"It's the only way to ensure he wins the Wonderland Wars, which I am—"
"You're not going to tell me what it is now. I get it. Just tell me why he can't win without me."
The Pillar hesitates. He looks down to his shoes and purses his lips. "You have something he wants. I don't know what it is. I might know what it does, but I'm not in the mood to tell you."
Although I have no idea what I have that the Cheshire wants, I nod. It makes sense. The Cheshire needs to make sure I am the Real Alice so he can get that mysterious thing he wants from me—whatever that is. It occurs to me that maybe that is what the Pillar is after, too. He is only helping me to get that thing.
"You see, this is why he will go to hell and back with you to make sure you are her," the Pillar elaborates. "There is no one else he thinks is the Real Alice at the moment, so there is no competition. He actually wants you to be her, so he will push you into the pits of madness like no one has ever experienced before."
"I don't mind." I take deep breath. "I need his madness."
"And why would that be?" A mix of admiration and worry flashes in his eyes, almost the same I saw on the Cheshire's.
"Because I need to know if I am the Real Alice."
"Understandable." He nods.
"I assume I don't know what it is he wants from me because I don't remember it, right?"
"I have no idea why you don't know, Alice," he says. "My intuition from the very first day is that it's you. Now, shall we not waste more time, as you have become a whining-fest yourself lately?" His tone peaks with enthusiasm. "We have a clue. A string of clues, actually. The Cheshire kills fat kids, chops off their heads, and stuffs them with Meow Muffins, then stuffs the head in a watermelon or a football. I really don't know how someone can stuff a head in watermelon, but it's a piece of art."
"These were exactly his words." I look straight at him.
"To know one's enemy is to read their mind."
"I agree. So what was the Muffin Man song all about?" I say. "He said it was a blatant clue, since we couldn't read any of the others."
"The Muffin Man rhyme definitely has to do something with Meow Muffins." The Pillar rubs his chin. "I'd presume the Muffin Man manufactures the Meow Muffins or something. But I'm not sure."
"Isn't that a well-known nursery rhyme?"
"The rhyme was first recorded in an old British manuscript," he explains. "Presumably around 1820. Some say 1862, but it's all assumptions."
"Isn't that Victorian times?" I remember the vision I had of Lewis again. It happened 1862. I can't tell the Pillar about it. Lewis told me not to tell anyone.
"It is. I know it's tempting to link the rhyme with Lewis," he says. "Sadly, I never came across the 'Muffin Man' phrase in any of Carroll's works."
"Neither have I ever heard about a Muffin Man in Wonderland," I agree.
"Let's get back to the asylum," he says. "I always have a clearer head among the Mushroomers. We need to get going before half of the country wakes up with the heads of their kids stuffed in watermelons. We have a lot of work to do."
"One last thing." I raise a finger at him.
"We don't have time, Alice." He peeks at his pocket watch.
"This is important," I insist. "I won't have anything to do with this case if you don't listen to me."
"I get it." He shakes his head. "Jack."
"How do you know?"
"He's the only one who makes your eyes go so sparkly." He rolls his eyes, not fond of the idea of love. "What about him?"
"Who is he?" I demand. "I need an answer."
The Pillar purses his lips as if he is afraid the truth could spurt out against his will.
"Look. I met him inside—"
"Inside the morgue?" The Pillar squints. "Again?"
"Yes. And like always, he saved me."
"I am not surprised."
"I tucked him in a death bag to fool the nurse and the officer so we'd leave the morgue," I say. "Outside, I discovered he wasn't there in the bag anymore."
"Don't tell me it's this miserable fellow you found." He points at the corpse, and I nod. "And I thought you began to pick up on Wonderland's nonsensical humor and brought me a sample."
"Do you know how this is possible?" I pray he has an answer. This is so important to me.
"I do." He closes his eyes for a second. What is it he knows about Jack?
"But you're not going to tell me?"
The Pillar says nothing. He glances briefly at the chauffeur then breathes back into his hookah.
"Look at me," I demand. "Is Jack a fig—"
"I will tell you who Jack is exactly when you finish this mission." He is strict, although not looking at me. I want to believe him.
"Deal." I stretch a hand across the corpse. Somehow, delaying the knowledge of Jack's identity is a relief to me, because I am so afraid there is no Jack in the first place. I wave my stretched hand again, but the Pillar isn't shaking it back.
"I prefer we don't shake hands." He looks irritated. "Germs and bacteria, Alice." He points at his gloves. "You just came out of a morgue, for Edgar Allan Poe's sake."
The rude son of a...
I take my hand back. I don't care. I need to solve the Muffin Man puzzle, stop the crimes, and maybe know if I am the Real Alice, and then my reward will be knowing who Jack is. Please, God, give me a reasonable explanation to his existence.
"You know it's not 'wee-woo,' don't you?" the Pillar says to his chauffeur with a tinge of disgust in his voice.
"Then what is it, Professor Pillar? Please help me," the chauffeur says. People driving by swear at him. Other London drivers fire back at him, saying things like "You're a nut!" and "Get your sorry ass back inside!"
"It's 'woo-wee,' not 'wee-woo,' you mousy fool!" The Pillar takes a drag and smiles at me. "Everybody knows that."
I try not to laugh and lean back, thinking of the Muffin Man puzzle. It occurred to me how crazy the journey has been. I mean, last week I met so many humans who turned out to be Wonderlanders. Who'd believe me if I told them? The thought opens a question in my mind. "Tell me, Pillar," I say in the same investigative tone he practices on me. "If Margaret Kent is the Duchess, Fabiola is the White Queen, you are the Caterpillar, and of course the Cheshire is the Cheshire, then I have to wonder how many other Wonderlanders live among us here."
"Oh, Alice," the Pillar says. "They are many, not mentioning those the Cheshire hadn't set free yet."
"I mean, Margaret Kent is a Parliament woman. Fabiola is the Vatican's most beloved nun. Does it get crazier than this?"
The Pillar leans back and smiles with beady eyes. "You have no idea."
Chapter 24
Queen's Chamber, Buckingham Palace, London
The Queen of England—yes, that Queen, whatever her name is in this mad book—awoke in the middle of night, furious and maddened, and slightly scared. She suspected an intruder had been into her chamber in the Buckingham Palace.
Of course, the Queen's chambers were immaculately secure, particularly after a thirty-one-year-old psychiatric patient had scaled a drainpipe and sauntered into her chambers a few years ago.
Tonight, laced in her expensive nightgown, she regretted sleeping alone without guards in her chamber. A few guards would have caught the intruder right away.