Crime Circus

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“SO Dombo Carlin is still in town, eh?”

The questioner was a stocky, swarthy-faced man. He was seated behind a battered desk in a small office. Detective Joe Cardona — at present an acting inspector — was quizzing a pasty-faced, rat-eyed little fellow who sat in front of him.

“Yeah. Dombo’s in town.” The little man whined the statement. “But don’t let nobody wise that I told you, Joe. They’d croak me — honest they would.”

“You’re safe, Dowdy,” growled Cardona, impatiently. “We pulled in fifty others like you with the dragnet. Nobody will know who talked. That is” — Cardona’s gaze narrowed — “nobody will know anything if you tell me all you know.”

“I’m tellin’ you, Joe,” pleaded “Dowdy” earnestly. “Honest, I am. I seen Dombo Carlin aroun’ at a coupla of the joints. He was smart enough to dodge the net, that’s all. He an’ those three gorillas that are stickin’ wid him.”

“And you think we could grab him tonight?”

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