SUNDAY, 8:24 A.M.
W hen I think about it, the Pillar’s assumption makes sense. A rabbit with a bomb, let alone how unethical it is, might be meant to stir panic all over the city for some reason or another. I try to figure out what’s going on, but I know very little about the situation. “Are you saying this is meant for me and you again, a message from a Wonderland Monster?”
“It’s hard to tell. The Wonderland Monsters work in nonsensical ways.” The Pillar stops before the ring, not willing to step inside for some reason. What’s so important about the sand inside?
“At least we know he is the Mad Hatter this time.”
“That’s who he claims to be.” The Pillar kneels down, thoroughly inspecting the empty ring. “Still, something isn’t quite right here.”
“The sand?”
The Pillar nods and stands up again. “But I’m not sure yet.” He looks at me as if he is seeing me for the first time. “What’s up with all your bruises? Had a fight with Waltraud?"
“Nah, it’s None Fu.” I swallow the word. “I was training.”
“Does it say to try to kill yourself and stick a carrot in your behind in the book?”
“Of course not! There are certain moves, similar to karate, that are supposed to work, but I end up falling on my hips or hitting the wall.” I try to sound casual, but I am utterly embarrassed. Even to the Pillar, this None Fu thing seems off the rocker. “I’ll have to keep doing this until it works."
“You know, only insane people do the same thing over and over again, expecting the same results, over and over again , right?”
“What’s so wrong with insane people?” A half-smile surfaces on my lips.
“Nothing.” The Pillar smiles. “They can do whatever they want... and that is the fun of it.”
Suddenly, a noise interrupts us.
Someone is snoring in the tiers behind me. I turn around and see a man in his fifties, sitting with his neck resting on his shoulder. He is wearing a long brown duster and is sleeping on the bank in the highest row in the back. I turn back and shoot the Pillar an inquisitive look.
“Nothing to worry about. That’s Chief Inspector Dormouse,” the Pillar says. “Sherlock Dormouse.” He raises one eyebrow and shields his mouth with one gloved hand.
“You’re kidding, right?” I follow the Pillar as he climbs up toward the sleeping inspector.
“I’m not kidding , Alice.” The Pillar rolls his eyes. “You sound overly American; you know that?” He steps right over Inspector Dormouse, who is still snoring rhythmically, his chest rising and falling, and his lips clapping. “So you can tell he’s very enthusiastic about the case,” the Pillar remarks.
“Dormouse?” I say. “Is he a Wonderlander? The Dormouse?”
“Haven’t seen him before.” The Pillar shakes his shoulders. “His first name is Sherlock. The man is certainly a mystery. The officers outside say he’s been chief inspector for ten years. Never solved a case, yet he gets to keep his job—I love Britain. A talented sleeper, I must admit.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” I mumble. “I mean, a police officer asleep at the crime scene?”
“There are politicians asleep at their desks, doctors at the operating table, and irresponsible parents drunk at the wheel,” the Pillar says, amusing himself. “I’d say this man isn’t that guilty. There is no real crime scene here, after all. We’re just looking for a missing rabbit.” The Pillar knocks his cane hard against the floor. “Let’s see if the inspector can be of any help.”
Inspector Dormouse flips awake, rubbing his beady eyes.