"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 picked out," added the troll.
"He didn't say anything about the fat broad, though," said the leprechaun. "Maybe we'll just have a little fun with her."
Suddenly he was looking down the barrel of a .45 Magnum.
"You're a cute little fellow," said Winnifred, her finger on the trigger. "I wonder how you'd look stuffed and mounted in my den?"
"You don't want me!" said the leprechaun. "You want my brother! He's much better-looking! You could stand him on his head and grow flowers out of his nostrils."
"Oh, don't be such a sissy!" said Harry. "She's just a fat wrinkled old broad. Go up and take the gun away from her."
Suddenly the Magnum was aimed right between Harry's eyes.
"What did you call me?" asked Winnifred.
"It was a term of endearment!" cried Harry. "My wife's a fat wrinkled old broad, and I love her with a passion that knows no bounds."
"Or loyalty," put in the leprechaun.
"You shut up!" snapped Harry. "You're her target! I'm just a distraction."
The elf looked at his bare wrist. "My, my," he said. "Eleven twenty-six and forty seconds already. Time for me to clock out."
"What are you talking about?" demanded the leprechaun. "We don't punch a clock!"
"I have three personal days and two weeks of vacation coming to me," said the elf stubbornly. "I'm taking them right now."
The troll sidled over to Mallory. "Pathetic, aren't they?" he said. "They just don't know how to deal with new situations."
"How would you deal with it?" asked Mallory.
"Easy," said the troll. He pulled out a five-dollar bill and slipped it to Mallory. "When you go in to see the boss, tell him we scared the shit out of you."
Mallory returned the bill. "I don't think so."
"What kind of demented fiend won't accept an honestly-offered bribe?" demanded the troll.
"A fiend who's getting tired of trolls, elves, goblins and leprechauns," said Mallory.
"Did you hear that?" shrieked the troll. "Tired of us? You're sick, Mallory! Sick! I'll see you later!"
He started walking away.
"Where do you think you're going?" asked Winnifred.
"To file a complaint with the union," said the troll.
"I'd better go with you," said the leprechaun, quickly joining him. "They may want corroborative testimony."
"Good point!" chimed in the elf, falling into step. "I'll support both of your stories."
"What about you?" Mallory asked Harry the goblin.
"I'm just a spear carrier in the vast tapestry of the fat old broad's life," replied the goblin with a sudden show of confidence. "She doesn't care about me."
"What makes you think so?" asked Winnifred, lining him up in her sights.
"Mallory, tell her it's not sporting to shoot someone with glasses!"
"You're not wearing any glasses," said Winnifred.
"I left them at home," said Harry. "But if I'd known what kind of tempers you fat old broads had, I'd have worn them to work."
"Get out of here," said Winnifred.
"No offense intended," said Harry quickly.
"Now!" said Winnifred, firing a shot into the concrete just in front of his feet.
Harry proceeded to run the fastest fifty yards on record, and was threatening Secretariat's time for the mile and a half when he raced out of sight.
Mallory turned to Felina. "Thanks for your help," he said