Stalking the Dragon Page 11

  Mallory and his party walked up to the reception desk, where a tall, exceptionally thin man with scaly skin and large unblinking eyes watched them approach.

  “Welcome,” he said at last in a sibilant voice. “We take deliveries around back.”

  “Deliveries?” said Mallory, puzzled.

  “A goblin, a gremlin, and a cat-thing,” said the clerk. “I assume they were scavenging in your yard and you brought them here.”

  Mallory shook his head. “You misunderstand,” he said. “They're friends.”

  “Ah!” said the clerk, his face lighting up. “Now I comprehend! You wish to find paramours of the goblin and gremlin race, and a tomcat for the cat-thing. I call that damned generous of you, sir.”

  “Try not to comprehend quite so fast,” said Mallory. “I'm looking for a toy dragon.”

  “Have you tried F.A.O. Schwarz?” suggested the clerk. “They're the biggest toy store in the city.”

  “Just listen to me,” said Mallory.

  “Or how about Macy's? They may not tell Gimble's where they keep their toys, but they'll tell you.”

  Joe leaped up onto the counter, sword in hand. “Just shut up and listen!” he snapped.

  The clerk made the motion of turning a key to lock his lips, then throwing it away. Felina dived through the air to catch it, and landed empty-handed with a puzzled expression on her face.

  “He cheated!” she complained. “Everybody hates me.”

  “That's not so,” said Mallory.

  “It isn't?”

  “Only people who know you hate you.”

  Felina's face brightened. “I never thought of that.” She turned around. “Skritch between my shoulder blades.”

  “Don't you touch that hussy!” shouted Belle. “You're mine!”

  “Who said that?” asked the clerk, looking around.

  “I did,” replied Belle.

  He still couldn't spot her, so Mallory pulled her out of his pocket.

  She giggled girlishly.

  “Move that finger, you naughty boy, you!” she said.

  The clerk stared harder. “Madre de Dios!” he whispered.

  “Pay no attention to her, John Justin,” said Felina. “You know you love to skritch my back.”

  “I've seen men with complicated love lives before,” said the clerk, “but I've never seen a man who was having simultaneous affairs with a cat-thing and a cell phone!”

  Mallory stared at him for a long moment. He was considering staring him down until he noticed that the clerk didn't have any eyelids. “Now listen to me and don't interrupt,” he said in clipped tones. “We are looking for a toy dragon. By definition, that is a dragon that is less than twelve inches at the shoulder. She went missing in midafternoon, so I'm only interested in toy dragons that showed up here after, say, three o'clock. Now, do you have any?”

  “Any what?” asked the clerk.

  “Toy dragons, idiot!” screamed Joe, bringing his sword down and stopping it an inch from the top of the clerk's head.

  “Now look what you've made me do!” complained the clerk.

  “What?” said Joe.

  Felina leaned over the counter and smiled. “Small puddle,” she announced.

  “My arm's getting tired,” said Joe. “I can't hold the sword up much longer. Are you going to answer the question or not?”

  “Larger puddle,” said Felina.

  “I don't know what's come in today,” said the clerk. “I just greet the public and talk them into making donations. Just walk back to the pens and you can see what we've got for yourself.”

  Joe sheathed his sword. “You'd better be telling the truth.” He paused and glared at the clerk. “I'll be back.” Suddenly he smiled at Mallory. “That's a great line. Maybe they should use it in a movie someday.”

  He hopped lightly to the floor, and then Mallory and his party went through the doorway indicated. They soon found themselves surrounded by chain-link pens, each housing some creature that had been found wandering the streets and brought here by public-minded citizens.

  As they passed the first pen, a catlike creature with a man's face approached them.

  “What the hell is that?” asked Mallory.

  “A mantichora,” replied Jeeves. “Very scarce, except in upstate Vermont. My guess is that this one's a pet who got lost.”

  The mantichora gave them an ingratiating smile, sat up on its haunches, and hummed a sweet, lilting melody.

  “Begging for treats,” said Jeeves knowingly.

