Stalking the Unicorn: A Fable of Tonight (21 page)

"I don't follow you."

"If there were two of them, I'd find a dead leprechaun next to the trap in the morning. They're not much for sharing."

"I know this is going to seem like a silly question,” said Mallory, “but have you seen a unicorn around here this evening?"

Kris shook his head. “What are you looking for—leprechauns or unicorns?"

"One of each,” said Mallory. “Do you mind if I take a look around?"

"That's against the hotel's rules,” said Kris with a smile of anticipation that Mallory had seen in the course of a hundred previous investigations.

"Just how big a contribution to the Kristem will it take to square things with the hotel?” he asked.

"Oh, fifty bucks ought to do it."

"Don't blow it all on one horse,” said Mallory, passing him a bill.

"Not a chance,” said Kris. “This baby is earmarked for the Daily Double.” He lowered his voice. “My wife's uncle's barber says the fix is in."

"What about the Kristem?"

"The Kristem's perfect, of course,” said Kris, pocketing the bill. “But when you get hard information from an absolutely unimpeachable source..."

Mallory walked to the door and signaled Felina to bring Filthy McNasty inside.

"Well, I'll be!” exclaimed Kris as the cat-girl entered the foyer with her burden. “Your partner caught him already!"

"This isn't Gillespie,” said Mallory. He turned to the leprechaun. “But he's going to take me to Gillespie's room, isn't he?"

"That wasn't part of the deal!” snapped McNasty.

"The deal was that you'd show me where Gillespie lived,” replied Mallory.

"I did! He lives right here!"

"I don't see him."

"This is his building. That was the agreement!"

"This gentleman here,” said Mallory, indicating Kris, “has been searching the building for more than a year and hasn't found Gillespie yet."

"That's hardly my fault!"

"No, but it's not your good fortune, either,” said Mallory calmly. “It means you're going to have to take me to his room before I release you."

"Beat me, starve me, torture me, pluck out my eyes, drive bamboo splinters under my fingernails, it won't do you any good!” said McNasty defiantly. “I'll never betray a friend!"

"Felina?” said Mallory. “How would you like to beat him, starve him, torture him, pluck out his eyes, and drive splinters under his nails?"

The cat-girl licked her lips and emitted a growl of anticipation.

"On the other hand,” said McNasty hastily, “Flypaper's not actually a
friend.
Why should I suffer because
he
stole a goddamned unicorn?"

"A sage decision,” agreed Mallory.

"Imagine the nerve of that Gillespie, putting me on the spot like this!” continued McNasty, working himself into a rage. “Me, a sweet, innocent, unworldly, pacifistic, God-fearing leprechaun who never meant anyone any harm!"

"Enough,” said Mallory, and McNasty subsided. “Where's his room?"

"On the thirteenth floor,” said the leprechaun.

"He's lying,” said Kris. “We don't have a thirteenth floor."

"How many floors
do
you have?” asked Mallory.

"Sixteen,” replied Kris. “But I don't know of
any
building in New York that has a thirteenth floor. The Kringleman Arms goes right from twelve to fourteen, just like all the others."

Mallory turned to the leprechaun. “McNasty, I'm only going to ask you one more time: where does he live?"

"I already told you: on the thirteenth floor,” repeated the leprechaun stubbornly.

"I happen to have fifty dollars that says there's no thirteenth floor in this building,” said Kris, pulling out the bill Mallory had just handed him.

"You're on!” said McNasty. “Take me to the elevator!"

"Felina, you come along, too,” said Mallory, lifting up the leprechaun. “If Gillespie's actually upstairs, I may need you to spot him."

She joined the two men and McNasty in the elevator.

"Press the button for the fifteenth floor,” said the leprechaun.

Mallory did so, the ancient elevator creaked upward at a snail's pace, and a few minutes later the four of them got off, practically bumping into a rotund, white-bearded gentleman who was waiting to go down.

"Happy New Year to all!” said the bearded man, his eyes twinkling. “And to all a good night!"

"I
hate
these old geezers!” muttered Kris as the elevator took the old man down to the lobby. “They're always so damned cheerful! Don't they know Aqueduct is coming up muddy for tomorrow?"

