Bitcoin fixes this?
— The Visitor
Claire had a guy coming to the house for a dip in the hot tub. I barely made it home in time to do my part of the job. She'd been finding most of the marks lately, and it was important to her that they were bad guys. It made both of us feel even better about ripping them off. "This one's really bad," she said as his car pulled in the driveway. "He seems nice at first, and kind of dorky, but he's running a scam. It's a hell of a lot uglier than ours."
I scampered down to my workshop in the basement and closed the door. It was early December. The heater down there was blowing hot air with a growl, so I didn't hear the mark's voice, but my heart sank when I came upstairs to go through his clothes. I had a weird feeling, like something seemed familiar.
His T-shirt smelled like the scratchy cologne guys wear that's supposed to smell like wood and incense. My ex, Larry, wore that crap, back when I was working at The Shady Lady.
I grabbed the mark's driver's license without even looking at the thing. I snapped a picture and waited for it to develop before heading downstairs to copy his keys. Gotta check Polaroids to make sure they're in focus, y'know?
As the picture's color filled in, I saw a stupid skinny face with googly eyes that I knew too well. The name on the ID said Larry Durlacher. Goddamn. Claire reeled in my ex.
I texted her to say he was a cream cheese bagel. She replied, "Butterscotch."
Well, shit.
I made copies of his keys, mostly because I didn't know how this was gonna play out.
Larry left town in 2019, when he got in debt to a guy named Spyke. He didn't even say goodbye. Two years later, he was back? I sent Claire another text that said, "TAMPONS!"
When she finally wrapped things up with him in the hot tub and sent him out the door, she came stomping down the stairs, cursing every step of the way. "Oh, fuckin' A, I oughta, just... son of a... It's cold down here!" She was still wearing a bright white bikini, dripping water all over the place.
"There's a problem, Shay?"
"Yeah. Where'd you meet this guy?"
"You haven't been lining up marks, so I had to get creative. I found him at a video game tournament. They were doing a raffle and the grand prize was a hundred grand in Bitcoin. He bought a ticket."
"That doesn't mean he's gonna win!"
"He was wearing a black T-shirt that said, 'Bitcoin Fixes This.' He's a mark."
"He's a bagel."
"No, he's not. He's been buying Bitcoin for over a year with money from a scam. And it's bad."
"How bad?"
"Really bad. He volunteers at a couple of nursing homes, and he steals from the old folks. He even got a lady to name him in her will. Can you believe he told me that shit? He thought it made him look smart! Fuck that. We're taking him down. Hit his home fast, because as soon as you're done, I'm calling the cops. I'm gonna find the nursing homes too, to let 'em know."
"No, you're not!"
"Hell yes, I am!"
"We don't interfere with their lives, Claire. That's not our thing."
"Are you kidding me? We wreck their lives. We go after bad guys, and we hit them where it hurts. We're stealing more than just their coins, y'know. We're stealing their future."
"It's about Bitcoin!"
"It's about pain. You like making guys suffer, and this is a really bad guy. You're gonna rob him. I'm gonna wreck him."
"Here's the thing. I used to know this guy."
"I don't care. I did my job. You can't do yours?"
"Of course I can!"
"Then do it. Hit his home, Shay. You've got twenty-four hours before I turn him in. And when he lands in prison, I'm gonna visit to let him know I'm the one who got him. Stealing from the elderly? Oh, hell no."
I couldn't talk her out of it, so I went to Larry's apartment the next day, while he was at the video game tournament again. Claire said he'd be there from 6 to 10pm.
It only took a few minutes to find his seed words. Dumbass wrote 'em on a sticky note and used it as a bookmark in his journal. The goddamn thing was sitting on his desk.
I raided his kitchen for snacks while I waited for him to come home. I chowed down half a box of Nutter Butters. Some Ding Dongs too.
When he finally arrived, he opened the front door, and muttered, "Huh? I left the lights on?"
"No," I said. "I turned 'em on."
He jumped when he saw me sitting on his couch. He looked like he'd seen a ghost.
"Dandy! Wow! How'd you get in? Wait. How'd you find me? How are you?"
"I'm fine. You're fucked."
"What?"
"Larry, you're an idiot. You've been scamming old folks, and you're busted. By this time tomorrow, the nursing homes will know."
"How do you know?"
"It doesn't matter. I'm just giving you a heads up 'cause we've got history."
"What do I do?"
"There's nothing to do. You fucked up. You made your choice and you got caught."
"By who?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Right, but..."
"Doesn't matter, Larry."
"But..."
"Fate's coming. Face it or run. It'll getcha either way."
"Dandy! What do I do?!?"
"There's nothing you can do. It's over. The cops are coming. Probably tomorrow."
Larry was as white as you'd think a guy named Larry would be, but when I mentioned the cops, he turned at least five shades whiter than that.
And then, he was gone.
He barely packed anything. He just threw some clothes in a backpack and flew out the door like his freedom depended on it, which it certainly did. I didn't ask where he was going. I didn't want to know.
I knew I'd never see him again.
Oh, Larry.
Typical guy.
Dumb as a dildo in a box of cocks. But he had 21 BTC, so his old people scam must have been pretty fucking good. Claire was right though. What he did was awful. He got what he deserved, and I got his Bitcoin.
Editor's Note:
Larry Durlacher was apprehended on Christmas Eve, 2021. He was convicted of elder abuse and financial fraud, and is currently serving a five-year sentence at the Westville Correctional Facility.
In February 2023, Claire visited him in prison. She wore a custom-made T-shirt that said, "Bitcoin fixes this?"