  The next pen held two Gnomes of the Subway, who simply glared at Mallory and stayed at the far end of the enclosure.

  “Help!” said a human-sounding voice, and Mallory walked down to where he had heard it.

  A small, dapper, balding man with a three-piece suit, horn-rimmed glasses, and an umbrella hanging from a forearm walked up to the gate of his pen.

  “Was that you?” asked Mallory.

  “Yes,” said the man, clearly upset. “I am Marvin Finkelstein of 429 Castlebury Drive in Westchester, and I don't know what I'm doing here!”

  “Waiting to be claimed,” offered Joe.

  “You make me feel like a racehorse,” protested the man.

  “More like an object in the Lost and Found.”

  “I am not an object, no matter what Sylvia says!” yelled the man. “I'm a bookkeeper for Penworthy & Smythe, and if I'm not back at work by eight o'clock tomorrow morning I'll be fired!”

  “Oh, you poor thing!” said Belle.

  The man frowned and finally said, “I know this is going to sound strange, but your chest is talking to me.”

  “He has a very compassionate chest,” said Joe.

  “But he's in love with mine,” added Belle.

  The man blinked very rapidly. “Your chest seems to be capable of independent thought, and it's clearly a different sex from the rest of you.”

  “They don't get much different,” agreed Mallory. He stared at the little man. “How the hell did you wind up here?”

  “It's that yenta's doing!” said the man. “Just because I complained about her matzo ball soup…”

  “That's hardly considerate,” said Belle.

  “You didn't taste the soup,” said the man. He shuddered. “I hate to think how many matzos were gelded to make that hideous concoction.”

  “I think you're laboring under a false impression,” said Mallory.

  “Go ahead,” sniffed the man. “Take her side. Everyone does.”

  “I feel sorry for you,” said Belle. “I think a roll in the hay would ease your tensions and make you forget about your problems.”

  “With this gentleman's chest?”

  “Oh, no,” she said promptly. “I'm reserved for the studmuffin here. I thought we'd give you the cat-thing.”

  Felina hissed and displayed her claws in front of Mallory's lapel pocket.

  “You don't scare me,” said Belle.

  Felina swiped at the pocket, shredding some material just next to it.

  “Cut it out, both of you!” said Mallory.

  “Don't worry, Sweetmeat,” said Belle. “I'll protect you.”

  “One more word out of you and I'll leave you here,” said Mallory.

  “But I'm already here,” said the man.

  “I was speaking to my cell phone.”

  The man shook his head. “And I thought my nephew Morris was weird!”

  “Give him time,” said Joe. “He's young yet.”

  “Joe, you might as well let Mr. Finkelstein out of there,” said Mallory. He turned to the man. “You can come with us.”

  “With all of you?” said the man.

  “Yeah.”

  “Including the phone and the cat creature?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know,” he said, “I'm sure Sylvia's on her way to claim me right now. I think I'd better just stay in here and wait for her.”

  Mallory shrugged. “Have it your way.”

  He resumed walking down the ro
w of pens.

  “One question,” said the man.

  “What is it?”

  “I've got to know. You and the cell phone—how do you…?”

  Mallory stared at him. “You have a low mind.” He turned and continued walking.

  “Psst!” said Joe.

  The man leaned down to the goblin's level.

  “I haven't watched them, mind you,” said Joe. “But since she's a cell phone, I'd be surprised if they didn't do it orally.”

  “That's either a horrible pun or a profound observation,” said the man. “I'll have to consider and decide which.”

  The next pen contained a small pool, and as Mallory was watching it a slimy green serpent stuck its head out.

  “It's getting so one can't go skinny-dipping in private anymore,” complained the serpent in perfect English.

  Mallory made no comment, but simply looked at it, frowning.

  “Something bothering you, buddy?” demanded the serpent.

  “I have the feeling that I've seen you before.”

  “You go to the movies?”

  “From time to time,” said Mallory.

  “Ever see Creature from the Mauve Lagoon?”

  “A long time ago.”

  “That was me.”

  “What are you doing here?” asked Mallory.