Mallory stopped to survey his surroundings. The rug, which was actually just a runner that had been laid down along the main corridor, was faded and starting to fray at the edges, the paper was starting to peel away from the walls, and he could hear a steady dripping from a bathroom at the far end of the corridor. Most of the rooms had dusty Christmas wreaths on the doors, and on the wall next to the elevator there was a small blackboard with the message: “Only 358 shopping days until Christmas!"

"What now?” Mallory asked McNasty.

"I could show you much better if you'd untie my feet,” said the leprechaun.

"I'm sure you could,” agreed Mallory. “What now?"

"The staircase."

Mallory looked around and saw a door with an EXIT sign above it.

"Is that it?” he asked Kris.

The desk clerk nodded, and the detective approached it and opened the door.

"Now climb down two flights."

Mallory led the way, and a few moments later they were facing a door that bore the numeral 12.

"That'll be fifty dollars, please!” said Kris triumphantly.

"Go fuck yourself!” said McNasty. “We're not done yet."

"This had better not be your notion of a joke,” said the detective ominously.

"It isn't!” replied McNasty. “Now go up to the fourteenth."

"Why?"

"If you want to see where Gillespie lives, just do what I tell you!” snapped McNasty.

"And if you want to live long enough to see the sunrise, you'd better not be jerking us around,” growled Mallory, starting to sweat from his exertion. “You're no goddamned featherweight, you know."

They climbed up one flight to the fourteenth floor.

"Now down a flight, and you're there,” promised the leprechaun.

They climbed down again—but when they reached the door, it bore the numeral 13.

"What's going on here?” said Kris, frowning. “We don't have a thirteenth floor!"

"Every building does,” said McNasty smugly. “You just have to know how to get to it.” He grinned. “That'll be fifty dollars, please."

"I've been up here a thousand times and I never saw this door before!” said Kris.

"That's hardly
my
fault,” said the leprechaun. “Okay, tough guy—keep your end of the deal."

"In a couple of minutes,” said Mallory, testing the door.

"What's going on here?” demanded McNasty. “A deal's a deal!"

"I'm not going to let you loose inside the building—and if I took you outside and set you free, I don't know for a fact that I could find my way back here."

"But if Gillespie's in there he'll kill me!” protested the leprechaun.

"If you say so,” replied Mallory, opening the door.

"Are you sure you don't have any leprechaun blood in you?” muttered McNasty.

Mallory stepped through the doorway and found himself not in a corridor, but in a small, cluttered, windowless room.

"Felina?” Whispered the detective. “Is he here?"

The cat-girl shook her head. “No, the room's empty."

Mallory turned on a lamp and looked around.

There was an unmade doll's bed in a corner, with sheets that looked like they hadn't been changed in years. On a tiny table right next to it were Beta, VHS, and Umatic cassettes of
Debbie Does Dallas,
but there were no video decks of any format in the room. The floor was littered with girlie magazines, most of them opened to the centerspreads. There was an ancient dresser with all its drawers missing, a chair with the legs sawed down to half their original length, and a hot plate that was warming a pot of weak coffee. A small table held half a dozen Flash Gordon Big Little Books, perhaps two dozen fishhooks, and a long-overdue library text on the anatomy of unicorns. There were some two hundred balls of string lying around the room and sitting on shelves, each bearing a label scrawled in an unfamiliar language. A large cardboard box at the foot of the bed contained diamonds, marbles, still more fishhooks, and a red golf ball.

"So much for a pot of gold,” said Mallory. “He'd need
fifty
pots to hold all this junk."

Felina picked up a ball of string and sat down in the doorway to play with it, while the two men searched the room.

"We didn't miss him by much,” said Kris. “He's got half a cup of coffee here that's still warm."

Mallory placed McNasty on the floor and walked over to take a look.

"Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed, examining the mug.

"What is it?” asked Kris.

"The little bastard even robbed
me!
This is my New York Mets mug!"

Kris looked at it and shrugged. “Are you sure? All those sports team cups look alike. You can buy ‘em in any supermarket."

"I'm sure,” said Mallory. “I broke the handle off a few weeks ago and glued it back on."

"You're not the only guy ever to glue a mug together.",

"But it was missing a piece, so I used a section of a cigarette filter to make it fit,” said Mallory, pointing to the filter. “I'll be damned! I wonder what else he swiped from me?"

