Cates smiled. “I see, kid,” he said. “Now if I were you I’d let Ed alone tonight. He’s in there all right, but I wouldn’t bother him.”
“But I gotta eat,” said the boy desperately. “I used my last nickel for car fare out here.”
The radio cop chewed at his lower lip. “That’s tough, kid,” he sympathized. “I’ve been that way myself. Tell you what I’ll do. I got ten bucks I can spare till you get your first pay from Ed. But don’t say anything to Ed about it because he don’t like to be bothered with such things. You get me, don’t you?”
Cates drew a ten-dollar bill from his pocket and handed it over.
“Say, there ain’t nothing wrong with you!” declared the youth warmly. “Don’t worry, I won’t say nothin’ to Ed.”
Alone, Cates grinned, confident that no one of the men from the Bureau of Criminal Investigation could have handled the matter any better. At least he had provided an entering wedge to the Margolo gang, even if he didn’t know just how he could use it.
His alert eyes sparkled. There was a real kick in this kind of business, entirely different from standing before a microphone and relaying messages.
Still there was pity mingled with his satisfaction. That boy had no business driving for Big Ed Margolo. But perhaps he had been compelled to take the first job offered.
Dave Cates determined to keep an eye on him. “The kid looked hungry,” was his thought, “and hunger has made many a crook. Maybe if I can nab Margolo in time, the kid won’t have any record against him.”
He cast a glance at the Salon Quintesse, turned and walked to the car line.