Scott Tracy: The False Fazbucks

  As a man and a woman left a nightclub, they were suddenly confronted by a man in a trenchcoat. He accosted the pair and spoke in a gruff tone, directed at the man.

"You and your boys are through in this town, Big Bear. I'm shutting you down."
"You got nothing on me Tracy, and you know it!" the man with the woman spoke, grinning a knowing grin.
"Yeah, Tracy, so why not get nothing on me?" the women jibed, a sultry smile on her face.

  The man let them go, cursing under his breath. That man was me. And I would not allow that man to get away with this, especially with his bird hooked around his arm and on display like that. As though to rub in the fact that I had nothing on him.

-----

Special Bulletin: The False Fazbucks! Fake 20-F Ticket used near Fritz the Tramp's Flophouse.
The current leads based on the initial investigation are:
"The Mangle". A weasly henchwoman, she's very good at getting in and out of binds. She was last seen at a poker game down in the basement of some dingy place over on 1st & D.
"Carrottop". A Contract-Killer who deceives targets with their looks. Last seen at the 5th & G library.
Fritz the Tramp. A brawling bum, he works wherever he can, but is usually fired after only one day. Last seen at his flophouse by 5th & B.
"Breathless" Chicaney. A capricious partygoer, she also sings at various clubs. Last seen performing at the 5th & J Nightclub.
"Hooks". A lefthanded goon, due to his other hand being a hook. Last seen at the 2nd & C Autoshop.
"Buttons" Burtoy. A calculating bookie, suspected in multiple cases involving ticket laundering and counterfeit. Last seen at the hotel on the corner of 8th & J.

"Alright Tracy, you're taking this assignment. Now hit the streets!" the chief said, as he gave me the job.

  I'll back up a little. My name is Scott Tracy, though some of my colleagues call me Plainclothes on account of how I dress. Double breasted suit and tie, dress pants, yellow trenchcoat, and a yellow fedora with the words "DETECT IT" across the band.
I'm a detective down at the local precinct. I've been trying to bring Freddy "Big Bear" Fazprice (the man I accosted last week), a bigtown mob boss, to justice. It's been difficult, as he's eluded me for awhile, so I'll try a different tack. This time I'm gonna start from the bottom. I'll take his gang down, one henchman at a time. But first things first, since the ticket was found near the flophouse, I'll pay Fritz a visit!

-----

  At the flophouse, I met with Fritz the Tramp. Fritz was an odd sort, never able to hold a job down for longer than a day, yet was very competent at whatever he was employed for. His main issue stemmed from always trying to do something offbooks. I remember once hearing about a job he was fired from for tampering with the merchandise, though in his words he was trying to "Improve" things. Despite his troubles he at least seemed always able to maintain his flophouse, for others like him. Clearly he was more intelligent than he lets on but that's not what was really striking. It was more his build. He was a large imposing man, but a bit ill-tempered though. Prone to get into brawls. I'd have to watch what I'd say, if I didn't want to eat a knuckle sandwich.

"Alright Fritz, we know the ticket was used around here. What do you know?" I started easy, nothing too accusatory yet.
"What do ya mean, flatfoot? This place isn't exactly made a money y'know, hell, I only used my last 20 myself yesterday." he said. That places him as a possible source for the fake tickets if the one he used was such.
"Interesting. I didn't know you were in the counterfeit fazbucks game, Fritz." A quick accusatory jab. He'll get defensive and possibly let something slip.
"Fake tickets? Listen pal, I earned dat 20-F unloadin' crates down the pier near 9th & F. I don't know anything about no fake tickets. I ain't no fake, I'm the real deal, and I won't be taking no insults from the fuzz like dat." and just like that, I had my next destination planned. His pride was always an easy target.
"Right. Well stay out of trouble, and there won't be anymore insults. We'll keep in touch."

-----

  So I headed down to the pier to investigate. The place was mostly empty, which was strange, as according to Fritz, he had unloaded a bunch of crates here. I wasn't going to be deterred though, and before long I came across some footprints found in a puddle of spilled green ink. Calling in forensics, I soon learned that the prints had been left sometime yesterday, and that the ink seemed uniquely similar to the ink used in ticketmaking. It was definitely a lead. I was about to head back to the flophouse when I spotted Hooks, one of Big Bear's guys, skulking about. He sort of stood out, on account of the hook. Anyways, he soon noticed me making a beeline for him and skedaddled out of there. So of course, I chased him. He was damned fast, but I could tell he was only a sprinter and couldn't keep it up. It wasn't long before I caught up and tackled him to the ground.

