“What will you do? Mop decks? Cook? Man guns, or RADAR, or-”

“I don’t know, Tess!” Tracy interrupted. “I’ll probably be some kind of Military Police. Maybe I’ll be a dog handler. I always like dogs…”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Finally, Tess stood.

“Well, I hope you’ll be safe, at least.” She said.

“A man doesn’t join the Navy to be safe.” Tracy replied, bluntly.

“Then at least do some good.” Tess said with frustration. “I know that’s the only way you’ll be happy.”

“I don’t think you have any idea what will make me happy.” Tracy said.

Tess was struck. She let the words sink in for a moment, then composed a response.

“I think you’re right. In fact, I don’t think I know you at all, Dick Tracy.” 

She walked out without looking back.

END