Stalking The Zombie: Fables of Tonight Read online

  “I’ll say this for my luck,” he muttered. “It’s consistent.”

  “No luck at the track?” asked Mallory as he met Winnifred in front of the dog pound.

  “None,” she said. “How about the zoo?”

  “The only luck I had there is that I’m still alive.”

  “By the way,” added Winnifred, “I checked in with Nick the Saint, and he still hasn’t received a demand for ransom.”

  “That’s damned strange,” said Mallory, frowning. “What the hell else can you do with a reindeer?”

  “Eat it,” suggested Felina.

  “What do you think, John Justin?” asked Winnifred.

  He shook his head. “If that was the motive, why steal the most valuable one? No one’s going to eat his nose.”

  “Then I suggest we stop wasting time out here and check out the pound,” said Winnifred.

  “Just a minute,” said Mallory. He led Felina back to his car, sat her down in the back seat, secured the safety belt, and then locked all the doors.

  “She created problems at the zoo?” asked Winnifred when he had rejoined her.

  “Not half as many as she can create at a dog pound,” answered Mallory. “I know that trouble is our business, but she seems bound and determined to turn it into our hobby as well.”

  They walked up to the main office, where a large shaggy man with a face resembling a Saint Bernard got up from his desk and greeted them.**

  “Good afternoon, dear friends,” he said, drooling slightly from the corner of his mouth. “Welcome to the Manhattan Dog Pound. How many I help you?”

  “We’re looking for a reindeer,” said Mallory.

  “One with a blue nose,” added Winnifred.

  The man growled deep within his throat. “Why would you expect to find a reindeer here?”

  “Just a hunch,” said Mallory.

  “Well, you’re certainly welcome to inspect our premises, but I guarantee you won’t find what you’re looking for,” said the man, starting to pant slightly. “Let me get one of our employees to accompany you.” He pressed a button on his desk, and a moment later a lean man with chalk-white skin and black spots all over it entered the room. “Tyge,” he said, “please give these two visitors a tour of the premises.”

  “Rrrright,” said Tyge. He turned to Winnifred. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Likewise, I’m sure,” said Winnifred, extending her hand. Tyge took it in his own hands, held it to his nose, and took a deep sniff, then repeated the same procedure with Mallory.

  “Arfter me,” said Tyge, leading them through a door at the back of the office.

  They found themselves in a narrow aisle between two sets of chain-linked runs, and inside each was a man, woman, or child.

  “I thought this was a dog pound,” said Mallory.

  “Yep, it sure is, yep, yep, yip,” said Tyge. “Each of these people wants a dog for Christmas, so when any stray dogs show up, we send ’em in here and see if they want to go home with any of them.”

  “Back where I come from, dog pounds hold dogs, not people,” said Mallory.

  “No dog deserves such ruff treatment,” said Tyge, barking the word. His upper lip curled back, revealing a row of clean white teeth. “I never heard of anything so brutal. Imagine, putting dogs in cages and letting people choose which ones they want!”

  “Different strokes,” said Mallory. “Do you have any reindeer here?”

  “Never heard of a reindeer wanting a dog before,” chuckled Tyge. “That’s a larf!”

  “Then we won’t take up any more of your valuable time,” said Winnifred.

  “It’s been my pleasure, ma’am,” said Tyge. “I wonder if you could do me one little favor before you leave?”

  “What?”

  He turned his back to her. “Could you just kind of scratch between my shoulder blades a bit?”

  Winnifred reached forward and scratched.

  “Now under the chin?”

  Winnifred scratched again, and suddenly Tyge’s left leg began shaking spasmodically.

  “That’s enough, ma’am,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” said Winnifred, following Mallory back to the exit.

  “Well, that was a waste of time,” said Mallory. “Maybe we’d better check in with Nick the Saint and see if anyone’s contacted him yet.”

  “Maybe we’d better rescue the car first,” said Winnifred, walking out into the open, for Felina had somehow worked her way loose and had three dog pound employees, each more canine in appearance than the last, cowering on the hood of the car while she grinned and displayed her claws to them.

