Post Time in Pink - Mike Resnick

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
//-->Posttime in Pinkby Mike Resnick*Posttime in Pink*by Mike ResnickA John Justin Mallory story--------"So who do you like in the sixth?" asked Mallory as he stuck his feet up on the desk and began browsingthrough the _Racing Form_."I haven't the slightest idea," said Winnifred Carruthers, pushing a wisp of gray hair back from her pudgyface and taking a sip of her tea. She was sitting at a table in the kitchen, browsing through the memoirs ofa unicorn hunter and trying not to think about what the two donuts she had just eaten would do to heralready-ample midriff."It's a tough one to call," mused Mallory, staring aimlessly around the magician's apartment that he andWinnifred had converted into their office. Most of the mystic paraphernalia -- the magic mirror, thecrystal ball, the wands and pentagrams -- had been removed. In their place were photos of JoeDiMaggio, Seattle Slew, a pair of Playboy centerspreads (on which Winnifred had meticulously drawnundergarments with a magic marker), and a team picture of the 1966 Green Bay Packers, which Malloryfelt gave the place much more the feel of an office and which Winnifred thought was merely in bad taste."Jumbo hasn't run since he sat on his trainer last fall, and Tantor ran off the course in his last two races towallow in the infield pond.""Don't you have anything better to do?" said Winnifred, trying to hide her irritation. "After all, we formedthe Mallory and Carruthers Agency two weeks ago, and we're still waiting for our first client.""It takes time for word to get out," replied Mallory."Then shouldn't we be out spreading the word -- after you shave and press your suit, of course?"Mallory smiled at her. "Detective agencies aren't like cars. You can't advertise a sale and wait forcustomers to come running. Someone has to need us first.""Then won't you at least stop betting next week's food money on the races?""In the absence of a desperate client, this is the only way I know of to raise money.""But you've had six losing days in a row.""I'm used to betting on horses in _my_ New York," replied Mallory defensively. "Elephants take awhileto dope out. Besides, they're running at Jamaica, and they haven't done that in my New York in 35years; I'm still working out the track bias. But," he added, "I'm starting to get the hang of it. Take TwinkleToes, for instance. Everything I read in the _Form_ led me to believe he could outrun Heavyweight at sixfurlongs.""But he didn't," noted Winnifred."Outrun Heavyweight? He certainly did.""I thought he lost.""By a nose." Mallory grimaced. "Now, how the hell was I supposed to know that his nose was two feetshorter than Heavyweight's?" He paused. "It's just a matter of stockpiling information. Next time I'll takethat into consideration.""What I am trying to say is that we can't afford too many more next times," said Winnifred. "And sinceyou're stranded here, in _this_ Manhattan, it would behoove you to start trimming your -- _our_ --expenses.""It's my only indulgence.""No it's not," said Winnifred."It's not?" repeated Mallory, puzzled."What do you call _that_, if not an indulgence?" said Winnifred, pointing to the very humanlike butdefinitely feline creature perched atop the refrigerator.Mallory shrugged. "The office cat.""This office can't afford a cat -- at least, not _this_ one. She's been drinking almost a gallon of milk a day,and the last time I went out shopping she phoned the local fishmonger and ordered a whale.""Felina," said Mallory, "is that true?"The catlike creature shook her head."Are you saying you didn't order it?" demanded Winnifred."They couldn't fit it through the doorway," answered Felina, leaping lightly to the floor, walking over toMallory, and rubbing her hip against his shoulder. "So it doesn't count.""You see?" said Winnifred, shrugging hopelessly. "She's quite beyond redemption.""This city's got nine million people in it," replied Mallory. "Only two of them didn't desert me when I wentup against the Grundy two weeks ago. You're one of them; she's the other. She stays."Winnifred sighed and went back to sipping her tea, while Felina hopped onto the desk and curled herremarkably humanlike body around Mallory's feet, purring contentedly."Do you like the Grundy?" asked Felina after a moment's silence."How can one like the most evil demon on the East Coast?" replied Mallory. "Of course," he addedthoughtfully, "he makes a lot more sense than most of the people I've met here, but that's a differentmatter.""Too bad," purred Felina."What's too bad?""It's too bad you don't like the Grundy.""Why?" asked Mallory suspiciously."Because he's on his way here.""How do you know?"Felina smiled a very catlike smile. "Cat people know things that humans can only guess at.""I don't suppose you know what he wants?" continued Mallory.Felina nodded her head. "You."Mallory was about to reply when a strange being suddenly materialized in the middle of the room. Hewas tall, a few inches over six feet, with two prominent horns protruding from his hairless head. His eyeswere a burning yellow, his nose sharp and aquiline, his teeth white and gleaming, his skin a bright red. Hisshirt and pants were of crushed velvet, his cloak satin, his collar and cuffs made of the fur of some whitepolar animal. He wore gleaming black gloves and boots, and he had two mystic rubies suspended fromhis neck on a golden chain. When he exhaled, small clouds of vapor emanated from his mouth andnostrils."We need to talk, John Justin Mallory," said the Grundy, fixing the detective with a baleful glare as Felinaarched her back and hissed at him and Winnifred backed away."Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying," answered Mallory, not bothering to take his feet off the desk."I am selling nothing," said the Grundy. "In fact, I have come as a supplicant."Mallory frowned. "A supplicant?""A client, if you will.""Why should I accept you as a client?" asked Mallory. "I don't even like you.""I need a detective," said the Grundy calmly. "It is your function in life to detect.""I thought it was my function to save people from mad dog killers like you.""I kill no dogs," said the Grundy, taking him literally. "Only people.""Well, that makes everything all right then," said Mallory sardonically."Good. Shall we get down to business?""You seem to forget that we're mortal enemies, sworn to bring about each other's downfall.""Oh, _that_," said the Grundy with a disdainful shrug."Yes, that.""The battle is all but over. I will win in the end.""What makes you think so?" said Mallory."Death _always_ wins in the end," said the demon. "But I have need of you now.""Well, I sure as hell don't have any need of you.""Perhaps not -- but you have need of _this_, do you not?" continued the Grundy, reaching into the airand producing a thick wad of bills.Mallory stared at the money for a moment, then sighed. "All right -- what's the deal?""John Justin!" said Winnifred furiously."You just said that we needed money," Mallory pointed out."Not _his_ money. It's dirty.""Between the rent, the phone bill, and the grocery bills, we won't have it long enough for any of the dirt torub off," said Mallory."Well, I won't be a party to this," said Winnifred, turning her back and walking out the front door."She'll get over it," Mallory said to the Grundy. "She just has this irrational dislike of Evil Incarnate.""You both misjudge me," said the Grundy. "I told you once: I am a fulcrum, a natural balance pointbetween this world's best and worst tendencies. Where I find order, I create chaos, and where I findchaos...""I believe I've heard this song before," said Mallory. "It didn't impress me then, either. Why don't you justtell me why you're here and let it go at that?""You have no fear of me whatsoever, do you?" asked the Grundy."Let us say that I have a healthy respect for you," replied Mallory. "I've seen you in action, remember?""And yet you meet my gaze, and your voice does not quake.""Why should my voice quake? I know that you didn't come here to kill me. If you had wanted to do that,you could have done it from your castle ... so let's get down to business."The Grundy glanced at Mallory's desk. "I see that you are a student of the _Racing Form_. That's verygood.""It is?"The demon nodded. "I have come to you with a serious problem.""It involves the _Racing Form_?""It involves Ahmed of Marsabit.""Doesn't he run a belly-dance joint over on Ninth Avenue?""He is an elephant, John Justin Mallory," said the Grundy sternly. "More to the point, he was _my_elephant until I sold him last week.""Okay, he was your elephant until you sold him," said Mallory. "So what?""I sold him for two thousand dollars.""That isn't much of a price," noted Mallory."He wasn't much of an elephant. He had lost all sixteen of his races while carrying my colors." TheGrundy paused. "Three days ago he broke a track record and won by the entire length of thehomestretch.""Even horses improve from time to time.""Not _that_ much," answered the Grundy harshly, the vapor from his nostrils turning a bright blue. "I ownthe favorite for the upcoming Quatermaine Cup. I have just found out that Ahmed's new owner hasentered him in the race." He paused, and his eyes glowed like hot coals. "Mallory, I tell you that Ahmedis incapable of the kind of performance I saw three days ago. His owner must be running a ringer -- alook-alike.""Don't they have some kind of identification system, like the lip tattoos on race horses?" asked Mallory."Each racing elephant is tattooed behind the left ear.""What's Ahmed's ID number?""831," said the Grundy. He paused. "I want you to expose this fraud before the race is run.""You're the guy with all the magical powers," said Mallory. "Why don't you do it yourself?""My magic only works against other magic," explained the Grundy. "For a crime that was committedaccording to natural law, I need a detective who is forced to conform to natural law.""Come on," said Mallory. "I've seen you wipe out hundreds of natural-law-abiding citizens who never didyou any harm. Were they all practicing magic?""No," admitted the Grundy. "But they were under the protection of my Opponent, and _he_ operatesoutside the boundaries of natural law.""But the guy who bought Ahmed isn't protected by anyone?""No.""Why don't you just kill him and the elephant and be done with it?""I may yet do so," said the Grundy. "But first I must know exactly what has happened, or sometime in thefuture it may happen again.""All right," said Mallory. "What's the name of the guy who bought Ahmed from you?""Khan," said the Grundy."Gengis?" guessed Mallory."Gengis F. X. Khan, to be exact.""He must be quite a bastard, if your Opponent doesn't feel compelled to protect him from you.""Enough talk," said the Grundy impatiently. "John Justin Mallory, will you accept my commission?""Probably," said Mallory. He paused. "For anyone else, the firm of Mallory and Carruthers charges twohundred dollars a day. For you, it's a thousand.""You are pressing your luck, Mallory," said the Grundy ominously."And you're pressing yours," shot back Mallory. "I was the only person in this Manhattan that could findyour damned unicorn after he was stolen from you, and I'm the only one who can find out what happenedto your elephant." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]