"Okay Hooks, tell me what you know." I held him down, but was weary of the hook.
"Hey hey hey, easy flatfoot! Can't a guy exercise where he can enjoy the smell of the sea? I was just getting a good run in is all." he was tight-lipped, but I wasn't having any of that. I lifted him to his feet and held him by the scruff of his collar. By now a couple of my colleagues had caught up to us and were keeping an eye on him.
"Save it Hooks. Where are the crates? I know a bunch were unloaded here just last night."
"Take it easy guy, I'll talk. The crates were taken to the warehouse over at 4th & D. It's just routine shipping." he gave that up pretty quick. I should've pressed him about the fake ticket, but he refused to say anymore.
"If you want me to keep gabbing, then bring me in." he said smugly. Deciding I had enough info for now, I let him go. I would have to continue the investigation at the warehouse.

-----

  Arriving at the warehouse I had my colleagues fan out to look for clues. The crates themselves were full of ordinary looking paper. I was hoping there would instead be something here that would blow this case wide open. Fake tickets... there had been a pretty big racket in counterfeiting lately. In many of the cases, the top suspect was Buttons, Big Bear's favourite bookie. But every time, we couldn't find any decisive evidence. Buttons was calculating, and efficient. He covered his tracks well. But I have a feeling this case will lead me straight to him.

  A couple of hours had gone by in the search before something turned up: A blank looking sheet of paper, with an invoice of sorts stuck to it. Both with a green inked footprint on them. The ink seems to be what stuck the two together. They were found caught in the hinge of one of the crates, as though they'd been picked up by the wind. I took the paper to forensics and then pored over the invoice while they analyzed the former. The invoice was for several sets of papers to be made from the printing press at the print shop on 1st & H, some blocks down from the police station. The rest of the information on the invoice was muddied up by the ink so I couldn't make it out. Still, it was interesting. Telling forensics to call me on my 2-Way Wrist Radio when they had something, I got in the squad car and headed off to the print shop.

-----

  The print shop was closed when I got there, or more accurately, was closing. I got there as the manager was leaving. Quickly addressing the man and flashing him my badge, I asked him about the order on the invoice. He told me that it was an order from several weeks ago, but he was waiting on paper to use that his client had apparently specially ordered for this job that was supposed to arrive by boat yesterday. I asked him if he remembered who placed the order, but he could not. Then he gave me a claim ticket and told me the man who placed the order had dropped it and asked me to return it to him if I find him. He then said this would work better than him doing it, as he'd probably forget, since he already forgot who the man was in the first place. I thanked him for his time and went back to the squad car.

Once in the car, I looked over at the claim ticket.
"Claim No. 19-1-22-5-20-8-5-13. Dated for yesterday. 4th & B Shoe Repair." I mused out loud as I read.
Let's see if the shoe fits. It was off to the shoe repair place.

-----

  Soon after parking the car, I got a call on my wrist radio.
"Detective Tracy. Go ahead." I stated routinely. Then I waited.
"Hey Plainclothes, it's the boys down at forensics. We've got new info for you."
"What have you got for me?" I said with interest. Any new info was good info after all.
"The footprint on that sheet of paper from earlier matches the ones found in that ink puddle on the pier." the officer stated. So the same guy who stepped on the former would have had to have stepped in the latter first. That places the same guy at the pier and the warehouse. And if the hunch that's now forming about that claim ticket rings true, that same guy will have also been the guy who placed the order.
"That's good, anything else?"
"Yeah, the paper was specially treated, to work with the ink in making Fazbucks." he said. Oh boy. I think I see where this is going.
"What about the paper in those crates? Is it-"
"Yeah. It's the same kind of paper."
Bingo.
"Alright hang tight. I've got to check something out, but if I'm right, we'll have cracked this case. Tracy out."

  I was getting a little ahead of myself sure, but I was pretty excited. I had two of the three required pieces one needs when it comes to ticketmaking. And I'm fairly certain I can tie them to the same guy. All that would leave is the plates the printing press would need. If I could find the plates, and if they were also tied to the same guy, I'd have my counterfeiter.

-----

  Entering the shoe repair store, I wasted no time in turning in the claim ticket, asking about the job it entailed. I was told it was a simple sole replacement job, so it was on the backlog so more important jobs could be attended to first. After flashing my badge, I asked if I could see the shoes in question. Being handed the shoes, I turned them over to look at their soles and sure enough, there were green ink stains on them. Whoever owned these shoes was the culprit. I immediately asked who the shoes belonged to.

They belonged to Buttons.

  I hightailed it back to the squad car and then took off. Getting on the horn with the station, I asked for the last known whereabouts of Buttons. Shortly thereafter, I was headed to the hotel. On my way there, I called up the investigation at the warehouse and asked them to send some men to meet me at the hotel and wait in the lobby. I soon arrived at the hotel myself. After a quick word with the front desk, I soon found myself at the door to Buttons' room. I took a moment to calm my nerves and then banged on the door.

