"So Margaret Kent knows about Wonderland, and hires its monsters to do her dirty work?"
"Genius, isn't it?" the Pillar says, the pipe tucked in the corner of his mouth. "You get to hire someone like the Cheshire who in the public eye is just a silly cat in a book, and then get away with it. If someone tries to expose you, he will be laughed at because, let's face it, Wonderland can't be real."
"Why is the Cheshire Cat doing it? You said it wasn’t like him to go on a killing spree."
"Even a cat has to make a living,” the Pillar says. “The money is good, and he has some kind of a grudge against humanity. Maybe someone stepped on his tail or something. Who knows?"
“So Margaret Kent paid him to kill the girls?"
“It’s unlikely. Who’d pay to kill young girls? Besides, he wouldn’t be playing games and puzzles with us, if he were being paid. Margaret’s jobs are swift. She wants to get off with her enemies’ heads."
"So how are we going to make Mrs. Kent tell us anything about the Cheshire?” I say. “Is it even possible we could meet such an important woman in the first place?"
The Pillar turns to me with that shimmering look in his eyes again. "It depends.”
"On?"
"Tell me, Alice,” he rubs something off his trousers. “On a scale from one to insanity, how insane are you?"
I get the feeling that the Pillar and I are about to do some crazy things.
Chapter 36
Director's office, Radcliffe Asylum
"I'm not going to do that!" Tom Truckle protests. He fidgets in his place, and reaches for his pills from the drawer.
The Pillar and I sit opposite to him in his office. We exchange looks, while we’re on the verge of bursting into laughter. I have to admit that spending time with the Pillar has taught me to just let go and give in to all the madness in the world.
"I am not asking much," I tell Truckle. "I just want a Certificate of Insanity."
"There is no such thing," Truckle gulps water to let the pill slide down. "And even if there is, I just can't do it. This is insane. You are insane."
"See, that's why I want a Certificate of Insanity," I am doing my best not to giggle.
"Please, Tommy," the Pillar rests his hands on his cane. "We’ve got work to do, and you're stalling."
"You are insane as well," Truckle says.
"Thank you, but I don't need a certificate myself. It's the poor Alice here who needs it," the Pillar sulks. "Look at her. She is so innocent." I pull my legs together and squeeze my hands between them, flapping my eyelashes and sulking all over him. I'm really enjoying this. "How else can we prove she is insane?" the Pillar adds.
"Something tells me you're going to do something mad with this certificate," Truckle is losing it. The pressure the Pillar is putting him under is unbelievable. The doctor is breaking all the rules to keep his job.
"Please don't use words like 'mad' and 'retarded.' It's really hurts." The Pillar is playing this just right. I am going to laugh until I cry when I get out.
"I didn't say ‘retarded!’" Truckle grips to his chair, face red like a tomato before explosion. "Besides, what do you want me to call you?"
"Mushroom is a good word. Right, Alice?" the Pillar looks at me.
"Yes," I blink my eyes innocently again. "Mushroom. I am a Mushroom." The Pillar nods and pats me gently. "You're a Mushroom," I address the Pillar, then turn to Dr. Truckle. "And you're a Mushroom, too."
"I'm not a Mushroom!" Dr. Truckle stands up, slamming his hands on the desk. I think he should seriously consider reporting the Pillar's escape and lose his job, or he'll end up in one of the underground wards.
"Yes you are," I push it, then stare at him as if he is sick. "You have those red spots on your face. What are those, Dr. Truckle?"
"What?" He touches his face. "What spots?"
"I think it may be chickenpox," the Pillar worsens the joke. "Mushroom pox, maybe?"
"You're messing with my head!" Dr. Truckle screams. I can see the veins pumping on his neck. "Here is your certificate," he pulls out an official paper from the drawer and signs it. “Get out!”
The Pillar cranes his head to see what Dr. Truckle is writing. "Please, Dr. Truckle. Don't write that," he protests.
Dr. Truckle looks puzzled.
"What did he write?" I stand up and stomp my feet. "Is it about me?" I fold my arms in front of me.
"He wrote," The Pillar pretends he can't bring himself to say it. "He wrote that you're 'insane in the membrane,' and 'cuckoo in the head.''"
"Did you write that?" I sneer at Dr. Truckle.
"No." Dr. Truckle waves his defensive arms. "I swear I didn't."