  Mallory walked behind her and encircled her with an arm, lifting her off the ground while she writhed and spat. The three employees raced toward the safety of the pound, howling their terror.

  “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” said Winnifred when Mallory had stuffed Felina into the car and started the engine.

  Felina licked her forearm and turned her back on them.

  “I’m speaking to you, young lady!” snapped Winnifred.

  “I think it’s going to snow again,” said Felina, looking out the window.

  “You know,” said Mallory, who had been silent since leaving the dog pound, “now that I come to think of it, my Manhattan wasn’t so bad.”

  Winnifred hung up the phone. “He still hasn’t gotten any ransom request.”

  “I think,” said Mallory, “that it’s about time we started considering the fact that the damned reindeer wasn’t stolen for ransom, and begin examining other possibilities.”

  They were back in the office, and Felina had been banished to the kitchen, where she had turned on the tap in the kitchen sink and was watching, fascinated, as the water swirled down into the drain.

  “I’m open to suggestions,” said Winnifred. “Why else would someone steal a reindeer?”

  “Not just a reindeer,” Mallory pointed out. “But a bluenosed reindeer with certain talents that none of the others had.”

  “The military?” suggested Winnifred. “They’d give a pretty penny to get their hands on an animal that could dodge heat-seeking missiles.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Mallory.

  “Why not?”

  “Because they would give a pretty penny for Jasper,” he said. “If they wanted him, they’d simply appropriate the funds to buy him.”

  “What if Nick didn’t want to sell?”

  “Then they’d have found some way to confiscate him,” replied Mallory.

  “All right,” said Winnifred. “If not the military, then who?”

  “I keep going over it and over it in my mind,” said Mallory, “and I keep coming up with the same answer: a competitor.”

  “He doesn’t have any competitors, John Justin.”

  “Well, he does now,” said Mallory. “He’s without a lead reindeer, and someone else has one four days before Christmas.”

  “Where’s the motive?” asked Winnifred. “It’s certainly not profit, not if this competitor is giving away presents all over the world.” She paused. “And the kind of person who has enough goodness to give them away isn’t the type to steal another man’s reindeer in the first place.”

  “What kind of person does steal Nick the Saint’s reindeer four days before Christmas?” mused Mallory.

  “I don’t know,” said Winnifred.

  “I think,” said Mallory, “that I’d better pay another visit to Alexander the Greater first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Mallory pulled his car up to the barn and got out of it. “So you’re back again?” said Alexander the Greater, walking out of the barn to greet him.

  “That’s right.”

  “Got some more questions?”

  “Better ones, too,” said Mallory. “But first I’d like to take another look at Jasper’s stall.”

  “Be my guest,” said Alexander. “You know where it is.”

  “Thanks,” said Mallory.
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br />   He entered the barn and started walking past the stalls, peering into each of them. When he came to Number 43, which had belonged to Jasper, he walked right past it and down to the end of the barn, then returned to Alexander.

  “You’ve been doing a little business, I see,” said Mallory.

  “Not much,” answered Alexander. “Things are pretty quiet right before Christmas.”

  ‘You’re too modest,” said Mallory. “Just yesterday you were boarding forty-nine reindeer, and today you’ve only got forty-one. That means you sold eight of them since I was here.”

  “Well, they come, they go, you know how it is,” said Alexander with a shrug.

  “No I don’t,” said Mallory. “Suppose you tell me how it is.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Who did you sell the reindeer to?”

  “That’s none of your business, Mr. Mallory,” said Alexander the Greater.

  “As a matter of fact, I’ve got a feeling that it is my business,” said Mallory. “Was it the same person who took Jasper away yesterday morning?”

  ‘You’re guessing, Mr. Mallory.”

  “I’m a good guesser, Alexander,” said Mallory. “For example, I’d guess that you’re looking at five to ten years for aiding and abetting in the theft of Nick the Saint’s reindeer. I’d also guess that I’d be willing to forget your complicity if you’d supply me the name I want.”