"What have you got that's worth stealing?"

"Not much,” admitted Mallory. He began walking around the room. “See if you can find anything like a map of the city, or something with an address scribbled on it."

"Hurry up, you guys!” hollered McNasty. “I've got to get back to Bubbles Malone!"

"Shut up,” said Mallory. He stopped in front of an old desk that was covered by mail-order lingerie catalogs and began opening the drawers. One was filled with flashy tie clips, cuff links, and cigarette lighters, some of them quite expensive, all of them obviously stolen; another contained ten more balls of string; a third held two sapphire rings, a hard-boiled egg, and a broken Rubik's cube; and the fourth and final drawer had blank stationery from twenty of Manhattan's finest hotels, plus a pile of canceled three-cent stamps.

Next Mallory opened a small trunk, which contained some fifty hand-knitted argyle socks, no two of them identical. All were far too large for a leprechaun, and it was obvious that he had stolen them from fifty different pairs.

"I've found an address book, if that means anything to you,” announced Kris, who had been rummaging under the bed.

"Good!” said Mallory, walking over to him. “Let me see it."

He opened the book and began thumbing through it. There were only six names—Bubbles, Cuddles, Dimples, Freckles, and two Velmas. Each name had some graphic notation scribbled after it; two said “Big boobs!” three more said “Great knockers!” and one of the Velmas had “Fantastic jugs!” leaving Mallory to wonder which description ranked higher on Gillespie's 10-scale. There were no last names, no addresses, and no phone numbers. Mallory went over it again, thumbing through it page by page to make sure he hadn't missed anything, then tossed it onto the bed.

"No good, huh?” asked Kris, looking up from a pile of girlie magazines he was reappropriating. Suddenly he bent down. “What's this?"

"What have you got there?” asked Mallory.

The desk clerk straightened up and held out a leather strap. “Looks like a leather dog leash to me."

Mallory took it from him and examined it, frowning.

"Felina?” he said at last.

The cat-girl looked up from her ball of string. “Yes?"

"Have there been any dogs in here lately?"

She sniffed the air and shook her head.

"Damn!” muttered Mallory.

"You look upset,” noted Kris.

"If this is what I think it is, I
am
upset.” Mallory put the leash in his pocket and took one last look around the room. “All right,” he said. “I've seen everything there is to see here."

He picked McNasty up and walked to the door.

"Just a minute!” said Kris. He picked up his magazines, then walked over to the cardboard box and selected a couple of diamonds. “For the Kristem,” he explained with a grin.

"That's fine by me,” said Mallory.

They returned to the stairway, climbed down to the twelfth floor, and took the elevator down to the foyer from there.

"Thanks for your help,” said Mallory as he walked to the front door.

"What about my fifty bucks?” demanded McNasty.

"We never shook on it,” said Kris.

"How could I shake on it? My hands are tied?"

Kris shrugged. “What the hell. Now that I know how to get up to Gillespie's room, what's fifty bucks?” He pulled the bill out and tucked it into the little leprechaun's pocket.

"Are you sure you can find your way back?” asked Mallory.

"Simple,” replied the desk clerk. “Fifteen, twelve, fourteen, thirteen.” He frowned. “Or was it twelve, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen?"

"It depends on the weather and the day of the week,” said McNasty with a gleeful cackle.

Mallory took the leprechaun outside, where he unbound his hands and feet.

"You've got thirty seconds, little man,” said the detective.

"To do what?” asked McNasty, hopping around and waving his arms to get some circulation back into his hands and legs.

"To get the hell out of here before I turn Felina loose."

"What are you talking about?” demanded McNasty. “You got what you wanted!"

"I don't like leprechauns."

"Are you some kind of religious maniac or something?” shrieked McNasty, starting to back away. “Everyone knows that leprechauns are God's chosen people!"

"They're also cat-people's chosen appetizers,” said Mallory meaningfully.

Filthy McNasty took one last look at Felina and then raced off at high speed, cursing all the way.

"Wait here a minute,” said Mallory to Felina. “I've got to make a phone call."

He walked back into the Kringleman Arms and phoned the Morbidium to see if Mürgenstürm had arrived. He hadn't.