Stalking the Dragon (10 page)

The first thing Mallory saw was the restaurant. He'd seen a lot of rooftop restaurants that revolved left to right, or right to left, but this was the first one he'd ever seen that revolved top to bottom. Tables had been nailed to the floor, their magnetic surfaces held the metal dishes and glasses motionless, the chairs were affixed to the floors and the diners strapped into the chairs, and attentive if officious waiters covered each dish and wine goblet as its table tilted enough for them to begin spilling over the sides. The diners, about ninety percent of them women, chattered on, paying no attention to the waiters
or
the room.

“Odd,” said Jeeves, staring in through a window. “Very odd.”

“But original,” Joe noted.

“Originality is a greatly overrated virtue,” said Mallory. “The first case of nausea was original, too.”

He noticed a discreet sign in the window:

Help wanted: Waiters lacking in social graces. Must be French (or at least must be able to approximate French accents). Arrogance and condescension essential. No prior experience needed.

“Why am I not surprised?” muttered the detective.

“I think I see what we're looking for,” announced Joe, pointing to a shop just past the restaurant.

Mallory looked where Joe indicated. It was a store called Get Thee Behind Me, Satan, and given the goodies in the window, Mallory concluded that that was precisely where most of the calories were going to wind up. He walked over, entered the store, decided that although he was in perfect health it would be completely understandable if he lapsed into a diabetic coma in the next sixty seconds, and looked around for elephant-shaped chocolate marshmallow cookies. He found them right between the candied dinosaur eggs and the fruit-flavored malted milk balls.

“May I help you?” asked a young man from behind the counter.

“I have a question about these,” said Mallory, indicating the elephantshaped cookies.

“I can assure you that no elephants were harmed in the creation of these cookies, sir,” said the young man, smiling at his own joke.

“Have you sold any in the past seven or eight hours?”

The young man looked into the display case. “All right, so they're not that fresh. I'll give you three percent off.”

“Just answer the question.”

“Fifty percent off?”

Joe leaped onto a nearby counter and withdrew his sword. “Answer the question!” he yelled.

“Not in the last seven or eight hours, no sir.”

“How about the past two days?” Mallory turned to Jeeves. “Whoever stole her may have known this is what she eats, and planned ahead.”

“Someone bought some yesterday,” said the man.

“Who?”

The man shrugged. “He paid cash, so I don't have a record of his name.”

“Can you describe him?” said Mallory.

“A large man, with horns growing out of his head.”

“Brody,” said Mallory.

“No, my name's Irwin.”

“Not you,” said Mallory. He turned to Jeeves. “How long can she go without eating?”

“Toy dragons have a very high metabolic rate,” said the gremlin. “She has to eat every two or three hours. If she tried to sleep the night through, she'd be very sick and very weak by morning.”

“And no one's bought any of these things except Brody,” mused Mallory.

“She'd get the same nutrition value out of
any
chocolate marshmallow cookie,” said Jeeves. “She just prefers these.”

“But if she's starving, she might eat one of a different shape?” persisted Mallory.

“Yes, but…”

“Yeah, I know,” said Mallory. “If the thief knows she eats these things, he'd get them for her…and if he doesn't know, then he won't think of getting her a chocolate marshmallow rhino or lion either.”

“So where to next?” asked Joe.

Mallory turned to the young man behind the counter. “You got a phone book I can borrow for a minute?”

“Hey, you've got me, Hot Lips,” said Belle. “Just tell me what you want and I'll ring up Information for you—providing you press your lips
very
close to me when you're speaking.”

“Cancel the phone book,” said Mallory, as he pulled Belle out of his pocket.

“Okay, Big Boy,” she said in her best Mae West accent, “what can I do for you, other than the obvious?”

“I know there's a Bureau of Missing Persons,” said Mallory, “because my first case took me there. I know it's going to sound crazy, but I'm wondering if
this
Manhattan also has a Bureau of Missing Creatures?”

“Checking…” said Belle.

“I don't want to be rude,” said Jeeves, “but time is running out, and that may be the silliest suggestion I've heard all night.”

“I heard two sillier ones when I was a teenager,” Joe chimed in, “but that
was before I learned what you could and couldn't do inside a small phone booth with a naked goblin girl.”

“Probably the same thing I couldn't do with a gremlin girl in a null-gravity bathysphere,” said Jeeves.

“I'll bet it's not as silly as what I suggested to Sally Ann McDermitt after she had three drinks last night,” said the young man behind the counter. He paused thoughtfully. “All I got out of it was a slap in the face. I'll bet she'd have tried it if I could have just gotten her to have that fourth drink.”

“Anyway, Mallory,” said Jeeves, “it's silly, and that's all there is to it.”

“I sadly concur,” said Joe. “We need another plan of action.”

“Even I agree,” said the young man, “and I have no idea what's going on.”

“Excuse me for interrupting,” said Belle, “but do you need the phone number of the Bureau of Missing Creatures, or will the address be sufficient?”

C
HAPTER
13

11:51
PM
–12:44
AM

The old, dilapidated building was one of Manhattan's many deserted high schools. This one had miraculously avoided being burned to the ground by students who resented homework or parents who resented their illiterate teenaged children being given mediocre grades for sub-mediocre work. Since those halcyon days as a (theoretical) institution of learning, it had been a flea market, a crack house, and an auxiliary of the City Morgue, but now it sported a sedate, tasteful sign on what had been the gymnasium, stating that it indeed housed the Bureau of Missing Creatures.

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 row 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.”