  “Not a chance,” said Alexander stubbornly.

  “Then I’d guess that I’m going to walk into your office and find it on my own.”

  “Two out of three ain’t bad,” said Alexander with a nasty grin. He put two fingers into his mouth and emitted a loud whistle, and suddenly three wiry little figures, each half the size of a grown man, raced out of the barn. “Meet my security team, Mr. Mallory,” he said, indicating the three leprechauns. “Team, this is Mr. Mallory, whose presence is no longer desired here.”

  “We’ll kill him,” growled the nearest of the leprechauns.

  “We’ll rip his head off his shoulders,” added the second.

  “We’ll gut him like a fish,” said the third.

  “There won’t be enough of him left to bury,” said the first leprechaun.

  “We’ll slice him to bits with such dexterity that we’ll be awarded both ears and the tail,” said the second.

  “The bigger they are, the harder the fall,” said the third. “He’ll never know what hit him.”

  Mallory had been retreating toward his car. Once there, he opened the door and Felina jumped out. She faced the leprechauns, grinned, and stretched out her fingers. All ten of her claws glistened in the morning sunlight.

  “Of course,” added the first leprechaun, “we could avoid a lot of needless violence and bloodshed and simply discuss the matter.”

  “Right,” said the second. “Maybe we could cut a deck of cards, like gentleman. If he’s low, he leaves; if he’s high, he gets to inspect your records.”

  “Besides, my lumbago’s been bothering me recently,” added the third leprechaun.

  “Yours, too?” said the first, as Felina took a step toward them. “Suddenly my rheumatism is acting up. Must be the weather.”

  “I’ve got weak kidneys, myself,” said the second. “In fact,” he added, “now that I think of it, I gotta go to the bathroom!” He turned and raced off.

  “The door sticks,” said the first leprechaun, following him at a dead run. “I’ll help you.”

  “What a bunch of cowards!” said the third leprechaun contemptuously.

  “Then you propose to stay and fight?” asked Mallory.

  “No, but only because my religion doesn’t permit me to fight on Tuesdays. It’s a matter of high moral principle.”

  “This is a Friday,” said Mallory.

  “It is?” asked the leprechaun.

  Felina grinned and nodded.

  “My goodness!” said the leprechaun. “It’s only four days from Tuesday. I’d better be on my best behavior, just to be on the safe side.” He turned to Alexander the Greater. “Sorry, Chief, but I’m off to sacrifice a fatted lamb, if I can find one.”

  He turned and raced off across the landscape as fast as his muscular little legs could carry him.

  “Well?” said Mallory.

  “You win,” said Alexander with a sigh. “I’ll give you the name you want.”

  “I’d rather see it in black and white,” said Mallory. “Somehow I’ve lost my trust in this place.” He turned to Felina. “Keep an eye out for the leprechauns, and warn me if Alexander tries to leave the barn.”

  He went to the office, which was just inside the entrance, and started thumbing through paperwork that hadn’t yet been filed. Within two minutes he found what he was looking for. He put the papers in his pocket, waited for Felina to reluctantly give up waiting for the leprechauns and jump into the back seat, and drove back to town.

  “You have a triumphant smirk on your face, John Justin,” said Winnifred when he returned to the office.

  “Not without cause,” he replied.

  “What did you find out?” she asked.

  “I know who stole Jasper, and I think I know why,” said Mallory.

  “But?” she said. “It sounds like there should be a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence.

  “You’re very perceptive,” said Mallory. “I know who stole the reindeer, and I think I know why . . . but I’m not sure that justice will be served by pressing charges.”

  “It’s your job to arrest criminals,” said Winnifred.

  He shook his head. “It’s the police’s job to arrest criminals. It’s our job to make our client happy, and I think I see a way to do that, but first I’m going to have to confront the thief.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “I’ve met him once before, the first night I came to this Manhattan,” said Mallory. “He didn’t kill me then; there’s no reason why he should kill me now.”

  “You probably didn’t have information that could send him to jail then,” Winnifred pointed out.