"Open up, this is the police."

-----

  This was it. The deciding moments were happening now. I was now in what may be a den of counterfeiting. Buttons' room.
"So, detective. What's this all about? I was planning to go see a show tonight." he said as he politely tipped his top hat, no trace of fear in his voice. Buttons seemed confident in his machinations as he sat in his chair, idly twisting one of the over-sized buttons on his pinstripe suit. Buttons was a bear of a man, but his demeanor was always soft spoken and innocent. Maybe it was just the novelty buttons he liked so much, but it sometimes gave him an almost toy-like air. Either way, I knew better.

"Oh this shouldn't take too long I imagine. Just following up on the initial investigation into that phony 20-F ticket from the other day." I said offhandedly, as I cast a gaze around the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, the room was pretty clean and neatly arranged. The only thing of note really was a room safe. Even from here I could see it was one of those new electronic ones with a programmable lock. If I were a gambling man, I'd wager that the last piece of the puzzle, the plates, would be in that safe. It's just a matter of getting in there.

"I see. I take it you've a need to question me, or you wouldn't be here."
"Sharp as always, Buttons. Yes. I want you to tell me where yo-" I began, but he held up his hand and cut me off.
"Let me stop you there, detective. I've been here all week crunching numbers for my clients."
"Is there someone who can corroborate this?"
"Just check the hotel logs. You'll note I've been checked in this whole time, with no outings."
"I'll be sure to check them then."
He smiled and relaxed in his chair. I'll have to try another angle. So I glanced down at his feet.

"By the way, nice shoes."
"You've a good eye and good taste, detective."
"Thanks. Now then, could you stand up for me please?" at this, his eyes narrowed. I kept my face blank.
"What a curious request."
"Don't worry. I'm just going to give you a pat down is all. I still plan to bring you in for further questioning you see."
"You're wasting your time." he said as he stood up. I started the pat down, and went about it quite slowly.
"Could you hurry along?" his voice was slightly strained. I didn't look up, instead just continuing the procedure.
"What's the issue? I figured with such comfortable footwear, you wouldn't mind standing for a bit." he went quiet, and I stood up finished. Looking at him now I could see he was definitely wincing, if only slightly.
"How about that. If I didn't know any better, I'd say your shoes are still being broken in. They do look awfully new."
"So what if they are? New shoes aren't a crime."
"New shoes. And here I thought you said you'd been here all week. But then, I knew you were lying." he went quiet as I produced the claim check.
"This little ditty establishes that you weren't here yesterday. So why the dishonesty, Buttons?" I grinned as he got a little red in the face. He was getting angry now.
"It's embarrassing that's why! I don't want people to know I need specialty shoes! It's bad for business!" I was taken aback at that. I didn't know the shoes themselves were special. They looked ordinary to me. At the same time, this was a likely story, just to throw off the line of questioning. I'd let it drop for now, so I shrugged.

"Okay okay, I'll let it go. I just have one more question here before we go." I walked over to the side of the room the safe was on. Buttons watched me apprehensively, but said nothing. So I continued.
"I've looked around and I'm noticing that I don't see any paperwork anywhere. I don't even see a briefcase. If you really have been doing account work for your client, there'd be some record of that. So where's your work?" he said nothing as I walked over to the safe, and then pointed at it.
"I'm guessing its here in the safe. So I'm going to need yo-" he quickly spoke up, again cutting me off.
"I can't! I... I don't remember the combination." he was sweating now. I shrugged again and smiled.
"That's alright, I'm sure the front desk can-" he suddenly grinned and cut me off. Again.
"They can't help you. They lost the safe records, and a locksmith won't be by for another week." at that I blanched. I wouldn't be able to hold him for a week. He'd surely be able to remove the contents of the safe before then if I let him go. He smiled and gestured towards the door.
"If that's all detective, I'll gladly go with you for more questioning. Shall we?" Damn. He'd made a complete recovery. I needed more information. I looked at the claim ticket I held in my hand still. Suddenly I had a wild idea.
"Hold on. Suppose you're working with numbers all day. Suppose you needed a string of numbers apart from all of them. You'd need it written down somewhere. Somewhere important. Maybe on something only you would see the importance of." I brandished the claim.
"Like a claim ticket for specialty shoes perhaps?" this time it was his turn to have the colour drain from his face. This was it.

  I punched in the serial number on the ticket. There was a second or two as the safe verified the code. Then, with a ding, the door popped open. And of course, sitting on a stack of paperwork, were the plates.
"Fred "Buttons" Burtoy, you're under arrest."