“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.
Chapter 4
Sunday, 8:40 a.m.
“So you two are from the animal rights movement?” Inspector Dormouse rubs his eyes. He seems like a decent man to me. Hardly a Wonderland Monster. “My daughter has a hamster, a turtle, and a lizard. She loves animals.” He chuckles, rubbing his thick neck. “I hate it when they follow me to the bathroom, but I can’t break my daughter’s heart.”
Pretending we’re from the animal rights movement now makes sense to me. Otherwise, we could not have been allowed into the crime scene. As animal enthusiasts, it makes sense to look after the rabbit. Someone should care for the animal, not just humans. Ironically enough, it’s the insane who care.
“Amy Watson, my assistant, loves rabbits a lot,” the Pillar says—partially making fun of me.
I wonder if we'll be solving crimes with the police from now on. Not a bad idea. We could use some help, as long as they don’t know who we really are.
“Amy Watson has been in a rabbit hole once,” the Pillar whispers to Inspector Dormouse, then smiles broadly at me.
Unexpectedly, Inspector Dormouse doesn’t respond to that. He falls asleep while standing up. His lips ripple like a reluctant wave when he snores.
“Inspector?” I tilt my head, trying to be nice.
“Huh.” His eyes flip open again. He rubs them and yawns. “Apologies. How rude of me. Haven’t slept much lately,” he says. “Have been working twenty-four-seven since they invented the DOI.”
“DOI?” the Pillar says.
“Department of Insanity,” Inspector Dormouse says.
“Department of Insanity?” I exchange looks with the Pillar.
“Aye.” Inspector Dormouse pulls out a bottle of eye drops and uses it on his eyes. “A few years ago the police noticed a lot of crimes with an unusual insanity factor. Crimes which no one had ever heard of before; like this one, a bunny sent out with a bomb.” He chuckles again. His hands shake and he drops the liquid on his cheek. “The world has gone insane.”
“I’m glad you noticed.” The Pillar squints, but I know what he is thinking. If the police noticed the absurdity of crimes recently, then it probably has to do with the Wonderland Monsters being set loose.
“So you found any leads to the rabbit's whereabouts?" the inspector asks.
“I think we did,” the Pillar says, pointing his cane at the sand in the circle, now that he has a much better view from up here. “The Hatter’s first clue.”
I focus immediately on the ring, trying to figure out the message. Inspector Dormouse yawns, utterly perplexed.
Then I see the clue.
Someone used a stick or something and wrote a message in the sand. The letters are enormous—the Pillar couldn’t read them standing too close at the foot of the tiers. Now, we both see it clearly. It's a one-word message:
“Piccadilly?” I say.
“Is this intentional?” Inspector Dormouse scratches his head.
“It is.” The Pillar’s face looks serious. “This isn’t just about a lost rabbit with a bomb. I assume we’ll be introduced to a series of clues once we get past this one.”
“But there is no clue,” Inspector Dormouse counters. “It’s just a word. Someone’s name, probably.”
“You think it’s the Hatter’s real name?” I cut in, facing the Pillar.
“No,” the Pillar says. “The word ‘Piccadilly’ is written inside a circle. Not the ring, but the one carved with the stick around the word.”
I tiptoe and look down to grasp the whole picture. “I see it. A code? Part word and part drawing?”
The Pillar nods.