by Mike Resnick
“I won't forget.”
“I hate to rush off, but we still have a dragon to track down,” said Mallory.
“Good luck,” said Grazi.
“We're going to need it. We're running short on time.”
Mallory, Winnifred, and Felina went down the stairs and walked to the front door.
“Nothing's come or gone through here, right?” said Mallory as they approached Dugan.
“Right,” said Dugan. “I obeyed your orders, and sent them out the back way.”
“Explain!” snapped Mallory.
“You said nothing could leave through the front door, so when they tried, I stopped them and told them they had to use the servants’ door in the kitchen.”
“Told who?”
“The man with the dragon,” answered Dugan.
“I don't suppose the man told you where he was going?”
“Yes, he did,” said the zombie.
“Where?” demanded Mallory.
“Out,” replied Dugan.
Mallory glared at him for a long moment. “You don't know how lucky you are that you're already dead,” he said at last.
CHAPTER 26
9:02 AM–9:23 AM
Mallory walked out the front of the Grazi mansion, but couldn't see any sign of Brody and the dragon. He buttoned his coat against the frigid morning wind. Then, on a hunch, he walked to the alley behind the house, followed by the rest of his team.
“What's that down there?” asked Winnifred, pointing at a spot half a block away.
“Your eyes are sharper than mine,” said Mallory. “All I see is a big lump, like a bundle that fell off a truck.”
“I think it's moving,” said Winnifred.
“He's trying to sit up,” said Felina with an amused giggle. “But he's too fat.”
Mallory broke into a run, Felina at his side, and they reached Gently Gently Dawkins a moment later. He took one arm, Felina the other, and they pulled the man to his feet.
“What the hell happened?” demanded the detective, as Winnifred and Dugan caught up with him.
“Thank goodness you came!” said Dawkins. “I was afraid I was going to have to lay there all day. Fortunately, I had some candy in my pocket so I didn't starve to death.”
“You didn't answer my question.”
“It was the strangest thing,” said Dawkins. “I left the mansion, and went up to the corner, and bought a doughnut and a few cheese Danishes and a foot-long hot dog with relish, mustard, onions, ketchup, and cheese to comfort myself and calm my nerves, and I figured if I came back the same way I left I wouldn't finish eating by the time I arrived, so I went the long way, through the alley.” He paused, frowning. “There I was, minding my own business, gnawing on my last Danish and not bothering anyone, and this strange-looking man came racing up the alley carrying something under his arm. I figured he'd run around me, but he was so busy looking behind him that I don't think he even saw me until we collided.”
“Strange-looking in what way?” demanded Mallory.
“Believe it or not, he had horns growing out of his head,” said Dawkins. “Isn't that the weirdest thing?”
“And what was he carrying under his arm?”
Dawkins shrugged. “I don't know. Something green.”
“Do you remember which way he went?” asked Mallory.
“Which way am I facing?”
“South.”
“He went north,” said Dawkins.
“Did he say anything?” asked Winnifred.
“I think he said ‘Oof!’”
“And you have no idea who it was, have you?” asked Mallory disgustedly.
“Just that he was a funny-looking man in a hurry.”
“Joe Enlai is looking better and better.”
“You're not thinking this through, Studmuffin,” said Belle.
“Another quarter heard from,” muttered Mallory. “All right—enlighten me.”
“He knows you're after him,” said Belle. “He barely got out of your office ahead of you, and he was still in the mansion when you arrived, so it's clear you're gaining on him—and he can't know that Dawkins wouldn't be bright enough to recognize him…”
“Recognize who?” asked Dawkins.
“He needs a place to hole up, and he needs it fast. For all he knows, you're less than a minute behind him, and you're not encumbered by a dragon.”
“You know, she makes sense,” said Winnifred.
“Go on,” said Mallory.
“I'd check every hotel in the next block, and see which ones allow pets. When you find one that does, see who's registered in the last five minutes, and there you have it.”
