INSPECTOR DORMOUSE’S CAR, SOMEWHERE IN LONDON
TIME REMAINING: 22 HOURS, 11 MINUTES
W e’re waiting outside the inspector’s car, preparing to drive to meet Professor Jittery March. Now unusually alert, Inspector Dormouse is making a lot of phone calls, inside his car, trying to arrange a meeting. I don’t know what’s going on, or where the professor is locked up. Neither does the Pillar.
“How come you don’t know about Professor Jittery?” I ask him.
“I do know about him,” the Pillar whispers, so the inspector won’t hear us. “It’s just we don’t usually cross paths. Back in Wonderland, he was the Hatter’s best friend. He owned a house where the craziest tea parties took place. I also don’t know what his role is in the upcoming Wonderland Wars.”
“You mean he isn’t a Wonderland Monster?”
“Jittery?” The Pillar laughs. “I may not have known him well, but I’m sure he isn’t one. At least he wasn’t the last time I saw him.”
“Which was when?”
“A few years ago, in a famous convention where he was showing his genius architectural works,” the Pillar says. “Jittery designed most of the world’s greatest gardens, some public, some private.”
“He did?” I wonder why a talented man like him is locked away.
“You wouldn’t believe the beauty of those gardens,” the Pillar says. “He was part of a worldwide crew that designed the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew, for instance. A masterpiece. He was a major landscape consultant in the designing of the Château de Versailles gardens, and the Master of Nets Garden in Suzhou, China. Such a brilliant landscaper.”
“I don’t know about most of these gardens.”
“Just google them. You’ll love what you see,” the Pillar says. “Jittery is also a scientist. He contributed a lot in studying the Big Bang Theory at CERN in Switzerland. A highly respectable organization in their field.”
“Then why is he locked away in some high-tech asylum?”
“This is like asking why you’re locked away in the asylum—or the Muffin Man,” the Pillar says. “At some point in the future, it will be scientifically proven that the real asylum is out there, not behind bars in underground facilities. But that’s another story for another time. All I know is that Jittery was one of the few who weren’t locked away by Lewis. He is like Fabiola. Lewis Carroll released them into the real world where they could have a better life. Fabiola used to say she liked Jittery if I remember correctly. But I am sure she can’t help now.” The Pillar stops and gazes in Inspector Dormouse’s direction. “What really concerns me is this so-called high-tech asylum. I’ve never heard of it.”
“I agree,” I say. “I mean, why isn’t he just confined to the Radcliffe Lunatic Asylum?”
“I was thinking the same thing.” The Pillar taps his cane once on the floor, eyes twitching at the inspector, making his phone calls.
“Do you think we should try calling Dr. Tom Truckle?” I offer. “Maybe he can help?”
“I did.” The Pillar purses his lips. “He hung up once I mentioned Jittery. Tom’s head is buried in illegal practices, bribes, and extortion. He barely tolerates me, so I don’t expose him.”
“That’s reassuring.” I sigh.
“Bear in mind that there is a lot we don’t know about this world we’re living in, dear Alice,” the Pillar says. “There is so much secret politics, moneymaking, and monkey business concerning asylums and insanity. Most of the people in asylums aren’t as mad as you think. I said that before, but hey, it doesn’t hurt to be boring once in a while.”
“Are you talking about me?” I joke.
“Nah, you’re bananas,” he says. “I was talking about me. Contrary to common belief, I am the sanest man in the world.”
Inspector Dormouse summons us to the back of his car. We enter and close the door behind us, ready to listen.
“Look, it’s not easy.” He cranes his neck and talks to us. He has a sleeping mask wrapped around his forehead, the way people wear their sunglasses when they don’t need them. I guess he is planning to take another nap soon. The five o’clock tea nap, maybe? “To get you to meet Professor Jittery, I will risk my career. I don’t know a man who’d risk such a thing at my age.” He tries to play coy while he is the sweetest of men. “You promised I’d get the credit of catching the rabbit if you do. I need to make sure you will stick to your promise. My daughter will be proud of me. She has never been proud of me until this point.”
“I swear in the name of the Jabberwock and—”
I cut through the Pillar’s sarcasm, and say, “Trust me, Inspector Sherlock. I have no use for the credit. It’s the life of a rabbit that’s at stake here.” Have I just called him by his first name to gain his trust? I think the Pillar’s tactics are growing on me.
“Aye, young lady, I believe you. Like I said, you remind me of my daughter.”
“So how are we going to meet the famous Jittery?” the Pillar asks.
“You won’t, Mister Petmaster,” Inspector Dormouse says. “But you, Amy Watson, will.”
“But why—”
I cut through the Pillar’s disdain again. “I have a good feeling about this. You’re Sherlock, and I am Watson, your assistant,” I tell Inspector Dormouse.
Way to go, Alice. No wonder you’re supposedly majoring in Psychology at Oxford University—where you have not attended one class so far.
Inspector Dormouse chuckles. The car shakes.
“So tell me why Professor Petmaster can’t meet the March Hare,” I say.
“Like I said, I’m taking a big risk here,” the inspector says. “Jittery is a danger to society. A few men and women are secretly kept where he is. I made a few phone calls and arranged for a meeting. Since I’m one of few men in the police force allowed to meet with dangerous madmen, they agreed. Hesitantly. They only agreed when I told him his niece wishes to see him.”
“Me?”
“Yes,” Inspector Dormouse says. “I told them his niece is my only way to lure him into confessing anything about his madness.”
“They believed you?” The Pillar raises a skeptical eyebrow.
“Welcome to the real world,” Inspector Dormouse says. “No one cares about anything. Each worker in the system only cares to lift the responsibility off his shoulders. Give them a good reason and promise it’s all your fault when something goes wrong, and you’re good to go.”
“Makes sense to me,” I say. “So why aren’t we driving to meet Professor Jittery yet?”
“Because I will have to blindfold your eyes and stuff your ears with earplugs,” Inspector Dormouse says. “I’m sorry, but no one gets to know the location of the secret asylum. The Hole.”