She points towards the door.
I draw my gun out and enter the house; that creepy corridor of red and bloody butterflies. I move along the red carpets. All those insects, all those silver pins.
“Where are you, Professor?” I shout.
I move further inside the maze. And I hear, what is that noise? A tapping, a fluttering, then I finally see. Oh God. The butterflies, all the butterflies are moving. They are alive!
And he suddenly appears from his study smiling, “How can I help you, Detective Waxford?”
“Where are they?” I point the gun at his head
“Who?” he says softly.
“YOU KNOW WHO. WHERE ARE THEY YOU FUCKING LUNATIC?!”
“Calm down, Detective.”
“Professor Hummingbird. I am taking you in for questioning.”
“Oh, you’re so dramatic,” he sighs
“THIS IS FROM THE MAN WHOSE HOME LOOKS LIKE THE LAIR OF A VILE MURDERER.”
“Tut Tut, don’t get yourself into a tizz-woz.”
“I am very happy to blow your demented brain out of your skull right here and dump you in the moat, but I need to know what you’ve done with them.”
He shrugs his shoulders
“Are they dead?”
He doesn’t answer.
“ARE THEY DEAD?” I scream in his ear.
He sticks his tongue out. A tiny green butterfly zooms out of his mouth into the endless red.
Infuriated, I march him at gun point to the pony and trap where Boo Boo is drawing a giant butterfly.
“Boo Boo, come with me,” I say, and lift her onto it. The Professor waves goodbye to his butterflies, “Toodle oooooooo.”
Professor Hummingbird questioned at Scotland Yard
The Professor’s lawyer, Cedric Evening-Star, arrives to attend the questioning
“I’m so sorry, Cedric,” Hummingbird’s voice is playful, “I really don’t understand how this has happened. I’m not sure what Detective Waxford thinks I’ve done but this is ridiculous.”
“Shut up, Hummingbird. Your adopted daughter told us that Detective White, Constable Walnut and Mr Loveheart were in your house last Sunday early morning to rescue her. That was the last time any of them were seen.”
“You mean kidnap,” he retorts.
“Explain to me what happened.”
“I was awoken sometime after two in the morning by footsteps and voices. I noticed when I got up that my prize butterfly had been removed from the wall. I went downstairs and caught sight of Detective White with Boo Boo in his arms, pushing her through a window; Constable Walnut with my butterfly in his hands and Mr Loveheart telling everyone to get out quickly because he’d placed a bomb under my bed.”
Cedric Evening-Star added, “So, kidnapping, theft and attempted murder.”
“And what happened next?”
“The bomb went off and blew up my bedroom and the entire roof of the keep.”
“And?”
“Well, there was a lot of dust in the air and debris falling about and I was confused and dizzy.”
“Where is Detective White?”
“I don’t know where any of them are. They must have escaped.”
“Why is Boo Boo still with you if they escaped?”
“She came back to me. She obviously didn’t feel safe with them.”
“Do you have the butterfly?”
He pauses for a moment. “Yes, Constable Walnut must have dropped it. I was lucky. It is priceless.”
“What total shite,” I say.
“I beg your pardon,” Cedric Evening-Star gasps.
“It’s rather convenient that Boo Boo and your butterfly are returned to you and three men missing. What did you do to them?”
“Search my house if you must, you won’t find them.”
“Not without a warrant,” adds Mr Evening-Star. “This harassment of my client will stop now.”
I leave the room to speak to Boo Boo. She is sitting in my office, waiting for me, drawing butterflies on my desk.
“Boo Boo, tell me the truth. What happened that night?”
She put her piece of chalk down and looks up at me. “Detective White carried me out of bed and put me through a window and told me to run. Then the bomb went off. I waited for them to come out. But none of them did. I ran to the village to see Mrs Charm and she made me hot chocolate. Later the Professor came to take me back to his castle.”
“Do you think they are dead?”
“No. He turned them into butterflies.”
Zedock has tea with Queen Victoria
I am escorted by a rather frail-looking servant gripping a pink frilled parasol into the gardens of the Queen. Her gardens are full of red roses. Fat heaps of fleshy petals. OPEN FOR ME. OPEN FOR ME. Show me your insides
She is surrounded by her roses. Red within red. You want to understand about power? You want to know what it is? Look at her.
SHE IS
COLLOSAL