  “My unemployment benefits ran out,” said the serpent. “You'd be surprised how few job openings there are for a twenty-seven-foot sea serpent, even one that can speak five languages and sing in the key of H. So the city lets me stay here.”

  “Maybe they'll make a sequel,” said Joe sympathetically. “These days the definition of an endangered species is a book or a movie with no sequels.”

  “My agent's working on it,” said the serpent. “Last year he got me a tryout for the remake of Moby Dick.” He uttered a mournful sigh. “But I didn't get the part.”

  “Not big enough?” suggested Mallory.

  “No, that wasn't it,” said the serpent. “I simply couldn't walk on that damned peg leg.”

  “I don't suppose you've seen a small dragon today?”

  “Sorry,” said the serpent. “Usually I only see them after I eat some bad chili.”

  “Then I think we'd better be moving on,” said Mallory.

  “If you see Cecil or Otto, tell them I'm available.”

  “I think they've been replaced by George and Stephen,” said Mallory. “Or maybe Clint.”

  They passed three zombies, a gorgon, a chimera, two unicorns, a banshee, a harpy (Belle insisted Mallory avert his eyes until the harpy started wearing a bra), a phoenix, and two miniature dragons which each stood about fifteen inches at the shoulder. Mallory was able to speak to about a third of the creatures, and questioned them closely about Fluffy, but no one had seen any dragon answering to her description.

  “It's a big city, and a very small dragon,” said Mallory to Jeeves. “Maybe I should talk to your boss again, and see if he's got any personal enemies, someone who might want to see him lose the show for some reason other than to have their own entry win.”

  “No,” said Jeeves adamantly. “Buffalo Bill Brody hasn't got an enemy in the world. Time's getting short. We have to keep looking.”

  “Okay,” said Mallory, “but I'm running out of ideas. We've tried the pond, and Greenwitch Village, and this place…”

  “And Frump Tower,” said Joe. “Don't forget Frump Tower.”

  “I'm trying my best to,” said Mallory sardonically. He turned to Jeeves. “You're the expert. What's next?”

  The gremlin lowered his head in thought for a moment, then looked up.

  “There is one place where dragons are objects of respect, not to say study. We might be able to come up with a clue or a lead there.”

  “I'm game,” said Mallory. “Where is it?”

  “Chinatown.”

  CHAPTER 14

  12:44 AM–1:19 AM

  They walked down the darkened street, their footsteps echoing off the pavement.

  “We must be getting close,” said Mallory. “There's a Chinese carryout every half-block.”

  “There's a Mexican carryout every half-block too,” said Belle. “I can smell it from in here.”

  “You'd better let me go first,” said Joe, stepping forward and brandishing his sword. “Tong members don't scare me. I'm ready for anything.”

  “Joe, put your sword away,” said Mallory.

  “Why?” asked the goblin.

  “If you saw a stranger walking through your neighborhood with a sword in his hand, what would you think—that he's looking for a dragon, or that he's looking for a fight?”

  “No problem,” said Joe, sheathing his sword. “My hands are deadly weapons, and are registered with the police departments in Saigon, Macao, Hong Kong, Manhattan, and Chinquapin, North Carolina.”

  “Chinquapin?” repeated Mallory, curious.

  “There was this girl…” said Joe wistfully.

  They saw an ancient, bald, bent-over Oriental man emerge from a hotel, walking unsteadily with a cane.

  “I'll handle this,” said Joe.

  “Handle what?” asked Mallory.

  “Canes can be deadly weapons. Leave him to me.”

  “Joe, if he swings that cane, or even picks it up off the ground, he'll fall over.”

  “That's what he wants you to think,” said Joe suspiciously.

  “What makes you think he knows anything about Fluffy?”

  “We have to start somewhere,” responded the goblin.

  “Let's start with someone who has a fifty-fifty chance of still being alive at ring time,” said Mallory.

  Joe shrugged. “You're the boss.”

  “I'm glad someone remembers that,” muttered the detective.

