Stalking the Dragon (12 page)

“We'll take your word for it,” said Mallory. “Could you get on with it, please?”

She quoted stanzas from “The Face on the Barroom Floor,” “Casey at the Bat,” and “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” followed by two of the more salacious verses of “The Ring Dang Doo,” then peered into the crystal for a long moment.

“Well,” she said when she looked up again, “I can give you bad news or no news.”

“You want to explain that?” said Mallory.

“There's no live dragon in Chinatown that fits Fluffy's description. Either she's been processed and served at Ming Toy Epstein's Kosher Chinese Eatery down the street, or she never got to Chinatown.” She paused. “I wish I could help you further, but I never leave the premises and I don't have a phone.”

“Use mine,” said Mallory, pulling out his cell phone.

“Finally an acknowledgment!” exclaimed Belle. “I
am
yours, just as you are mine!”

“Does it bite?” asked the Dragon Lady, staring at Belle.

“I only bite the superstud here,” said Belle. “Little love bites. It drives him crazy.”

The Dragon Lady picked up the phone as if it was a loaded bomb that might go off any second, quickly punched out the numbers as Belle cried “Ouch!” at each touch, and then held it a few inches from her ear.

“Hello?” she said. “Yes, this is me. I need to know: Have you got any dragon on the menu today? No. How about a few hours ago? Thanks. And as long as you ask, yes, send over a pig, a chicken, and a duck. No, don't kill them; I like them fresh. Yes, I'll be waiting.”

She handed the phone back to Mallory.

“No dragon?” he asked.

“None.”

“Thanks for your trouble.”

“Thanks for your fifty dollars,” she said.

“For
that
?” he demanded.

“Okay, three ninety-five.”

He pulled out four ones and placed the on the desk. “Keep the change.”

“Maybe it isn't benign after all,” the Dragon Lady yelled after him as he and Jeeves rejoined Joe and Felina out on the street.

C
HAPTER
15

1:19
AM
–1:48
AM

“Where to now?” asked Joe.

“Doesn't make much difference,” said Mallory. “Winnifred's due to call in a few minutes, and we'll see where she wants to meet.” He shrugged. “She's sure as hell not going to want to traipse all the way down to Chinatown, so I suppose we might as well start heading back to Brody's place.”

“Doesn't it make more sense to meet at your office?” asked Jeeves.

“Why?” asked Mallory.

Jeeves shrugged. “She might not be able to find Mr. Brody's building.”

“She was there just a few hours ago,” said Mallory, “and she knows her way around this Manhattan better than I do.” He began walking. “Let's go.” He raised his voice. “I hope you're enjoying all this.”

“I most certainly am not,” said Jeeves.

“I wasn't talking to you.”

“I am, now that we're together forever, Sweetcakes,” said Belle.

“I wasn't talking to you, either.” He raised his voice. “Are you just going to sit on your ass, or are you going to give me a little help?”

“I am ethically forbidden from helping you, even when you are toiling in my service,” said the Grundy's disembodied voice.

Joe pulled out his sword and looked around for the voice's owner. Jeeves started trembling. Felina merely yawned.

“It's been seven or eight hours, and I haven't turned up a single lead,” said Mallory. “If you want her found by ring time, screw your ethical system. Hunt up a higher categorical imperative and tell me where to look.”

“You're a bright man, John Justin Mallory,” said the Grundy. “You know almost everything you need to know. You'll figure it out.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” demanded Mallory. “I don't know a goddamned thing!”

He waited for a reply, but none came.

“I just hate know-it-all demons!” he muttered.

A single amused laugh floated toward him on the cold night wind.

“What was
that
?” asked Jeeves.

“The Grundy.”

“Why are you conferring with
him
? Surely he's responsible for the theft.”

Mallory shook his head. “It's too difficult to explain, but he wants me to find Fluffy as much as you do.”

“That doesn't make any sense,” said Jeeves.

“It doesn't make any sense to a rational mortal,” said Mallory. “It makes perfect sense to a demon who considers himself a sportsman.”

“He's the most powerful demon on the East Coast,” continued Jeeves. “If he wants her found, he must know where she is.”

“He does. But he won't tell me.”

“Why not?”

“If you want my opinion,” answered Mallory, “he took too damned many philosophy courses in college.”

“Do demons
go
to college?” asked Joe. “I mean, other than to eat professors and make out with gorgeous coeds?”

“How the hell do I know?” said the detective.

“You just said—”

“Forget it.”

“Just trying to be helpful,” said the goblin.

“I know,” said Mallory. “I'm just frustrated. It's been a pretty unproductive evening.” He paused. “Well, what the hell—maybe Winnifred will have unearthed a couple of leads to the dragon.”

“Bird,” said Felina.

“No, dragon,” said Mallory.