  “He’ll know I’m not stupid enough to have it with me,” answered Mallory. “If anything happens to me, I expect you to use it.”

  “I don’t even know what it is.”

  “I’m about to lay it out to you,” said Mallory, removing the papers from his pocket. “And then I’m going to see what kind of deal we can make.”

  The Old Abandoned Warehouse was practically hidden by the thick fog coming off the East River, but Mallory knew where it was, and he knew—-or thought he knew—what he would find there. He parked in a lot about three blocks away, then walked past a row of bars and restaurants catering to goblins and a strip joint promising that Slinky Scaly Sally would shed everything, even her skin, to make her reptilian audience happy, and finally he came to the unmarked door that he sought, and knocked on it.

  “Who’s there?” demanded a deep voice.

  “John Justin Mallory.”

  ‘You got an appointment?”

  “No,” answered Mallory. ‘You got a good lawyer?”

  The door squeaked open, and Mallory found himself confronting a huge blue-skinned man in a purple sharkskin suit, light blue shirt, violet tie, and navy blue shoes and socks. He stood just under seven feet tall, and weighed in the vicinity of five hundred pounds.

  “Well, well,” said the Prince of Whales. “So the Grundy hasn’t killed you yet.”

  “Have you got some place where we can sit down and talk?” asked Mallory.

  “Why do I want to talk to you?” asked the Prince of Whales.

  “Because I know all about the blue-nosed reindeer.”

  “People have died for saying less than that to me,” said the Prince of Whales.

  “Yeah, I suppose they have,” answered Mallory. “But they were stupid people. They probably didn’t tell you up front that whatever they had on you would be turned over to the police if you laid a finger on them.”

  The Prince of Whales glared at him for a long mo
ment, then shrugged. “All right, shamus,” he said. “Follow me.”

  He led Mallory through the enormous warehouse to a small office built into a corner of it, then ushered him inside.

  “Drink?” he said, holding up a bottle containing a blue liquid and scores of small fish swimming around in it.

  “I’ll take a pass,” said Mallory, sitting down.

  “Good,” said the Prince of Whales. “There’s that much more for me, then.” He lifted the bottle to his lips and drained its contents, fish and all.

  “Do they tickle when they go down?” asked Mallory curiously.

  “Not so’s you’d notice it,” answered the Prince. “Now cut the chatter and let’s talk deal.”

  “What makes you think I’m here to offer you a deal?”

  “If you weren’t, you’d have sent the cops,” answered the Prince. “So let’s have it.”

  “Okay,” said Mallory. “Let me start with what I know.”

  “That shouldn’t take long.”

  “I know that you leased eight reindeer from Alexander the Greater this morning. I know you took them away with you. I know the lease expires in a week.”

  “And that’s it?” asked the Prince.

  “Not quite,” said Mallory. “I know you’re the biggest fence in Manhattan.”

  “Everyone knows that,” said the Prince of Whales, “but they ain’t never proved it in court.”

  “Now let me tell you what I think,” continued Mallory.

  The Prince of Whales reached into his pocket, pulled out a penny, and tossed it the detective. “For your thoughts,” he said.

  “I think that they’re getting awfully close to proving it,” he said. “I think you’ve gotten word that sometime shortly after Christmas they’re going to raid your warehouse, before you have a chance to hide or unload your merchandise.”

  “You think so, do you?” said the Prince.

  Mallory nodded. “And I think you saw a way to get rid of your inventory right out in the open, where nobody would even dream of trying to stop you.” He paused. “I think you stole Jasper and leased the other reindeer so that you could dump all your illegal goods on Christmas Eve. After all, who arrests Santa Claus for giving away millions of presents? And so what if this year there are a few more video recorders and toasters and boom boxes and a few less toys? Most of the people will be just as happy, and when the bust comes in a week or two, your warehouse is empty and nothing can be traced back to you. You won’t even have the reindeer, and I’ve got a hunch that Alexander will suddenly find poor old Jasper grazing in some nearby forest, where everyone will assume he’s been living for the past week.”