“Not bad,” said Mallory.
“I can call ahead and eliminate the ones that won't allow dragons. Maybe I can even find a hotel that just accepted one.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“It's stuffy in here.”
Mallory pulled the phone out of his pocket. “Better?”
“Now touch my buttons.”
“Just make the calls.”
“Fair is fair,” said Belle. “First the buttons.”
Mallory quickly hit each button in sequence and tried to ignore the earsplitting squeal after each one.
“Oh my God!” breathed Belle. “I never knew it could be like this!”
“The calls?”
“Right, Honey,” she said as Mallory and his party began walking north through the alley.
By the time they reached the next street, Belle had eliminated the three nearest hotels. As they were crossing it and a light snow began falling, she announced that the closest hotel that accepted pets was the Dunn Inn, half a block away.
“Has anyone arrived in the last five minutes?” asked Mallory.
“Three guests.”
“You'd think people would be checking out at nine in the morning, not checking in.”
“Life is full of surprises,” said Belle. “After all, look at us.”
“I'm trying not to,” said Mallory, replacing the phone in his breast pocket.
“Our hearts are beating in unison!” announced Belle.
“You don't have a heart,” said Mallory.
“Certainly I do, despite your callous attempts to break it.”
“I see it up ahead, John Justin,” said Winnifred, pointing to a ramshackle hotel that had seen better decades.
They headed toward it, passing three other hotels—those that didn't accept pets—along the way. As they entered, Mallory surveyed his surroundings: a threadbare carpet, a few wooden chairs that any antiques dealer would label “distressed,” one leather couch with cracks in the leather, and an unimposing front desk with a bored-looking middle-aged clerk behind the counter.
The detective turned to Dawkins. “Can you recognize the guy who knocked you down if you see him again?”
“Yes.”
“Even without his dragon?”
“What dragon?” asked Dawkins.
“Never mind. If you see him, point him out to Dugan.” Mallory paused.
“Dugan, once Dawkins identifies him, your job is to make sure he doesn't leave the hotel. Got it?”
“Yes,” said the zombie.
“Can this wait a minute?” asked Dawkins.
“This is a hell of a time to go to the bathroom,” said Mallory.
“Not the bathroom,” Dawkins corrected him. “The candy counter in the gift shop.”
“One minute, no more,” said Mallory. He approached the hotel desk. “Excuse me, but has someone name Brody checked in recently?”
The clerk checked the registration book. “Nope. Got an N. Feratu from Transylvania. Came with a big wooden suitcase.”
“No, that's not the one.”
The clerk continued checking the book. “Igor and the Graverobbers just took out their usual suite.”
“Igor and the Graverobbers?” repeated Winnifred, frowning.
“A rock band,” explained the clerk. “They get a little raucous aft
er a concert. Just silly childish pranks like setting fire to the draperies, throwing the furniture out the window, and playing host to ten or twelve underaged girls. They usually get thrown out of the Plaza by four in the morning, the Waldorf by six, and the Leamington by eight. I guess they weren't as noisy and destructive as usual; the Leamington let them stay until a quarter to nine.”
“And the third room?” asked Mallory.
“A Mr. Earp.”
“Wyatt?”
The clerk nodded an affirmative. “Yes, sir.”
“What's his room number?”
“I can't reveal that information, sir.”
Mallory pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “Even for a consideration?”
The clerk shook his head. “Regulations are regulations.”
“Felina?” said Mallory, and the cat-girl approached the desk. “Say hello to the nice man.”
Felina held up a hand. Suddenly, one after the other, each finger sprouted a two-inch claw.
“I'm afraid I can't reveal our address to the hospital after she removes your face,” said Mallory. “But regulations are regulations.”
“Room 751, sir,” said the clerk hastily.
“Thanks.”
“And the consideration, sir?”
Mallory shrugged. “What the hell,” he said, laying it on the counter.
