#sorry for length...

Chapter  3

  Dick Tracy’s Studebaker Champion slowed to a stop outside the train yard. Tracy radioed Pat and told him he arrived to investigate further. He removed the Colt .45 from his holster under his coat and checked the magazine. After confirming his clip was full, Tracy tucked the pistol away. He stepped from his car and was met with a chilled breeze. The trainyard had an eerie aura around it. Dim silhouettes of the trains lit under a pale moon light. A few yard hands were mulling about their business as they unloaded and loaded trains ready to be shipped back out. They were mostly older men, worn and dirty from the grueling labor. Tracy approached some in hopes they knew or saw anything suspicious in the last few hours. Most shook their heads, grunted in a no or merely ignored him entirely.

  Tracy continued to investigate while trying to avoid giant mounds of mud and uneven gravel. His shoes were already caked with the brown muck. Tracy noticed quick movements along the fenceline separating the trainyard and some desolate Hoovervilles.He removed a flashlight from his pocket and headed towards the fence. There were several missing boards from the worn post.

Tracy shined his light through the gap and saw two young boys darting from his beam. The detective happened to notice each boy held a purse in his possession. Could they be the ones pick pocketing? he thought. The possibility he hit a lead on a case while investigating another was rare, but he decided to follow up anyway. He tucked his yellow trenchcoat close to his body as he squeezed through the gap. His legs picked up speed and gave chase to the boys. “Freeze!” he ordered. “Police!”

One boy, who might have been older given his height, paused to look behind him. He noticed the flatfoot giving chase! “Scatter!” he cried as both boys split up. The taller boy made a beeline for the shacks while the shorter one ducked back through the fence. Tracy decided to follow the taller one. The boy darted between buildings, around late night wanderers, and knocked over trash cans. Tracy was quick to maneuver around the dilapidated buildings and across the muddy terrain. Vegabonds and homeless tried to slow Tracy down in a move to protect their own, but Tracy dodged around them.   The kid was fast, but Tracy was well fit to keep up and close in on him. He spotted the kid jump into a shack, probably thinking he was clear. Tracy slowed down and carefully stepped closer to the shack. He pressed close to the exterior wall which was nothing more than thin and rusted metal. He heard the kid talk to another person inside.

 “I was followed by some copper I think, Steve!” said the kid between gasping breaths.

“You dumb chump!” responded the other voice. “I see you still held on to the loot.”

“I didn’t want to show up empty handed.”  Tracy peered through the opening to see the boy hand over the purse. The man, who Tracy was familiar with as Steve the Tramp, pawed through the purse and its contents. Steve laid on the floor in a makeshift bed. His leg was tied up and bandaged in a sheet as if a tourniquet.

“Not bad, Billy. Not bad,” said Steve as he removed a coin purse and some jewels from inside the bag. “I know just where I can use this stuff.”

That’s when Tracy stepped in and covered the doorway. “Me too, Steve. Back to its rightful owner!”

Steve was caught off guard by the sudden intruder, but he wouldn’t be ambushed again. He hopped up quickly on his good leg and reached for the two by four that sat beside him. He took a swing at Tracy, but the detective was too quick and dodged the blow. When he recoiled upwards, Tracy delivered a fierce shoulder upon Steve’s stomach that sent him onto his thin mattress. He collared the kid and tossed him onto Steve’s lap. “Let’s have a chat, shall we?”

That was when the other boy stepped inside, unaware of the events happening.  When he saw the cop in the yellow fedora and coat, his eyes turned big and tried to turn around to run. Tracy grabbed the young boy on his jacket lapel and spun him into the others. “Going somewhere, son?” Tracy stepped close to the delinquents and peered intensly at Steve. “Now that we’re all comfy. Mind telling me what’s going on here? I’m going to bet these kids work for you and are responsible for those purse snatchings around town.”

Both kids looked intently on the ground with a guilty conscious. Steve merely glared back at Tracy. “But I’m willing to cut you some slack if you explain that wound you got there, Brogan.”

Tracy grew up watching Steve Brogan giving his all in the squared circle back in the day. He would box and beat the best of them. It was sad to see a hero of Tracy’s now sitting in filth and resorting to crime.

“That sure looks like a bullet wound. Know anything about any shipment coming in that belongs to Al Caprice?”

Steve shifted uncomfortably in the worn and holey green jacket. “Maybe. Maybe it was me who told somebody about it.”

Tracy stepped closer. “Was that you who called it in? The anonymous tip?”

“Those bastards shot me!” shouted Steve. He grimaced from the pain affecting his leg. “And the fact they didn’t cut me in into what’s going on. This yard is MY yard, dammit! No one comes into my home and puts a slug into me without paying for it. No matter who they work for!”  

“What’s coming in, Steve? Where is it?” asked Tracy.

Brogan remained tight lipped. Tracy kicked Steve’s injured leg. The former champ screamed in agony.  “I’m pretty sure this leg is infected, Brogan. You don’t tell me what I need to know, I won’t send you to a hospital and you can just saw it off!”

Steve bit his lip to push away the pain. “I don’t know wha’ts on that train. All I know it’s Number 86 from Chicago. It’s the only solo freight train on the other end of the yard. Everyone’s been told to let it be. That’s all I freakin’ know!”

“Alright,” said Tracy. “Then what about these lads? They belong to anybody?”

Both boys shook their heads. “No sir,” said the one named Billy. “Mr. Steve was the one who told us where to go and what to do. He let us stay here and eat the food we steal. We was just so hungry and cold.”

“There are orphanages that have those things. With other kids your age. We’re taking you there tonight. But not you, Steve. You’re getting a warm home behind bars.” Tracy activated his wrist radio. “Tracy to Sam Ketchum. Come in Sam.”

The staticky voice of Sam Ketchum answered the call. “Go ahead, Dick. What you got?”

“I’m at Anderson Trainyard. I may have closed the case on the pick pockets around town. I might be onto something else with that anonymous tip. Send a squad car to the Hooverville near the tracks. I have three passengers for them.”  

“You got it Tracy!” replied Sam.  

Tracy removed a pair of handcuffs and clasped Steve to Billy. He put another pair on the younger boy who was now gushing with tears and attached him to Billy. “I know with you three stuck together,you won’t get pretty far. Wait out front and someone’s going to pick you up shortly. And boys…” Tracy leaned close as his eyes turned to steel as he met both boy’s stare. “If I catch you doing this again, you’re going to jail instead of the orphanage. Got it?”