She was a blonde — but then, they all are.

This one had something none of the others did: an actual honest-to-goodness leash. At least she was up front about it.

I almost said that out loud, but luckily she started talking first. "Mr. Valentine, I have a problem," she said in a low alto that made my spine tingle.

"Solving problems is what they pay me for," I said, grinning. I was amazed my tongue hadn't tangled; it was trying to pant, and only willpower held it in.

"It's my pet elephant," she explained.

Maybe I wasn't hearing right. "Your what?!"

"Oh, dear! You don't believe me either!"

She was about to turn on the waterworks. That’s usually time to run away, but that mink she was wearing meant money so I stuck. "Look, why don't you tell me about it," I suggested quickly, steering her to the good chair. I propped myself on the edge of the desk and waited.

"Well," she began...

* * *

Sure she was crazy but her money was good. Anyway it couldn't hurt to take a look, so I went down to the Flamingo Club and asked around. The night crew was still in bed, but Abie the cashier was there; he was always there.

"Howaya, Jack?"

"Got a problem, Abie; maybe you can help."

"Always the problems! Well, maybe I can at that. Spill."

So I told him the story: rich dame lost her pet in the crowd last night. Her pet... elephant. Abie wasn't buying it. Eventually I said, "Look, she’s the boss. She says it's an elephant, it's an elephant. You've heard of miniature poodles, right?"

He laughed and let me in.

I spoke to the cleaning crew; nobody'd seen an animal, but the kid doing the taps told me he'd heard something moving in the storage room. I borrowed a flashlight and went back.

There were cases of booze against two walls and beer kegs on a third. Over on the right were some metal racks with beer nuts, pretzels, spare glassware, and a hundred other things all stuffed in together. I poked around, saw nothing, started out — and heard a faint noise. I kept moving to the door, opened it, turned the light out, and closed it again with me inside.

I stood still in the dark for over a minute, trying to breathe silently. Go ahead; you try it when your heart's playing triphammer.

I was just about to give up when I heard it again, this time dragging something. I pointed the flash at where the sound was and turned it on — and there, by God, was an elephant!

It was pink, about eighteen inches tall. It had dragged a bag of beer nuts into the middle of the floor and was industriously working at the knot with its trunk. Poor thing had the guiltiest look on its face.

"That's right, buddy; you've been caught red-handed. Uh, -trunked," I said, chuckling, and walked forward with the leash.

Its eyes grew wider still. "Not the leash again!" it piped shrilly.

"You can talk!"

"So can you, but I don't go making a big deal out of it," said the elephant.

"How? Why? What the..."

"Who where when. I can ask questions too." He sniffed, unimpressed.

"But..." I stammered. Somehow I'd lost the initiative here. "Look, buddy: I'm on the job here. So yeah, it's the leash again; you can tell me all about it when we get back to my office."

He shuddered. "Oh, very well," he grumped, and allowed me to clip the collar on. "So undignified!"

"Button it until we get there."

"But why?" He rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine. But nobody would notice, and if they did they wouldn't believe it."

He kept quiet and walked out with me. The cleaning staff pretended they were blind, and Abie took one look and busied himself with his ledgers. It was the same when we got out on the street — but then, this is New York.

"You could be right," I muttered. He snorted and looked innocent.

I took the freight elevator up, just to be safe, and when we got to my office I locked the door behind me. Us. Then I pulled out the whisky; I was not having this conversation sober. My companion joined me for a drop.

"So. A talking elephant, huh?"

He shook his head. "I'm a Calrexian."

That did nothing for me; I said as much.

He shook his head again. "So ignorant, you humans. That's why we're here to study you. An unspoiled planet with no galactic contact whatsoever! Such an opportunity!"

"Uh huh." I wasn't sure I believed him.

"Well, if you can't trust a talking elephant, who can you trust?" he demanded.

At that, I gave in. "Fine. Only I thought you were a Cow-whatsit?"

"Calrexian."

"Yeah, that. Do they all look like you?"

"No," he said. "I'm in disguise."

I had to laugh; he looked indignant. "Go ahead! Tell someone about the talking pink elephant! They’ll send you straight to the nuthatch!"

I had to admit he had a point.

"So how'd you end up a rich lady's pet?"

He sighed. "I lost a bet," he said. "One of us had to get inside that household; her husband's the F.B.I. station chief."

"And you drew the short straw. Fine." I looked him in the eye. "You're just here to study us, right?"

"That's right. You're a protected planet, you know. Only licensed anthropologists can even set foot here."

I nodded and poured another drink.

"And you've got to go back to that house?"

He sighed. "Oh, I suppose so."

"Well, that's my job done.” I shrugged. “What the hell; I'm just a working stiff. They don't pay me to think."

The little elephant eyed me sideways. "You wouldn't give away my secret, would you?"

I laughed. "No, you were right. Who would believe me?"

Talking pink elephants. Go figure.