  They passed a row of gift shops filled with cheap presents and cheaper tourists, and Felina told Mallory which fifteen items she wanted from each. Next came a trio of Chinese restaurants, and finally a small building with a sign in the window that this was Tong Headquarters, Local 84. Mallory turned to Jeeves.

  “All right, we're in Chinatown. What now?”

  “I don't know,” admitted the gremlin. “I just know that the Chinese are partial to dragons.”

  “Even when it isn't New Year's?”

  “Absolutely,” said Jeeves. “The dragon is the Chinese pet of choice.”

  “Are you saying you think someone stole Fluffy to keep as a pet?” asked Mallory.

  “No.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  Jeeves shrugged. “Just that this seems a likely place to look for her.”

  “I thought you were supposed to be the expert on dragons,” said Mallory irritably. “I need more input than that.”

  “I am an expert on dragons,” said Jeeves defensively. “But you are supposed to be the expert on criminals.”

  Mallory glared at him for a long moment, then turned to Felina. “Do you remember what Fluffy smells like?” he asked.

  “Like a dragon,” answered the cat-girl.

  “I'm surrounded by experts,” said Mallory dryly.

  “Forget them, Sweetie,” said Belle. “I'm all you'll ever need.”

  “I'm open to suggestions,” said Mallory. “What's your take on the situation?”

  “Kiss me first.”

  Mallory pulled out the phone and stared at it. “Where?”

  Belle uttered a high-pitched giggle. “I'll let you decide.”

  “You'd better have something interesting to say,” said Mallory, bringing the phone to his lips and briefly kissing it. A pudgy Oriental woman on the other side of the street, who had been watching him suspiciously, almost fell over laughing.

  “That's it?” demanded Belle. “Where was the passion? Where was the romance? Where was the je ne sais quoi?”

  “I left them in my other suit,” said Mallory. “Now what's your suggestion?”

  “There's a sign on the next block,” said Belle. “Can you see it?”

  “Yea
h.”

  “Well?”

  “‘The Dragon Lady Sees All, Knows All, Tells All,’” read Mallory. “Are you seriously suggesting I should go to a Chinese fortune-teller?”

  “Why not?”

  “Fortune-tellers are all phonies.”

  “Not in this Manhattan,” said Belle.

  “She's right, you know,” said Joe. “I lost my dagger two months ago. I looked everywhere and couldn't find it. So I went to Madame Markoff, and she solved my problem.”

  “She told you where the dagger was?” asked Mallory.

  “She told me to bet on Blarney Stone in the fifth race at Aqueduct.”

  “What the hell has that got to do with a missing dagger?”

  “Blarney Stone paid eighteen-to-one, and I used the money to buy a new dagger and treat myself to dinner.”

  “So was she a fortune-teller or a tout?” asked the detective.

  “What difference does it make?” replied Joe. “I paid her to solve a problem. She solved it.” He patted the hilt of his dagger.

  “Did she also tell you where to look for the damned thing?”

  “She told me that Slippery Stanley had a fine dagger for sale in his window, and to remember to give her an extra five-spot if Blarney Stone won.”

  “I don't want a substitute Fluffy,” said Mallory. “I want the original item.”

  “It can't hurt to ask,” said Joe. “I mean, ordinarily I'd be very leery of anything an oversexed cell phone said…”

  “Well, I like that!” snapped Belle.

  “…but when she gives you battle-tested advice like this,” continued Joe, “how can you go wrong?”

  “I'm sure Will Shakespeare could give you an answer,” said Mallory.

  “He could?”

  “‘Let me count the ways,’” quoted the detective.

  “So you're not going to give it a try?”

  “I haven't heard any better suggestions,” said Mallory, heading off toward the little storefront on the next block. “Belle, you'd better be right.”

  “I am,” said the phone. “Though for a kiss like that, it'd serve you right if all she directed you to was a dead cat.”

  Felina stopped peering into store windows long enough to hiss.

  “No offense intended, cat-thing,” said Belle. “Make it a dead dog instead.”

  “Well,” said Mallory as they approached the shop, “she's called the Dragon Lady. At least that's encouraging.”