“No,
bird!
” she repeated, her face pressed against the window of a building they were passing.

Mallory stopped to see what she was looking at and found himself staring into the interior of a wax museum. There were Errol Flynn and Douglas Fairbanks wielding swords, Gary Cooper reluctantly drawing his gun, Mae West asking Cary Grant if he was carrying a pistol in his pocket or if he was just glad to see her, Jean Harlow chewing gum and announcing to general disbelief
that she had just read a book, Marilyn Monroe breathing deeply, Bette Davis declaring that the place was a dump, and highlighted in the center were Humphrey Bogart, Peter Lorre, and Sydney Greenstreet, all gathered around a table and examining the Maltese Falcon.

“I want it!” said Felina, rushing into the museum.

“Hey, mister,” said the doorman, who looked exactly like Lionel Barrymore, “get your cat out of here or pay me twenty-five cents for her admission.”

“Only a quarter?” said Mallory.

“Raised our prices in 1946. No one's told us to raise 'em again.”

“Here's a dollar for the three of us and the cat-girl,” said Mallory, handing him a bill.

“Thanks, mister,” said the doorman. “It gets mighty lonely around here. These days everyone wants Brad Pitt and Julia Roberts and Leonardo whatever-the-hell-his-name-is. Tradition doesn't mean anything to them anymore.”

“Maybe it'll come back.”

The doorman shook his head. “Not a chance. They even tore down Yankee Stadium. Nothing's sacred these days.”

Mallory couldn't think of anything comforting to say, so he simply entered the museum, followed by Joe and Jeeves. Felina, crouching and silent, was stalking the falcon. She was just about to pounce when Bogart suddenly looked up.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you, sister,” he said with a slight lisp.

Felina drew back and hissed at him.

“Hey, fella,” Bogart said to Mallory, “if you can't control your woman, get her out of here.”

“She's not exactly a woman and she's not exactly mine,” replied Mallory.

“Good!” said Belle. “Hold that thought.”

Bogart turned to Felina and pulled a revolver out of his pocket. “You touch the dingus, sister, and I'll ventilate you.”

“No!” said Lorre's high nasal voice. “Let
me
!”

“Felina, get away from there,” said Mallory. “It's not real anyway.”

“Yes it is,” she insisted. “It's a big black bird.”

“It's a phony,” said Mallory.

“A phony?” laughed Greenstreet. “By gad, sir, you are a card! Do you know how many years it took me to get my hands on this bird, how many men I had to cheat out of it? A phony indeed!”

“I hate to disillusion you,” said Mallory, “but the bird is just lead.”

“And why should we believe you?” demanded Lorre. “You just want to cut yourself in!” He pulled a knife out of his pocket. “If there's any cutting to do…”

“Don't kill him,” said Bogart.

“Why not?” asked Lorre.

“We need a fall guy. He looks like he fits the frame.”

“You don't want me,” said Mallory. “I'm a shamus, just like you.”

“Yeah?” said Bogart with a slight grimace. “You know, I'm in the market for a new partner.”

“Some other time, perhaps,” said Mallory. “I'm after a dragon at the moment.”

“It could be worse,” said Greenstreet jovially. “The dragon could be after you.”

“Not this one,” said Mallory. “It's as small as the falcon.”

“Bring it by,” said Bogart. “If you're right about the dingus, maybe the stuff's hidden under the dragon's skin.”

“The dragon has a prior commitment,” said Mallory.

“Well, think about it,” said Bogart. “And about hiring on as my partner. The last one got himself shot.”

“Too bad,” said Mallory.

“When a man's partner is killed, he's supposed to do something about it,” continued Bogart.

“You're sending the girl over, right?” asked Mallory.

“A honey like that?” said Bogart. “You've got to be kidding! What I'm doing about it is hiring another partner.”

“
I'm
available starting a week from Tuesday,” offered Joe.

“Come by then,” said Bogart. “We'll talk.”

The three men went back to examining the falcon, and Mallory began looking around the museum. There was no Indiana Jones, but he spotted Jones's predecessor, Charlton Heston, in leather jacket, khaki pants, and battered fedora from
Secret of the Incas.
There was no
Star Trek
or
Star Wars
either,
but off in a corner Walter Pidgeon was being menaced by his id in
Forbidden Planet.
Elsewhere Clark Gable seemed just on the verge of telling Vivien Leigh that he didn't give a damn.

“So where are Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland?” asked Mallory of no one on particular.

“They're preparing a musical in the old barn,” said Marjorie Main.

“Oh, my God—another one?” complained W. C. Fields.

Suddenly Mallory was momentarily blinded by a flashlight.

“Quick, Watson!” said Basil Rathbone, shining the light in the darkest area of the museum. “The game's afoot!”