“Thank you, sir. And may I offer a word of advice?”
“I'm all ears.”
“I am certain that your business with Mr. Earp is totally legitimate and aboveboard, but if it can in any way be subject to misinterpretation and you and your party have to leave in haste, there's a service elevator at the far end of the building. It will let you off near an entrance that's reserved for deliveries—laundry, food for the coffee shop, and of course the Gravediggers’ young friends.”
“That's very thoughtful of you, young man,” said Winnifred.
“And if anyone should happen by and ask who paid Mr. Earp a visit, what shall I tell them?” asked the clerk.
The trace of a smile played across Mallory's mouth. “Tell them it was the Clanton Gang,” he said. “And we're really pissed off because of the O.K. Corral.”
The clerk wrote it down on a piece of note paper. “All right, Mr. Gang. And good luck.”
“Thanks,” said Mallory, heading off toward an elevator. “We could use a little.”
CHAPTER 27
9:23 AM–10:09 AM
The elevator had a poster for Madam Rochefort's All-Night Tarot-Reading Service. Another announced that this was your last week to catch Igor and the Graverobbers before they went on the road, to be replaced by Vlad and the Impalers, and there was also a scrawled message on notebook paper offering fifteen dollars for the return of a magic wand that answered to the name of Cedric.
Mallory and his crew took the elevator to the seventh floor. They emerged into a corridor with a carpet that had seen better days, tried to ignore the musty odor that assailed their nostrils, and began walking toward room 751.
“Dugan,” whispered Mallory, “go to the service elevator”—he pointed to it—“and if the guy you saw at Grazi's place makes a break for it carrying a dragon under his arm, don't let him pass. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Dugan, heading off to the service elevator.
“Felina, go to the main bank of elevators with Dawkins. If Brody tries to escape, stop him.”
“For a parakeet, three angelfish, and a dry buffalo.”
“A dry buffalo?” Mallory repeated.
“I don't like water buffaloes.”
“We'll negotiate later. Just make sure you don't let the dragon get by you.” She gave him a huge feline smile. “And don't hurt it.”
“You never let me have any fun.”
“We all have a function in life,” answered Mallory dryly. “Mine is to never let you have any fun.”
“What's mine?” asked Felina.
“To do exactly what I tell you.”
“Oh,” replied Felina, evidently satisfied with his answer. She and Dawkins walked back to the elevators, and Mallory turned to Winnifred. “You ready?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “Seven floors is too high to jump, and I checked: The fire escape is on the far side of the building. So he's going to have to let us in.”
“When I nod,” said Mallory, “I want you to giggle.”
“Giggle?” repeated Winnifred.
“Right,” said Mallory. “High-pitched and feminine.”
“I don't giggle,” said Winnifred.
“I do,” Belle cooed.
“Good,” said Winnifred. “I haven't giggled since I was a child.”
“I'll take care of the giggling,” said Belle. “You shoot anyone who threatens Cuddles, here.”
“It's a deal,” said Winnifred.
“Are we satisfied with the division of labor now?” whispered Mallory with a sardonic grimace. “Can I get this show on the road?”
Winnifred nodded, and Belle whispered, “Ready when you are, Sweetie.”
Mallory knocked on the door.
“Who's there?” said Brody's voice.
“Room service.”
“I didn't order anything from room service.”
“Gift from the management,” said Mallory. “I think you'll like it.”
“Now,” he whispered, and Belle began giggling.
“Blonde, redhead, or brunette?” asked Brody.
“That's for you to discover, sir.”
The door slowly cracked open, and as it did so, Mallory and Winnifred threw their entire weight against it. Brody grunted in surprise and fell across the room as Mallory and Winnifred stumbled through the doorway.
“Shut the door,” said Mallory. “We don't want Fluffy running off.”
