The judge’s face turned beet-red and he slammed his hammer down, angrily. “Overruled!”
“But your honor—” Robin begged.
“Why did you invite us down here if you aren’t ready for the trial?” the judge moaned.
“Sir, we didn’t invite you down here,” Little John protested.
“Well, that’s terribly rude,” the judge cried. “You put on a trial and you don’t have the common decency to invite me? Counselors, you are not getting off to a good start.”
“This guy acts like he’s lost his mind,” Sabrina said.
“He has,” Granny whispered. “He’s the Mad Hatter.”
Sabrina’s mouth fell open and she gaped at the judge in disbelief. Even she knew the story of the Mad Hatter. Alice met him at a tea party and he nearly drove the poor girl mental. He was the very definition of crazy.
“How did he get to be a judge?” Uncle Jake asked.
“I appointed him,” a woman’s voice said from behind them. Sabrina turned and found Mayor Heart sitting directly behind her. Heart’s face was painted in bone-white pancake makeup, dark ruby lipstick, and purple eye shadow that crept up to the edge of her hairline. She looked like a deranged party clown—worse, she looked like Sabrina did when she tried to put on her own makeup.
“This isn’t fair,” Sabrina seethed. “You can’t have a mental patient running a courtroom.”
“As a matter of fact, I can. You see, I’m the mayor,” Heart replied, then broke into a laugh. “Still, it doesn’t matter who I appoint to oversee this case, brat. It will end the same way. The Wolf is going to swing from a rope and then there will be no one left to protect you.”
A commotion at the front of the room turned Sabrina’s attention back to the trial. “Where is the prosecuting attorney?” Judge Hatter asked.
“I’m right here, your honor,” a man shouted as he barreled through the double doors into the courtroom. Sabrina took one look at him and cringed. She felt her sister’s hand slip into her own. This man’s beard, moustache, and hair were an unnatural shade of blue.
“Bluebeard.” Uncle Jake gasped, along with most of the others in the courtroom.
“I’m quite ready to get started if it pleases the court,” Bluebeard said as he stepped over to an empty desk and put down his briefcase. “In fact, I’m ready to call my first witness.”
Robin Hood glared at Bluebeard. “I haven’t had any time to discuss the case with my client. I haven’t interviewed any of your witnesses.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Bluebeard said. “But I have no doubt you’ll catch up. As for right now, like I said, I’m ready to call my first witness. Rather, I have three witnesses, and I’d like to call them all to the stand at the same time, if it pleases the court.”
“It might,” Hatter said, clapping like a happy child. “Call your witnesses.”
Robin pulled his partner back to the defendant’s table. Once Little John was calm, he and Robin tried to assure Mr. Canis that everything would be fine. The old man acted as if he couldn’t hear them.
“The prosecution calls the Three Little Pigs to the stand,” Bluebeard said. One of the card soldiers opened the double doors and in walked former deputies Boarman and Swineheart—two of the Three Little Pigs. They were both pear-shaped men, difficult to tell apart from a distance, but up close they had very distinct features. Jed Boarman had curly brown hair and wore glasses. He had a tiny little moustache, and he was prone to sweating profusely. His complexion was pale, even more so when walking into court, as he seemed quite nervous. His friend and business partner Alvin Swinehart had a pompadour haircut that reminded Sabrina of Elvis Presley. His long bushy sideburns and reflective sunglasses added to the resemblance. Both men were in ill-fitting suits and wearing ties. They scanned the courtroom as they entered and spotted Sabrina and her family, flashing them apologetic smiles that made Sabrina nervous. Were they going to say something that would hurt Mr. Canis’s case?
Their arrival caused a great disturbance in the courtroom, and the gallery began to chatter. The noise made Hatter bang his forehead on his desktop and shout for order. Eventually, he remembered his hammer and slammed the tool down hard on the buckling wood instead. When the room was quiet, Bluebeard approached the men.
“I was under the impression that there were three of you.”
Swineheart ran his hands through his slick black hair. “Well, there are, but we’re not attached at the hip, ya know.”
The crowd laughed until Hatter went to work with his hammer.
“So, am I to understand that Ernest Hamstead won’t be joining us? Where is your friend?”
The men suddenly changed into pigs, a metamorphosis that occurred whenever they were nervous or excited. They honked and squealed for a moment but quickly reverted back to their human forms.
“We don’t exactly know where he is,” Boarman said sheepishly. “He’s missing.”
“Missing?” Bluebeard said. “How could someone go missing in a town this small?”
Boarman shrugged.
“I suppose the two of you will do,” Bluebeard continued. “Gentlemen, will you tell us what you do for a living?”
“We’re architects,” Boarman said, “though not too long ago we were deputies for the Ferryport Landing Police Department.”
“Fascinating,” Bluebeard said. “According to the famous story of the three pigs, the three of you had a run in with the Big Bad Wolf. Is that correct?”
Boarman and Swineheart nodded.
“And if I’ve heard the story correctly, the three of you each built yourselves a home. One made a house out of straw, the other made a house of twigs, and the last—brick. Which one of you built which house?”
“I built the twig one,” Swineheart said.
“And I built the brick,” Boarman replied.
Bluebeard smiled and turned to the jury. “Now, I’m not a builder, but I know a thing or two about houses. You have to build them out of strong materials. Twigs are not going to pass building codes, but if you bribe the right official you might get away with it.”
“I never bribed anyone in my life!” Swineheart cried.
Bluebeard ignored him. “But bricks are a pretty good building material. However, very few people would choose to build a house out of straw, would they?”
Boarman and Swineheart said nothing.
“Straw would fall down at the slightest wind. Straw would fall apart at the first rain. I could break into a straw house with a lawn mower!” Bluebeard shouted, causing a large portion of the gallery to chuckle. “But I’m no architect. Perhaps there’s something to this straw house. Tell me what happened to those houses.”
Swineheart rolled his eyes impatiently. “The Wolf came along and blew two of them down. The brick house survived.”
“He blew two of these houses down! How frightening! Do you see this wolf in the courtroom today?” Bluebeard asked. He turned to face Mr. Canis and a victorious smile crept across his face.
“Nope,” said the pigs.
Bluebeard’s face fell. “I’m sorry, gentlemen,” he said. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me correctly. I asked the two of you if either of you saw the Wolf in the courtroom.”
“We know,” Boarman said. “The answer was no.”
Sabrina’s head was swimming with questions. She knew the story of the pigs well. She also knew that Mr. Canis had been the one to destroy their homes. Were the pigs lying for him?
“You don’t see the Wolf?” Bluebeard asked as he pointed at Mr. Canis.
Swineheart puffed up his chest and grinned. “That ain’t the Wolf. That’s a fellow we know by the name of Mr. Canis.”
“Don’t play games with me!” Bluebeard bellowed and slammed his fist down on this table. “The Wolf and Mr. Canis are the same person.”
“No, you’re wrong,” Boarman added. “They aren’t the same person. Mr. Canis is the man; the Wolf is a monster locked up inside him. If you put Mr. Canis on trial for crimes the Wolf committed, you’re punishing the wrong man.”