“No,” said Fields. “The game's at Ebbets Field. A foot is what's at the end of your leg.”

Mallory looked around for Felina. “Now where the hell did she go?” he muttered.

“Not another step, pilgrim!” said a masculine voice, and Mallory turned to see John Wayne throwing a protective arm around Felina, who was struggling to get loose.

“She doesn't belong to you,” said Clint Eastwood, wearing a pancho and smoking a small bent cigar.

“I'm a man of few words, pilgrim,” said Wayne. “Walk away while you still can.”

“I'm a man of one word,” said Eastwood. “Die!”

“
Stop!
” yelled Mallory as they both went for their guns. The two figures froze. “Felina, get away from there!”

“I just wanted to see if he had anything to eat in his saddlebags,” said the cat-girl.

Mallory grabbed her by the wrist. “You stay with me. We're getting out of here.” He turned toward the door, and saw that Bogart, Lorre, and Greenstreet were still in their original positions—but now the Marx Brothers were blocking the way.

“One morning I got up early and shot a detective in my pajamas,” said Groucho. “What he was doing in my pajamas I'll never know.”

Chico nudged Mallory. “That'sa some joke, huh, boss?”

Harpo merely made a face.

“An old one but a good one,” said Mallory. “Let us pass, please.”

“I'm tired of the old ones,” said Groucho. “ Is there a town in Alabama called Tusksatighta?”

Chico sat down at a small piano.

“Señor Ravelli will now play for you,” said Groucho. “Señor, what's the first number?”

“One,” said Chico.

“And in base eight?”

“You can'ta fool me, boss,” said Chico. “They only gota four bases.”

Harpo feigned riotous laughter and honked his horn.

“You're not laughing,” said Groucho to Mallory.

“I'm not in a laughing mood,” said the detective. “If you don't mind stepping aside, we're on our way out of here.”

“Not until you laugh,” insisted Groucho.

“You want me to chop them down to size?” asked Joe, swinging his sword.

“Yes,” said a voice from the shadows.

They turned and saw a handsome, well-dressed young man.

“Who the hell are you?” said Joe.

“I think I know,” said Mallory. “Zeppo Marx, right?”

Zeppo nodded. “I was the funniest of them all. Groucho even said so in his autobiography. But I was the youngest. By the time I joined the act, all the funny parts were taken.”

“But you always got the girl,” said Groucho.

“After you three pawed her for all but the last two minutes of the film,” said Zeppo bitterly. He turned to Joe. “Go ahead, chop them to bits.”

Joe turned to Mallory with a questioning expression. “Boss?”

“Hey, that'sa
my
line,” said Chico.

“Put the sword away,” said Mallory.

“That's more like it,” said Groucho. “One laugh and you're out of here. Harpo, make him laugh.”

Harpo approached Mallory and gingerly tried to tickle his armpits. Felina hissed and showed her claws.

“You guys want to keep it quiet over there?” demanded Bogart. “We're examining the black bird here.”

“Let us by,” said Mallory. “I'm getting good and tired of this.”

“Goodness had nothing to do with it,” chimed in Mae West.

“To be or not to be, that is the question,” said Laurence Olivier from the far corner of the museum.

“Oh, God, not Shakespeare again!” muttered Groucho, and suddenly all the figures froze.

“Now,” said Mallory, leading his party out into the street. He sidestepped a sleeping drunk, two panhandlers, and a very overweight hooker. “Yeah, we're back in the real world again,” he muttered.

“Interesting place,” remarked Joe, “even if Bruce Lee wasn't there.”

“Darling?” said Belle.

“Don't call me that,” said Mallory.

“Sweetie-Pie?”

“What?” he replied irritably.

“The fat broad's calling you.”

Mallory pulled the phone out of his pocket and held it to his ear.

“Forceful,” said Belle. “I like that in a man.”

“Hello, Winnifred?” said Mallory.

“John Justin,” said Winnifred Carruthers. “I'm been trying to get through to you for the past ten minutes. I kept getting a busy signal.”

“We
were
busy,” Belle chimed in.

“Any luck?” asked Mallory.

“Nothing at this end,” said Winnifred. “How about you?”

“Zip. Where do you want to meet?”

“I suppose it makes the most sense to go back to Brody's and see if there's anything we overlooked.”

“My feelings precisely,” replied the detective. “And we can find out if anyone's made a ransom demand. How long will it take you to get there?”

“Maybe ten minutes.”

“Same here,” said Mallory. “See you then.” He examined the phone in the dim light. “How the hell do I hang up?”

“Push the button that's glowing,” said Belle.

He did so.

“
Wow!
” shrieked Belle.

“What the hell happened?” asked Mallory, staring at the phone.

“I lied to you,” said Belle. “And it was worth it!”