Winnifred closed the door while Mallory looked around the room for the dragon. There was a bed with a sagging mattress and a patched bedspread, a scarred nightstand with a cheap lamp, a beat-up desk and chair, and a black-and-white television with a twelve-inch screen.
“All right,” said the detective at last. “Where have you stashed her?”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” said Brody. “You're supposed to be searching for my dragon, not harassing me.”
Mallory walked over to a dresser, opened the top drawer, then the second, and finally found what he wanted.
“Here, Fluffy!” he said, taking an elephant-shaped chocolate marshmallow cookie out of the drawer and tossing it on the floor in the middle of the room. A small green dragon shot out from beneath the bed and greedily gobbled it up, then began backing up toward the bed again.
“Why, she's adorable!” said Winnifred, staring at the little dragon.
“I guess she wasn't as lost as you thought,” said Mallory to Brody.
“What's the price for you to go away and forget this?” asked Brody.
“Oh, twice what you're going to make from all your bets on Carmelita ought to do it,” said Mallory.
“What!” demanded Brody.
“Of course, we'll want a little more than that not to tell Harry the Book and Hot Horse Hennigan and other select members of their profession where you're hiding.”
“Out of the question!” snapped Brody.
“I thought it might be,” said Mallory. “I guess we'll just have to fulfill our contract and deliver Fluffy to Eastminster by ring time.”
“Look,” said Brody desperately, “there's a lot of money involved, more than I think you can imagine. I'll give you and your partner half of my winnings if you'll just let me and Fluffy hide here until tonight.”
“I'm afraid not,” said Mallory. “The Grundy's already paying us double what you offered.”
Brody frowned. “To keep Fluffy out of the ring?”
“To deliver her,” said Mallory. “He's a sportsman. Or a sportsdemon, if you prefer.”
“And now, Mr. Brody,” said Winnifred, “you can come peacefully, or you can come forcibly, but you are coming, and so is your dragon.�
��
“All right, all right,” said Brody with a sigh. “Let me get her leash.”
He walked to the closet, reached in, and suddenly he had a wicked-looking gun in his hand.
“I'm sorry, Fluffy,” he said, aiming it at the dragon. “But I can't let you get into the ring.”
A shot rang out. Mallory expected the dragon to keel over, but instead Brody's gun flew against the wall and he yelped in pain and surprise.
“That was foolish, Mr. Brody,” said Winnifred, her Magnum in her hand.
“Please don't try anything like that again.”
“You shot me!” he said accusingly.
“You're remarkably observant,” she said with a sweet smile.
“I can't believe it!” he said, pulling out a handkerchief and wrapping it around his hand, where a trickle of blood was beginning to appear. “You actually shot me!”
“I shot your gun,” said Winnifred.
“You shot me! I'm bleeding!” He glared furiously at her. “I'm a person! I was only going to shoot a dragon.”
“A dragon that's worth considerably more than you are,” she said.
“I love that dragon!” he said. “It was a business decision.”
“And it was a business decision on my part to keep the dragon alive,” replied Winnifred.
“Mr. Mallory,” said Brody, “you have a bloodthirsty fiend for a partner.”
“But an honest bloodthirsty fiend,” said Mallory.
“What are you complaining about?” demanded Brody. “You were well paid.”
“You used us as a cover for your scam,” said Mallory, “and we resent it.”
“I gave you five thousand dollars for less than twenty-four hours of your time.”
“You gave us one thousand dollars with the rest due when we found and delivered Fluffy,” said Mallory. “The way I see it, you owe us the other four thousand right now.”
“I haven't got it,” said Brody. He held up his right hand. “I give you my word of honor as a gentleman.” Mallory could hear Belle chuckle at that. “All my money is in the hands of the bookies.”
“Then I guess we'll keep Fluffy until you come up with the cash. I suppose we might as well take her to the Garden while we're waiting.”
“But if you take her there, everyone will know what I tried to pull,” whined Brody, starting to pace nervously back and forth. “My life won't be worth a plugged nickel.”