her you are."
Felina returned to Winnifred as the centaur, startled by Mallory's yell, came to a stop. The girl jumped lightly to the ground before fifty sets of appreciative male eyes, and Mallory walked up to her.
"Excuse me," he said. "I wonder if I might have a word with you."
"All right," she said in the most melodic voice he'd ever heard. "But I should tell you up front that I'm not a doctor."
"I never thought you were," said Mallory, surprised.
"Oh," she said. "I thought you wanted to consult with me about your palsy."
"I don't have any palsy."
"I wouldn't bet on that," she said dubiously. "You're shaking like a leaf."
"I'm just chilly," he lied.
She flashed him a smile. "I've very glad to hear it."
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is John Justin Mallory."
"What a strong, masculine name," she said. Mallory resisted the urge to bay at the moon, which he was sure wasn't out at eleven in the morning. "And I am Circe." She extended her hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you."
He took her hand and had to remind himself that it was attached to the rest of her and that sooner or later he'd have to let go of it, much as he hated the thought.
"How long have you been with Ringling and Bailey circus?" he asked.
"Five weeks next Wednesday," she said. "Why?"
"Just a routine question," he said, wondering how his throat could become so dry in such a short time. "I'm a detective."
"Like Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe?"
"More like John Justin Mallory," he answered. "My clients are Micro and Macro. I believe you know them?"
"Yes, I do," replied Circe. "Such sweet boys. I was wondering what had happened to them. Have they left the show?"
"Temporarily," said Mallory. "I'm afraid I have to ask you a rather delicate question, ma'am," he continued uneasily.
"Circe."
"Circe," he repeated. "This is a little awkward. Did you ever . . . I mean, did they . . . that is . . . ?"
"You want to know if I ever slept with them?" she asked pleasantly.
"Yes."
"They were very unique, you know," she said. "The world's tallest giant and the world's smallest midget. And they had a wonderful sense of humor. Also, no one could mix a drink like Macro. And you should have heard Micro play the nose-flute!"
"I'm sure that's all true," said Mallory. "But I need to know if you—"
"They were very attractive," said Circe.
"So you did sleep with them?"
"I went to bed with them," she said. "I don't think sleeping was ever on the agenda," she added with a giggle.
"Was this a one-night stand, or did you—"
"Oh, eight or ten times a day once we got to know one another."
"Eight or ten times a day?" he repeated, trying not to look shocked.
"They had a lot of spare time," she explained with a smile. "They didn't have to rehearse being tall or being short." She paused. "Do you have any other questions?"
"No," said Mallory. "Thank you, Circe. You've been a great help."
"I really miss them. Do you think they'll be coming back soon?"
"It's a possibility," he replied. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you. You can go back to rehearsing."
"Mr. Mallory?"
"Yes?"
"May I have my hand back now?"
"Eight or ten times a day ?" said Winnifred. "The mind boggles!" Her eyes narrowed. "I wonder if she's lying. I hope she is. I hate to think of anyone having so much fun while we're out risking life and limb."
"Somebody's been lying, all right," said Mallory with conviction, "but it isn't her."
"What now?" asked Winnifred.
"Now we confront the real culprit, and then we figure out what to do about it."
He headed off toward the locker room, followed by Winnifred and Felina.
"Guess your social security number, blood pressure, and outstanding back taxes for a dollar?" offered Madame Nadine as he passed her.
He ignored her and continued walking. When he arrived the four guards were there waiting for him.
"Go right in," said Harry the goblin with an evil grin.
"He's waiting for you," said the elf nastily.
"I hope you have a nice cemetery plot
Felina returned to Winnifred as the centaur, startled by Mallory's yell, came to a stop. The girl jumped lightly to the ground before fifty sets of appreciative male eyes, and Mallory walked up to her.
"Excuse me," he said. "I wonder if I might have a word with you."
"All right," she said in the most melodic voice he'd ever heard. "But I should tell you up front that I'm not a doctor."
"I never thought you were," said Mallory, surprised.
"Oh," she said. "I thought you wanted to consult with me about your palsy."
"I don't have any palsy."
"I wouldn't bet on that," she said dubiously. "You're shaking like a leaf."
"I'm just chilly," he lied.
She flashed him a smile. "I've very glad to hear it."
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is John Justin Mallory."
"What a strong, masculine name," she said. Mallory resisted the urge to bay at the moon, which he was sure wasn't out at eleven in the morning. "And I am Circe." She extended her hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you."
He took her hand and had to remind himself that it was attached to the rest of her and that sooner or later he'd have to let go of it, much as he hated the thought.
"How long have you been with Ringling and Bailey circus?" he asked.
"Five weeks next Wednesday," she said. "Why?"
"Just a routine question," he said, wondering how his throat could become so dry in such a short time. "I'm a detective."
"Like Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe?"
"More like John Justin Mallory," he answered. "My clients are Micro and Macro. I believe you know them?"
"Yes, I do," replied Circe. "Such sweet boys. I was wondering what had happened to them. Have they left the show?"
"Temporarily," said Mallory. "I'm afraid I have to ask you a rather delicate question, ma'am," he continued uneasily.
"Circe."
"Circe," he repeated. "This is a little awkward. Did you ever . . . I mean, did they . . . that is . . . ?"
"You want to know if I ever slept with them?" she asked pleasantly.
"Yes."
"They were very unique, you know," she said. "The world's tallest giant and the world's smallest midget. And they had a wonderful sense of humor. Also, no one could mix a drink like Macro. And you should have heard Micro play the nose-flute!"
"I'm sure that's all true," said Mallory. "But I need to know if you—"
"They were very attractive," said Circe.
"So you did sleep with them?"
"I went to bed with them," she said. "I don't think sleeping was ever on the agenda," she added with a giggle.
"Was this a one-night stand, or did you—"
"Oh, eight or ten times a day once we got to know one another."
"Eight or ten times a day?" he repeated, trying not to look shocked.
"They had a lot of spare time," she explained with a smile. "They didn't have to rehearse being tall or being short." She paused. "Do you have any other questions?"
"No," said Mallory. "Thank you, Circe. You've been a great help."
"I really miss them. Do you think they'll be coming back soon?"
"It's a possibility," he replied. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you. You can go back to rehearsing."
"Mr. Mallory?"
"Yes?"
"May I have my hand back now?"
"Eight or ten times a day ?" said Winnifred. "The mind boggles!" Her eyes narrowed. "I wonder if she's lying. I hope she is. I hate to think of anyone having so much fun while we're out risking life and limb."
"Somebody's been lying, all right," said Mallory with conviction, "but it isn't her."
"What now?" asked Winnifred.
"Now we confront the real culprit, and then we figure out what to do about it."
He headed off toward the locker room, followed by Winnifred and Felina.
"Guess your social security number, blood pressure, and outstanding back taxes for a dollar?" offered Madame Nadine as he passed her.
He ignored her and continued walking. When he arrived the four guards were there waiting for him.
"Go right in," said Harry the goblin with an evil grin.
"He's waiting for you," said the elf nastily.
"I hope you have a nice cemetery plot
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