“What’s with all the cruelty Wonderland Monsters have toward animals?”

“Almost everyone in Carroll’s book is an animal, Alice,” the Pillar remarks. “I’m one, if you haven’t noticed.”

Of course, he’s not an animal. Or is he?

“So that’s why there is no corpse. We’re supposed to chase a loose rabbit with a bomb this time?” I change the subject. What, and who, the Pillar is isn’t something I want to delve into now. I am just happy to be out there, using my legs and away from the asylum.

“Could be.”

“Some kind of wicked Wonderland Monster terrorism attack?”

“I assume so.” The Pillar is still fascinated by the ring.

“Why do you seem to have doubts about all of this?” I say. “A bomb inside a rabbit is meant to brutally explode somewhere in London. I can’t see it any other way.”

“If I’m a terrorist with a bomb, I’d let it just explode wherever I want it to explode.” The Pillar squints, still staring at the ring in the middle. “Why let a rabbit loose? Whoever this Wonderland Monster is, he has a mysterious plan I can’t put my finger on.”

Chapter 3

Sunday, 8:24 a.m.

When 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 a 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.

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.”