“I’m Dave Cates, radio announcer,” he explained. “No charges against this kid, but hold him till I notify you.”
To the open-mouthed youth Cates said: “Don’t get worried, kid. We’ll talk this over later. Now peel off that livery, because I’m going to need it.”
As he dressed rapidly in the chauffeur’s uniform, Cates thanked the gods of luck that Margolo always made his drivers wear livery. In this rig, that was a very fair fit, the chances were good that he could escape detection. Cates had a suspicion that Margolo didn’t talk much with his drivers.
Out to the car, Cates ran, and started back to Margolo’s house.
The gangster was waiting impatiently with three of his men. “Long enough gettin’ here!” he snapped. “What the hell was the matter?”
“Traffic,” muttered Cates, hoping that he imitated the voice of the former driver.
Margolo didn’t appear to notice. With two of his men he got in the back seat. The third man got in front and leaned over the seat to join the low-toned conversation.
“Out by Jimmy’s,” ordered Margolo.
Cates nodded and started the car. For a moment he wondered where Jimmy’s was, then remembered it was a cafe out in the west end of the town, a meeting place for underworld leaders.