Free Stalking the Dragon by Mike Resnick Page A

“It's a Raquel Welch. In fact, she was my fifth grade geography teacher before she became Raquel Glubowitz.”
    â€œAre you quite through annoying us now?” asked Mallory.
    â€œHey, Mac,” said the goblin. “This is a capitalist society. I'm simply fulfilling my function.”
    â€œFulfill it with someone else,” said Mallory, starting to walk off again.
    â€œSex toys from Paris!” cried the goblin.
    Mallory turned and glared at him.
    â€œWell, sept toys, actually,” said the goblin, “but sex sounds so much better, don't you think? And this way I get to toss in the seventh toy for free.
    â€œFelina?” said Mallory.
    â€œYes, John Justin.”
    â€œIf he says another word, kill him.”
    â€œSocialist!” screamed the goblin, darting between two buildings and vanishing from sight.
    â€œAre the goblins this annoying in the Manhattan you come from?” asked Jeeves.
    â€œYes,” replied Mallory. “But we don't call them goblins back there.”
    He commenced walking again, studying the signs as he passed a row of shops, and finally came to a halt.
    â€œMadame Fatima's,” he read. “Spells, curses, hexes, and conjurations.” He shrugged. “First store in the whole block that isn't offering either cappuccino or erotic massages.”
    â€œYou didn't read the small type,” said Jeeves, pointing to it.
    â€œWell, let's get on with it,” said Mallory, reaching for the door.
    â€œAre you sure you don't want to reconsider?” asked Jeeves nervously. “After all, she's a witch.”
    â€œWho better to tell us if someone's passing Fluffy off as a familiar?” said Mallory, entering the storefront, followed by Jeeves and Felina.
    A gorgeous brunette with an hourglass figure and a revealing black satin gown emerged from a back room to greet them.
    â€œWelcome to Madame Fatima's, John Justin Mallory,” she said.
    â€œI hate her already,” whispered the cell phone.
    â€œYou've been here before,” said Jeeves to Mallory.
    â€œNever.”
    â€œThen how does she know who you are?”
    â€œMadame Fatima sees all and knows all,” replied the witch. Suddenly she frowned. “Unless it comes up muddy at Belmont. Then I'm only thirty percent accurate.” She stared at Mallory. “I intuit that you've bet on Flyaway sixty-one times in a row.” She stifled a guffaw. “You're a very slow learner.”
    â€œIt's only fitting,” offered Felina. “Flyaway's a very slow runner.”
    â€œI'm not here about horses,” said Mallory. “I'm after a dragon.”
    â€œTry the Yellow Pages,” said Madame Fatima. “I understand there are a lot of hobby breeders in Westchester.”
    â€œDon't go understanding me so fast,” said Mallory. “I'm a detective, here on a case.”
    â€œI knew that,” said Madame Fatima. He stared at her. “Sort of,” she added lamely.
    â€œA toy dragon's been stolen, and I have to find it and return it to its rightful owner by tomorrow afternoon.”
    â€œAll this fuss is because some kid lost a toy?” she demanded.
    â€œBy definition a toy dragon is a dragon that's less than twelve inches at the shoulder,” said Mallory. “This one happens to be the favorite for Eastminster.”
    â€œAh! Now I understand,” said Madame. “All I'll need is one of the dragon's scales.”
    â€œI don't have one.”
    â€œA tooth, perhaps?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAre you sure you wouldn't rather have some cappuccino and an erotic massage?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œHave you at least got a photograph?”
    Mallory produced it.
    â€œUgly little bastard, isn't he?” remarked Madame Fatima.
    â€œFluffy is absolutely beautiful!” snapped Jeeves.
    â€œFluffy?” she said, stifling another guffaw. “A dragon ?”
    â€œThe most beautiful, feminine dragon in the